Sandworms of Dune by Brian Herbert and Kevin J. Anderson, June 9th. Part of an extensive series of prequels and sequels penned by Frank Herbert's son as follow-ups to Frank's classic Dune series. Dune is one of my favorite book of all time. These books are not as good as Dune, although I think Brian Herbert and Anderson would be the first to tell you that. They are interesting additions, however, and worth reading if you are a die-hard Dune fan, as they are based on Frank Herbert's notes, following his own plans for the series.
The Golden Compass, June 22nd, The Subtle Knife, June 30th, and The Amber Spyglass, July 9th, all by Philip Pullman. One of my favorite fantasy series, right up there with The Lord of the Rings and Dune. There are not words to express. I first read the series in late 2008, and this was my second time reading it. I think it may become one of my annual rereads.
White Oleander by Janet Fitch, July 14th. Another book that I have continued to come back to. I think this was the third time I had read it. I was first drawn to the story of a young girl struggling in foster care, surviving very traumatic situations to become a relatively well-adjusted young woman. Later I was more attracted to the story of an artist trying to find her point of view and style, especially in the shadow of her mother's not inconsiderable talent. A very haunting and uplifting book.
Paul of Dune by Brian Herbert and Kevin J. Anderson, July 17th. See above.
Atonement by Ian McEwan, July 24th. Was v. delighted with this book. I loved the structure of the events, Briony in old age, looking back on a day when she was 13, when she changed the course of her life, her sister's and Robbie's with one act. Then we move to World War II, following Robbie as he tries to survive and return to Cecilia. And in the third part of the book, the events after the war, and the riddle as to their true meaning. The first part is the best, a sleepy day unravels, filled with common-place events. Cecilia chips a vase, struggles to understand her feelings, her mother fights a migraine headache, Robbie writes a letter. McEwan's descriptions are full of detail and life and meaning. A wonderful book.
My Name Is Red by Orhan Pamuk, Aug. 28th. Pamuk is an incredible writer, my one lament about his books being how long it takes me to read them. It is not that they are dull, but that they are dense. These are not "easy reads". Every word has intricate, intense meaning, and, for me at least, it takes twice as long to get through each page. When I did manage to reach the end, I was glad I had put forth the effort. It may be a while, however, before I have the stamina to try another.
One of the most confusing aspects of this book was the changes in narration. Pamuk has the singular and enviable audacity to throw the reader headlong into a book that changes narrators every chapter, without ever acquainting the reader with this fact, or trying to make the reader comfortable. This was one initial difficulty I had to overcome. This quote is from a chapter narrated by a drawing of a tree, an apparent proponent of the artistic style that does not show drawings of trees as individual trees, each different from the next, but rather as a type, a cookie-cutter likeness.
"I thank Allah that I, the humble tree before you, have not been drawn with such intent. And not because I fear that if I'd been thus depicted all the dogs in Istanbul would assume I was a real tree and piss on me: I don't want to be a tree, I want to be it's meaning." p. 51
The Namesake by Jhumpa Lahiri, Aug. 31st. Lahiri is a v. talented writer, but I think I prefer her stories, having also read Interpreter of Maladies and Unaccustomed Earth. There were parts of this book I very much liked. I think Lahiri is especially adept at creating moments, vivid moments that reflect whole generations and relationships. This is what I love about her stories. This gift is evident in The Namesake but short stories are perhaps a better vehicle for her talent.
"'Try to remember it always,' he said once Gogol had reached him, leading him slowly back across the breakwater, to where his mother and Sonia stood waiting. 'Remember that you and I made this journey, that we went to a place where there was nowhere left to go."
Beloved by Toni Morrison, Sept. 9th. Morrison is one of my favorite authors. We read Song of Solomon in high school, which I have reread many times. I am kind of surprised that it took me so long to read this, as it is one of her most acclaimed works. Beloved was exquisite, haunting, at times confusing. I have always loved how Morrison incorporates the spiritual and the magical into her stories in a way that makes you question what is real.
Her Husband: Hughes and Plath- a marriage by Diane Middlebrook, Sept. 13th. A very interesting book, in that it puts as much emphasis on Hughes as it does Plath, someone who is very often overlooked. Middlebrook does an excellent job of presenting Hughes's side of the marriage, and gives a very in-depth analysis of their creative relationship, as well as the more mundane facts of biography.
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