Reading, reading, and more reading while I recuperate
I met Karen Joy Fowler at the Festival of Books, and I was impressed with her erudition and the way she talked about writing. Of course, I immediately bought her The Jane Austen Book Club and her newer work Wit's End. I've been reading the first since then, along with another book my mom bought for me, Maisie Dobbs, written by Jacqueline Winspear.
While Fowler's language is beautifully wrought, I'm not liking Book Club. Until this morning I couldn't figure out why.
I finished Maisie Dobbs last night, then I dreamt about it, and that doesn't happen very often. It was my reaction to what is ostensibly a detective novel, but is a tragic historical romance wrapped up in gentle social commentary, that clued me into what's missing (for me, at least) in Book Club.
There is no heart to Fowler's work. It's clever, literate, and filled with distinctive characters, and yet, I don't particularly like any of them. I don't want to know more about them either. I find that I can put the book down very easily -- and I've been known to read through the night for books which grab my interest -- without any desire to pick it up again.
Winspear is equally literate and a deft hand with a turn of phrase (although on more than one occasion I mentally altered her sentences). Her story is similarly structured (present day/backstory/present day)to Fowler's, but the internal tone and characters are far more sympathetic. I felt for these people. All of them, even the psychotic villain.
When I read a book, I don't really want to be dazzled by the mechanics of it. I want the story and the characters to so grab me that I'm transported into the pages as I become part of the story. I can admire a cleverly developed piece of work, but it isn't one I'll read again, nor will the characters stay with me. Harper Lee, for all that she was a one-hit wonder, wrote an indelible character in Scout, and though I haven't re-read To Kill a Mockingbird in many years, I remember her blossoming comprehension with great poignancy.
I'll finish Book Club, but I don't know whether I'll open Wit's End (Selkie, it might just be in that care package I send to you next week.)
I will, instead, definitely look for Winspear's second book.
While Fowler's language is beautifully wrought, I'm not liking Book Club. Until this morning I couldn't figure out why.
I finished Maisie Dobbs last night, then I dreamt about it, and that doesn't happen very often. It was my reaction to what is ostensibly a detective novel, but is a tragic historical romance wrapped up in gentle social commentary, that clued me into what's missing (for me, at least) in Book Club.
There is no heart to Fowler's work. It's clever, literate, and filled with distinctive characters, and yet, I don't particularly like any of them. I don't want to know more about them either. I find that I can put the book down very easily -- and I've been known to read through the night for books which grab my interest -- without any desire to pick it up again.
Winspear is equally literate and a deft hand with a turn of phrase (although on more than one occasion I mentally altered her sentences). Her story is similarly structured (present day/backstory/present day)to Fowler's, but the internal tone and characters are far more sympathetic. I felt for these people. All of them, even the psychotic villain.
When I read a book, I don't really want to be dazzled by the mechanics of it. I want the story and the characters to so grab me that I'm transported into the pages as I become part of the story. I can admire a cleverly developed piece of work, but it isn't one I'll read again, nor will the characters stay with me. Harper Lee, for all that she was a one-hit wonder, wrote an indelible character in Scout, and though I haven't re-read To Kill a Mockingbird in many years, I remember her blossoming comprehension with great poignancy.
I'll finish Book Club, but I don't know whether I'll open Wit's End (Selkie, it might just be in that care package I send to you next week.)
I will, instead, definitely look for Winspear's second book.