Book Review: Himself by Jess Kid

This novel starts with a murder.

An unnamed man pretty brutally murders a woman in the forest, then hides her body. When he goes back to finish off her baby, he searches everywhere, but the child is gone.

26 years later, Mahony strolls into a sleepy Irish village, ready to find some answers. He grew up in a Catholic orphanage and he's had a pretty rough life, but he's a tough guy, and he knows how to handle trouble. Also, he can see ghosts.

He has come because he received a photo from one of the nuns at the orphanage, a photo of himself as a baby in his young mother's arms. She is beaming and proud. On the back, there is a note: Mahony's actual name is Francis Sweeney, his mother was Orla Sweeney, and nobody in the town liked her.

Mahony wants to figure out why and also where she is, if she is still alive.

Some of the townspeople are shocked by him. (He looks like he doesn't wash his hair often, his bell bottom jeans are pretty tight in certain places, and he smiles too widely at the ladies...and there is something familiar about that smile and those eyes.) Some of them fall immediately in love. Some are ambivalent. And a few quietly loathe him.

The novel follows his quest for answers, in which he gets help from an aging stage actress, his hostess, a bartender, a recluse, and a whole lot of ghosts. And also some frogs. And a ghost-dog.

This book is just pure fun. It has a very Irish flavor, a good mystery with a surprising revelation at the end, fantastic character development, and a lot of out-loud laughs. And it also has a balance of poignancy--and darkness. Read it. You won't be disappointed.

Book Review: Watership Down by Richard Adams

I remember watching this movie as a child after my mom had finished reading the book. She loved it and did her best to encourage us to read it. I can't speak for my siblings, but even though I enjoyed the movie, I just wasn't very interested in the book. A bunch of rabbits hopping around, eating clover and occasionally having great adventures or fighting epic battles. Nah.
Since then, I have recommended it occasionally to a student who loves animals, and a few of them have read and enjoyed it, but it was only a few weeks ago, when I was reaching for suggestions for Jared, who had just finished--and greatly enjoyed--Life of Pi that I remembered this book. I described the premise and he seemed interested, so I ordered a copy.
Of course when it arrived, he took one look at the cover and shook his head. He had already decided in the time the book took to be shipped that he was more interested in reading Jurassic Park or The Lost World instead, so I decided to read it myself.
And I am so glad I did.
And here is my review: (Warning. I will cover a fair number of primary plot points.)

Hazel and Fiver, brothers, lead a group of about ten rabbits away from their home warren because Fiver--who has visions and intuitions that are usually prophetic--has foreseen doom for their home. They warn the chief rabbit, but he dismisses them and tries to arrest them.
The band of runaways has many adventures before establishing a new warren on Watership Down, the safe place Fiver foresaw.
The dig burrows, befriend a mouse and a gull, and then realize that without does, their warren will soon be empty.
The find some--and liberate them--from a nearby farm, but Kehaar, their gull friend, has also brought news of a huge warren some distance away. Hazel sends three rabbits to investigate, and they return days later with shocking news.
Efrafa, the huge warren, is overcrowded and could certainly part with some does, but it is controlled by General Woundwort, a megalomaniac dictator, who will not tolerate the removal of any rabbits--and the delegates themselves barely effect their escape.
Hazel, though, will not give up. The two does rescued from the farm are not enough. He leads a band of rabbits back to Efrafa, where with courage, luck, and cleverness, they do liberate about ten does and escape back to their warren.
But General Woundwort will not give up, and be brings a force to attack the warren on Watership Down. It is only with even MORE courage, luck, and cleverness that Hazel's band defeats Woundwort's. Hooray!

Okay, I've actually summarized the whole thing, so if you do decide to read it, maybe wait awhile and give yourself time to forget this summary. But you know, even if you have foreknowledge of the basic plot, you can still enjoy the book. Adams describes the English countryside (and every hill, river, farm, and copse he describes actually exists, or it did in 1972) with loving, attentive care. The land is lush with life, with rabbits (and all of the other creatures) going about their lives, hunting for food, looking for safety, struggling to survive. It is obvious that Adams did careful research about rabbit behavior. Even though they talk and have emotions, their actions (and even feelings) seem possible and even likely actions and emotions for rabbits to have. One of my favorite parts in the book was the parts where the rabbits spent time together telling stories, usually focusing on the antics of their hero, El-ahrairah, the wily rabbit king of old, who tricked even the shrewdest out of their lettuce (or other things).
It's a lovely book. I recommend it to anyone looking for a book dense with description, with some action and adventure, with interesting characters. I am going to push Jared harder to read it once he finishes his dinosaur kick.

Book Review: Three by Neil Gaiman

Sometimes, especially when I can't get to the library, I will dedicate myself to a reading run, reading multiple books by the same author. This time, I read three by Neil Gaiman: Neverwhere, Anansi Boys, and American Gods. American Gods is probably Gaiman's most widely-recognized book, but I think I like the others a bit better. American Gods can get pretty disgusting and graphic, and the others have less of that.
First, though, American Gods. In this book, Shadow, the main character is nearing the end of a prison term for assault and robbery. He can't wait to get home to his wife, who is equally eager to have him back home. His cellmate, Low Key Lyesmith (say it out loud; you should recognize his name), turned Shadow on to the writing of Herodotus, and he quotes the Roman now and then in the novel, especially this one: "Count no man happy until he is dead." Hmm.
A few days before his release date, Shadow receives awful news: His wife is dead, car accident, and they release him early to attend the funeral. Shocked, grieving, lost, he agrees to become bodyguard and driver to a mysterious man named Wednesday (do you know the origin of this day's name?), even though he has some reservations about him.
Events unfold. It turns out the old gods (those like Wednesday, Mr Nancy, Kali, and others) were brought to America in the minds and hearts of their worshipers centuries or millennia ago are now preparing for a war against the new American gods (you know, media, technology, credit cards, freeways, etc.).
Of course, there are plots and counter plots and unexpected twists and changes. Shadow meets all sorts of people who are and are not who they claim to be. He is accused of being slow by almost every god you meet, but he's the one who stays true and figures everything out by the end. Unfortunately, this is not a book for the faint of heart. (Honestly, I'm not even sure why I like it so much. It has a LOT of bad language, violence, and other just disgusting stuff. Some of the goddesses do some pretty disgusting things.) But it has a lot to say about loyalty and courage and why America is like it is. And it's just a great story.

Anansi Boys tells the story of Fat Charlie Nancy, who has tried to get as far as possible from his embarrassing father, even moving to England to distance himself. His father, although Fat Charlie doesn't realize it for awhile, is actually Anansi, the trickster god. Fat Charlie receives word that his father has died, and when he goes back for the funeral, he learns that he actually has a brother, Spider.
Spider seems like Fat Charlie's opposite: cool, composed, careless, a heart breaker and a rule breaker. Spider messes up Fat Charlie's life. But then, the brothers learn some things about themselves and their family.
This book has lots of interesting details about the pantheon of animal gods, some good plain evil acts by the bad guys, humor, witchcraft, ghosts, lots of fun.

Neverwhere starts with a pretty boring young man who bumbles along after his high-powered girlfriend on their way to dinner with her important boss when a dirty girl stumbles through a wall (or a door, he isn't sure which) that wasn't there before and collapses at their feet. Richard stops to help her but Jessica urges him to keep walking, saying someone else will help. Richard ignores her, scooping up the unconscious girl, and takes her home to tend her wounds. Well, it turns out the girl is from London Below, a world of magic, of darkness, of strange stories, and some very vile men are after her. Her name is Door, and she can find and open any door. That's her power. Richard ends up helping her, getting stuck in London Below, where his life is in danger almost all the time.
I would say this book is the most fun of the three, as it is interesting to consider the ways London Below layers upon and overlaps "the real world." The bad guys, though, are really, really disgusting.

Book Review: The Golden Spruce: A True Story of Myth, Madness and Greed

The Golden Spruce by John Vaillant (Note: I'm in the throes of distance learning and lesson planning, so please forgive the poorly staged photo.)

In the winter of 1997, logger and wilderness lover Grant Hadwin cut down a one-of-a-kind golden Sitka Spruce on one of the Queen Charlotte islands off the coast of British Columbia. The tree was hundreds of years old, beloved to residents, a draw for tourists, and sacred to the Haida, natives of the islands.
Just before his trial, Hadwin set off alone in a kayak and was never seen again. In this book, the author sets out to explore why Hadwin cut down the tree and what might have happened to him, while also delving into the natural history of the islands and the Pacific Northwest, the history of logging and the devastating environmental impact of wide-scale industrial logging of old growth forests, the sheer courage (and probable borderline insanity, in my thinking) it must have required to be a logger (especially when their only tools were saws and axes), the history of the Haida and other native peoples, dendrology, and so many other fascinating discursions. I learned a lot and was reminded of other factoids I had previously read about in other books.
One good point Vaillant makes is how easy it is for us to romanticize forests from the comfort of our armchairs, thinking of the peace and beauty in their green depths, while actually a forest can be a brutal place where almost every single organism is engaged in a life-or-death struggle every single day, clawing (or branching) its way toward sunlight or rest or the next meal.
My only complaint about this book is that sometimes Vaillant's discursions--while informative--distracted from the overall point of the book: Grant Hadwin's act of shocking destruction and his flight. Also, I was sometimes overwhelmed by the vast cast of characters discussed, ranging from tribal leaders to loggers to scientists to explorers. The list grew so long that I lost my way among the branching stories at times, as one person or another was explained and then brought back into the narrative many pages later by name only without a reminder of his or her place in the broader shape of the book.
Still, those are minor complaints. The book was interesting and compelling, and now, especially after reading Emily St John Mandel's novels, my desire to travel to British Columbia is only strengthened.

Book Review: The Glass Hotel

The Glass Hotel by Emily St John Mandel

Like Station Eleven, this book drifts and settles on characters and across years (and places), building and rebuilding a narrative.
At its heart, I think it dwells on this question: How readily will a person cross the line of morality to save himself? Is that line the same for each of us, or does it shift? What burden do we bear for others in making those choices, and how likely then is it that the ghosts of our poor choices will haunt us?
At the center of the characters are a brother and sister, Paul and Vincent, who share a father but have different mothers. They are five years apart and emotionally distant, practically strangers. Paul has grown up with his mother, visiting his father only once a year or so where he lives with Vincent and her mother on a remote island in British Columbia.
As the (primary setting of) the story begins, Vincent's mother has disappeared from her canoe, presumably drowned. This uncertain disappearance casts an early spell. Much of the rest of the book is misted in a similar uncertainty, as both Vincent and Paul make desperate choices to survive--each finding a type of security and even success--but at cost.
Vincent enters a relationship with the ridiculously wealthy Jonathan Alkaitis, who is old enough to be her father. His wealth buys her serenity--of sorts--and she blinds herself to her whispering doubts about the source of his success until it is revealed that he has swindled all of his investors in a decades-long Ponzi scheme. This scheme, when it is uncovered, causes repercussions that stretch long filaments out to touch most of the other characters.
Like Station Eleven, the book caught and held my attention immediately and consistently. The writing is tense and spare, lovely and evocative. The characters are multi-faceted and unpredictable in the best of ways. The movement of the narrative arc between times and places and characters is a little disorienting at first, though. (Confession: I had to sketch out a timeline about forty pages in to keep things straight, but then I found my bearings.)
I guess my only complaint is that much of the narrative centers on Alkaitis, who seems pretty despicable to me. (Actually, now that I think of it, in Station Eleven, much of the narrative focuses on Arthur Leander, whom I also rather dislike.) (Hmm. Why, Emily?) I wanted to read more about Vincent, who was my favorite character. But still, a finely plotted book with lovely characters and themes I will ponder for many days to come. Also: British Columbia (where Vincent grew up and where the Glass Hotel is). I think I need to go there.

Book Review: The Rise and Fall of the Dinosaurs

First, before I get into the review, I think it's fair to admit that I have been intrigued by dinosaurs for a long, long time. I remember opening our well-thumbed family atlas to pore over the two-page spread depicting dinosaurs going about their prehistoric business. We watched our VHS tape of The Land Before Time so many times the audio was a little scratchy. 

When I had children of my own, I bought them books about dinosaurs and we read them together. Their obsession surpassed mine, so much so that one of the boys (hopefully respectfully) corrected his kindergarten teacher on her pronunciation of Diplodocus. So, it's not surprising that I would eagerly read this book about dinosaurs.  

The Rise and Fall of the Dinosaurs by Steve Brusatte

I first heard about this book when we were in Marquette, MI, and the boys kindly let me browse to my heart's content (okay, even allowing me two visits in one day) at a lovely bookstore called Snowbound Books. There I saw this book in a window display in hardcover, and the bookseller told me she couldn't keep enough copies in stock. They sold like crazy because the book was so interesting, so highly readable. A few weeks ago, before everything shut down so resoundingly in the wake of the coronavirus, I found it again (in paperback this time) at one of my favorite bookstores in Ann Arbor, Nicola's Books.This one had a staff pick shelf tag that read something like: This book makes dinosaurs sound so, so cool. As if they weren't cool enough already.
How could I walk past it without picking up a copy? I was not disappointed. Here is my review, but first a warning: Do not put this book into the hands of a young (or impressionable) dinosaur lover unless you are prepared for him (or her) to abandon a more staid career path (like finance or law or teaching) to become an archaeologist. This book is very, very likely to have such a transformative effect.
Archaeologist and professor Steve Brusatte freely admits that he was very obsessed in his youth. He collected fossils, contacted eminent archaeologists, collected articles about their finds, attended conferences in the hope of meeting them. And he did meet them. And now he's one of them.
He writes in a very exuberant, easy to read style about the various prehistoric eras (the Permian, Triassic, Jurassic, and Cretaceous) and what lived and thrived in each.
He brings these long-dead times to vivid life, describing creatures such as an enormous carnivorous salamander whose massive jaws snapped shut on its prey "like the lid of a toilet seat," or the towering waves of lava like a "tsunami from hell" that marked the end of the Triassic.
He describes fossil hunters past and present, the excitement of discovery, methods of mapping dinosaur family trees and dating fossils. He even explains the purpose of a T.Rex's tiny arms: They were "accessories to murder," enabling it to hold down its still-moving prey while it got busy chewing on it.
The book is just simply delightful and exciting, making the career of paleontologist even more interesting than I had already thought it to be. You will probably want to buy and read this one. Trust me.