Review of Siege and Storm by Leigh Bardugo

Siege and Storm continues Alina and Mal’s journey away from the Darkling and towards the gathering of more amplifier(s).  The Darkling has lost his magical hold over Alina – or has he?  Siege and Storm is less action and more thoughtful analysis as Alina struggles to adapt to her new role as Saint Alina, propelled to saint-like status by the Apparat.

Alina is by turns strong and reliant on others; the dichotomy becomes critically frustrating throughout the novel.  However, overall Alina does triumph as a well-rounded, humanistic character with foibles like us all.  What really marred the book for me was the trite and over-emphasized love story (push-and-pull) between Mal and Alina; it detracted, at times, from the overarching themes.

Review of Burial Rites by Hannah Kent

Published by Little, Brown and Company, 2013

Burial Rites tells the haunting story of accused murdered, Agnes, in early 19^th century Iceland.  The Icelandic justice system is still trying to find its footing and doesn’t truly have prison systems like larger countries, so Agnes is sent to live with a family (Margret, her daughters, and their father).  Naturally, the family is outraged, terrified, and apprehensive about having a murderess live with them until she is executed.

As time wears on, layers of Agnes’s story are unraveled piece by piece, both to the reader and to the family, as Agnes “confesses” to a young priest nicknamed Toti.  As with many great novels, despite the overwhelming factual evidence, one cannot help but consider the emotional weight inherent in Agnes’s story.  She is not a hero, not an anti-hero—Agnes is a prime example of a wronged woman, in many ways, who made choices in life that may not have been the best.  Even so, Kent seems to say, does she deserve the finality of an execution?

Some readers have been confused with the shifting points-of-view, but it is not difficult to discern between them.  The ending does seem a bit too rushed, but perhaps that is because the event itself is rushed and the narrative reflects that.  Kent’s language is gorgeous; she treats Iceland itself as almost another character, breathing and shifting with each day. 

I could not wait until the end of the day when I could read this book; that hasn’t happened in quite some time.  It also made me very curious about Iceland itself.

"[T]his grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore..." - Bellman & Black

Bellman & Black

by Diane Setterfield

Bellman & Black explores “The Butterfly Effect” on a gothic, morbid scale; Will Bellman’s seemingly unintentional act of animal cruelty as a young boy has lasting and spreading effects as he continues to age.  Throughout the novel, the “rook” (a crow, essentially) is cast as the harbinger of death, interspersed by factual tidbits about the rook’s eating habits, scientific names, and so on.  The juxtaposition of the rook as a death symbol with these reminders of the unavoidability and impersonality of nature serve to remind us that death does become us all.  So why was Will Bellman targeted?

Will takes over a family business and his life becomes consumed with entrepreneurship; the book does become immersed in the details of his businesses, which I personally found engrossing.  However, for each bit of happiness Will experiences, the rook flits through the pages, bringing another round of death and sadness for Will.  Instead of properly dealing with his losses, they propel Will to work harder, shunning any kind of pleasure for the sole purpose of work.  At each funeral Will attends, he meets a man simply named Black.  They go into business together; the terms are vague.  The business consumes Will and he becomes determined to “pay back” Black his portion of the profits.  The ending, while not necessarily a surprise, is still a bit of a letdown—while Will is not a warm and fuzzy character, he is not a moral reprobate.

Which brings us to the crux of the problem with Bellman & Black – why did the simple act at the beginning of the novel, something that, truly, was not fully intended in a malicious manner on Will’s part, bring about such devastation in the end?  Will killed a rook—so everyone he loves dies.  I feel that Setterfield wants us to dig deeper into the allegory of the novel; one small act can wreak larger havoc, yes, but if a person does not boldly face a problem or an issue, Setterfield seems to say, it all becomes exacerbated.  If only Will had taken small moments to enjoy his pleasures more (as evidenced at the very, very end of the novel, when he went through just the very few happy memories he had).  If only Will had been, yes, a bit more selfish and lived his life more for himself instead of being regulated by the external world.

All in all, this novel is more profound than what it seems. I also found the minutiae of running a mill and starting a goods business quite fascinating; it fed into the larger theme of small gears making everything else tick (or break, as it were).

Review of A Curious Man: The Strange & Brilliant Life of Robert Believe It or Not! Ripley

Published by Random House, 2013 

Thompson’s biographical novel successfully unravels the mystique surrounding a man the world mainly sees as offering up only a buffet of oddities. Yes, the author’s style is straight-forward and unadorned, so those who lean more towards fan of history are more apt to enjoy the authorial flair (or lack thereof). Thompson goes in mainly chronological order from LeRoy’s young life, interspersing “Believe It!” factoids throughout the chapters in a celebratory nod to the “strange and brilliant” Ripley.

Some may question Thompson’s method of delving into the less savory aspects of Ripley’s life, such as his hasty and ill-advised first marriage, his regular romantic dalliances, and his rather rampant alcoholism. These foibles (or major flaws, as the crow flies) are what make Ripley ours, part of our American seam, instead of an unreachable cartoonist (the most popular man in America at one time) to whom no one can relate.

All in all, A Curious Man is worthy of reading to find out the man behind the oddities that so fascinated and continue to fascinate our general public. A rather extensive index is included (brilliant move on Thompson’s part).

Review of Cruising Altitude: Tales of Crashpads, Crew Drama, and Crazy Passengers at 35,000 Feet by Heather Poole

Published 2012 by HarperCollins

What an exercise of vapidity Cruising Altitude is; within the first few pages, I put the book down and refused to give it any more of my attention.  Then, I decided I wanted to review it online and determined to finish it; I promise you, I am that much more dumb for finishing this inane, poorly-written “memoir.”

Heather Poole does not suffer from anything remotely resembling a self-esteem problem; if anything, her narcissistic delusions seep across the narrative like an egregiously-placed fart in a crowded room by a pretty woman.  Poole cannot write, Poole cannot thread together any sort of story, Poole cannot do anything but condescend to the reader and preen about her own amazing awesomeness.

For instance, here is this gem on page 14: “Only the most qualified applicants are hired [to be a flight attendant].  Even though a college degree is not a requirement, there are very few flight attendants who do not possess one…This should tell you a lot about me, and anyone else you encounter in navy polyester.  Think about that the next time you’re on a plane.”  And yet, mere pages later, she is touting that her “bachelor’s in psychology” will help her “way to a real career [in] something…oh, I don’t know…I could figure it out later!” (25).  As someone who has experienced the collegiate life myself, I know that a monkey could walk out of those walls with a B.S. in psychology.  Try harder to impress me, Poole.

When Poole attempts to get down to the actual grit of being a flight attendant, it is lost with her vapid complaints about packing, uniforms, other peoples’ looks, and the like.  When she first got her training assignment, instead of focusing on “[memorizing the] more than five hundred airport city codes before training began” (“Did the airline really expect [that]?”) she worried more about what to pack, and spent more time describing the contents of her suitcase (27-28).

And really, I can go on and on.  She’s an idiot who speaks disparagingly about passengers, about her friends, about the people her friends love (“Jake, John, Jack, whatever his name was”…ad nauseum).  Poole makes no attempt to flesh out what could be interesting anecdotes about the not-so-run-of-the-mill people she has met throughout her years, but instead she’s too busy preening for her own reflection. 

Review of The Wishing Thread by Lisa Van Allen

Published September 2013 by Ballantine Books

The concept of The Wishing Thread reminds me much of the old TV show with Alyssa Milano and those other ladies who did magic – Charmed.  Three sisters are raised in a house that is termed the Stitchery (an awkward mouthful) for the yarnful abundance it produces, along with spells woven into those yarns.  The sisters’ mother has run off early on and the sisters are raised by Mariah, an aunt who dies but whose legacy breaths throughout the book.

Perhaps the novel’s biggest failing is its one-dimensional, predictable characters.  Bitty is the older sister with the failing marriage who literally “runs” away from her problems; Meggie is the youngest sister, the wild-child, unpredictable one.  Aubrey is the grounded middle child, a library-worker who, we are reminded too often, is very shy, socially awkward, and guardian of the Stitchery.

If you can put that aside, then Wishing Thread is a good “beachy” read with a Halloween vibe.  The Wishing Thread’s greatest triumph is its setting—Van Allen does a remarkable job of bringing the Headless Horseman’s stomping ground to life, and it made me yearn for cool weather and fall leaves.

#wishingthread #vanallen #halloween #magic

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