Hairy Maclary from Donaldson’s Dairy is a classic Kiwi children’s book (I’m in New Zealand for a couple of years) and my writing professor read it to the class as an example of great children’s writing.
It’s a really fun, really cute book! I’m going to go ahead and spoil the entire book, my apologies! It tells the story of Hairy Maclary, who walks through town and meets all of his friends, then runs into a mean tomcat and runs back home. The rhyming scheme is excellent – on par with Dr Seuss but without any made-up words. The pictures are fantastic and I loved the descriptions of the dogs Hairy meets on his walk – I think my favorite was “Muffin McLay like a bundle of hay”- Muffin is a big fluffy Old English Sheepdog.
It’s the type of book that is best read out loud, and I can just hear a little kid piping in at the parts they love best, enthusiastically filling in the end of a rhyming couplet. It also lends itself to lots of different voices – one for each dog described, and a very scary one for the Scarface Tom, the meanest tom in town. I bought a copy for my best friend, who has an almost-two-year old and an almost-born baby. (Her mom’s a children’s librarian so there’s some stiff competition in the books department. I’m relatively sure they won’t have this one, though!)
If this book has one tiny little fault, I would say the conflict isn’t very exciting; they see the big tomcat and just run away in fright and that’s the climax of the story. However, it certainly doesn’t diminish from the joy of reading this book out load.
Anyways, this is an adorable kids’ book, perfect for the 4 and under crowd in your life. If you find a copy and you have some kids who love being read to (or you’re just a big fan of picture books yourself!) I definitely recommend getting a copy!
So I walked into a bookstore looking for a pen and walked out with 2 books, one of them being Emperor of the Eight Islands. The blurb on the back really intrigued me – it sounded liked a darker sort of fairy tale, but set in a fantasy land based on feudal Japan.
The blurb on this one is a pretty accurate representation of the book! I really enjoyed the book – I’ve mentioned this a few dozen times before, I’m sure, but I love fairy tales of all sorts. I liked especially that it was set in a Japanese-based society; I feel like that drew me in more than it would have if it was set in a European-based one, simply for the novelty and the fun of the world building.
The story follows Kazumaru, the son of a lord who dies having lost a game of Go to tengu (legendary Japanese bird-men.) Kazumaru’s uncle takes over the estates and, in the traditions of fairy tales everywhere, does not want to relinquish his title back to his nephew when Kazumaru comes of age. The story truly begins when Kazumaru decides to run away and find his own fate in the world, a world being torn apart by a civil war and plots for the throne.
Told in third person, the story shifts frequently from Kazumaru’s point of view to many other characters, though Kazumaru’s actions remain the driving force for the plot. There’s sorcerers, royalty, mystical beings, magic, grudges, love, destiny, and songs about dragon children. Essentially, all the components for a good fairy tale are incorporated.
Hearn’s writing also lends itself well to the style. It actually reminds me a little bit of Robin McKinley – the same sort of slightly distant, almost impersonal approach to the characters, even as the reader learns their thoughts and feelings. In an extended fairy tale, where the plot is of utmost importance, this style can work incredibly well and indeed I very much appreciated Hearn’s approach. All of the human characters were complex and well developed and the non-human ones felt non-human because they were less complex.
Though terrible things happen in the story, I wasn’t necessarily emotionally invested in the actions. This isn’t a bad thing – I like how it gave me clarity and room to think about what was happening. It also meant I was less likely to rationalize away a character’s behavior, which, I think, is important to this particular story. The characters, Kazumaru included, often do both amazing and horrible things and this distance allowed me to step away from the good vs. evil dichotomy and not categorize the characters but instead evaluate each action on its own merit. Though there is a sense of a divine hand in this story, and from that a clear wrong and right, there isn’t such a sense of moral right and wrong and I loved the way the story made me think about each action to see how I truly felt about it.
I don’t know why, but I was somewhat disappointed to find that this was the beginning of a short series. Though it does work as a self-contained story, there’s clearly room for the next novel – however, I felt throughout that this was a standalone and I have no idea why! I will be reading the rest of the series though.
Also, this is a book where the first chapter is very indicative of the entirety of the story, so if you’re on the fence, you should be able to tell by just reading a few pages whether it’s the book for you.
If you like plot-driven fantasies and a strong fairy tale vibe, you should definitely give this book a read. If you’re not into violence or if you want a strong, intimate emotional connection to the main characters, then, alas, this book may not be the one for you.
Have you read it? Let me know what you think in the comments!
I know I’m late to the game on this one! As a result, I might be a little more lax about hints than I normally am (though I promise not to reveal any major plot points!)
His Dark Materials, if you haven’t heard of it, is Pullman’s most famous work, a trilogy focused on the coming-of-age story of Lyra and Will, two children from very similar and vastly different worlds. And I mean worlds literally! Lyra is from an alternative-world Oxford, where every person has a daemon, an animal companion that is part of them, yet separate. It’s heavily implied to be a physical embodiment of something, though it’s the readers job to figure out what that is.
One of the reasons it took me so long to finish these novels was that I do not like it when you switch worlds in a book. Maybe I’m inherently lazy but for some reason, I find the work of having to pull myself out of one fantasy world and force myself to learn another in the same book/series to be rather unpleasant.*
So I read The Golden Compass (a/k/a Northern Lights) way back when as a teenager, but the series of events at the end of TGC/beginning of The Subtle Knife made me put the books down. I’ve been meaning to try and finish the series for ages and with all the buzz about Pullman’s new novel, I finally managed to do it.
The central conflict of the book is humans vs. the Authority, the Authority being God (the Christian God) or something very like it. Lyra and Will unintentionally find themselves in the middle of a battle to determine the fate of the world – of their worlds. They go on a epic adventure, discovering new worlds, fighting battles, making friends, and ultimately must make a decision that could change the universe forever.
This book is aimed at, oh, probably pre-teens and I think Pullman excels at writing for the audience. His children are believable and honest; they say important things in a way that is realistic and grave but never precocious or weirdly mature. I really enjoyed his dialogue, especially in Lyra, who had a lot of grave epiphanies; they always rang true without becoming soppy. The trilogy is told in third person limited, switching to various characters’ perspectives as needed but the narrator’s voice is always imbued with a child-like tone which helps add to Lyra and Will’s characterization. This does mean the adult characters are simplified and not partly multi-dimensional but that works with with the inherent voice of the novels.
Pullman’s plot line and characters are both exceptional and his world-building is creative and fantastic. There are some truly inventive places that come out in the second and third novels and he manages to connect the different worlds so that no one of them feels too disparate. The praise and fame this series has achieved is definitely warranted.
However, even Pullman’s work is not without its faults and one of the things I didn’t care for as much was how black and white the conflict ended up being. Perhaps this is just my reading of it, but I feel like a lot of the story line went: Will and/or Lyra is presented with a decision, they struggle with decision, they make decision, decision turns out to be the right decision. I like my characters to mess up and struggle with regrets and unintended consequences sometimes! That being said, the continuing escalation of conflict allows for a beautiful path to maturity and it was a really joy to watch Will and Lyra grow as characters. As a coming of age story, I really couldn’t have asked for more.
But – and this is the biggest reservation I have about this novel – Pullman, in three books about religion, never actually takes on the concept of faith. He plays a teeny tiny bit with it, with a character who is a former nun, and he touches on the concept of having faith in your friends, allies, and yourself, but, at least in my opinion, he never really takes on the concept of having faith in a power greater than yourself. While he tackles the concepts of souls, death, and the essence of life in way that is most satisfactorily thought-provoking, and he critiques the Catholic church in no subtle manner, I do think that by ignoring faith, whether by questioning its inherent moral value or using the lack of it as a critique itself, he has missed a fundamental truth of being a religious person. And as such, it’s hard for me to take this book from a fantasy book that plays with the ideas of religion/organized religion to a book that uses fantasy to address and critique fundamental issues within Christianity.
In short, if you’re into fantasy and you’re looking for something compelling, adventurous, and deep, I would absolutely recommend His Dark Materials. If you’re not into children’s perspectives or if you’re looking for something that gets at the fundamental nature of religion, than, alas, this is probably not the book for you.
Have you read His Dark Materials? What did you think? Leave a comment below!
*This is why I gave up on the Pern series, by Anne McCaffrey. One of her books has a really dramatic world switch and I got a paragraph into the switch, closed the book, returned it to the library, and never looked back.
Mambo in Chinatown is a book I picked up at the library when I was browsing after replacing my lost card. I do a bit of Latin dancing off and on (more off recently) so both the shoes and the name caught my attention. Then I read the blurb and it said it was about a first generation Chinese American woman who grew up in Chinatown, NYC, and ended up working for a ballroom dance studio. I knew I had to read it.
Charlie Wong, daughter of a Beijing Ballet prima ballerina, feels ungraceful and works as a dishwasher in a noodle shop where her father makes money. She spends her time supporting her family and trying to help her beautiful, intelligent younger sister, whom Charlie hopes to help to bigger and brighter things. One day, Charlie, who has always longed to feel beautiful, applies for a job as a receptionist as a ballroom dance studio and gets it. Working at the studio begins to slowly transform her life, but she worries about her sister, Lisa, who is struggling with an unknown illness that seems to worsen as Charlie’s life improves.
I greatly enjoyed this novel. It was definitely written for a Western audience and Kwok takes plenty of time to explain Chinese beliefs, attitudes, and traditions for a non-Chinese audience. She always manages to make it feel very natural to the story, partly because it’s written in first person, so it’s always presented as Charlie musing on what she’s looking at. It’s fairly obvious but never overdone and sprinkled evenly throughout the novel. I genuinely appreciated it – some things I knew and some things I didn’t, but overall the holistic integration of all the components Charlie talked about make me gain an appreciation for her worldview that I think can be challenging to convey in a novel. Kwok also does a good job of letting the bigger cultural notions speak through the actions of the characters – Charlie’s desire to show proper respect for her father is never dissected but is clearly and understandably demonstrated through her actions and concerns.
Charlie herself is a really wonderful character. She’s kind and tries her best, but struggles with finding herself and self-esteem issues, making her believably flawed but likable. Of course, part of her struggle is balancing the Chinese and American cultures she exists in, which Kwok does an excellent job with. I also appreciate that Kwok includes many other Chinese American women, all of whom are finding their own balance in Chinatown.
I loved her descriptions of dancing – she really manages to capture the essence of twirling across the dance floor. And the book definitely touched on magical realism as shows Lisa’s illness, with her father trusting traditional Chinese medicine and Charlie wanting to try Western. I will say, if Kwok writes a magical realism novel, I will definitely read it.
The biggest downside to this book is that the plot line is incredibly predictable. Now, in a book like this, which I’m reading for escapism and for enjoyment of the characters, that’s not a fatal flaw at all. But I was able to predict every plot twist and turn that happens straight from the beginning of the novel. The pacing is good and I really wanted to know what happened next, I just already knew what was going to happen next.
Overall, it was a lovely and introspective light read and if you’re looking for something uplifting, a little different, and kind, this is definitely the book for you. If you’re looking for an unexpected turn, or don’t want your escapism novels to deal with the big evils of the world (there’s one in here, though done well), then, sadly, this may not be the book for you.
After reading Wild, which I’ve yet to review (but it’s excellent, go read it) I’ve been looking forward to reading more of the hiker memoir subgenre. I was shopping for microspikes and ran across this book and had to buy it – barefoot hiking the Appalachian Trail? I don’t think I wore shoes in any sort of consistent manner until I was in college, so I was immediately hooked.
That being said, I have mixed feelings about this book. It’s by two sisters, Lucy/Isis and Susan/jackrabbit, who, as I said, decided to hike the Appalachian Trail barefoot after graduating college. Their biggest motivation, I think, was to take some time to figure out what to do with the rest of their life. The book flows a little too seamlessly between the two sisters’ point of view – their writing styles are so similar that I often lost track of who was narrating, even though each section had a header stating the name of the narrating sister.
There’s very little introspection in the book – perhaps the sisters didn’t have that much to figure out or perhaps they just didn’t feel like sharing. But either way, it’s not the close personal narrative that Wild was.
Neither is it a book that really connects you with nature. They seem to spend as much time off the trail as on, and though I know they narrated some of what they saw on the trail, none of it particularly impacted me. They do spend a lot of time on the various other hikers they met and interacted with, which I found very amusing and engrossing (with one major exception.) They also don’t spend much time speaking towards their hiking technique, gear, ect… – they talk about their wood-burning snow and brush on the difficulties/advantages of hiking barefoot but not in any technical depth.
I guess my big question after reading this novel was – what kind of book is it? It’s neither deeply personal, deeply connected to nature, or a hiker’s novel. It brushes against all three but doesn’t really settle on anything, which left me wanting more depth in one area or another. I loved all the narratives of the people they met on the trail – I think that was rather the best part – but given that many of these encounters took place in motels, hostels, and towns on the trail, it seems that the best part of the book isn’t actually about hiking.
That being said, the book itself was engrossing. I wanted to see what happened next, and I loved hearing about the difficulties and ease of life on the trail. I sped through the book – it’s an easy read, though long – and certainly, I think, it’s worth the time spent reading it if the subject catches your fancy. I would categorize this as a beach read book – light, fun, easy to get through and very enjoyable. Sometimes lack of depth – though unexpected here – is exactly what you’re looking for in a book.
The biggest caveat about the book is the winter portion, which focuses on their interaction with a family known as The Family from the North. This family has been evicted from their homestead in Maine due to tax evasion – the parents are fundamentalist Christians and don’t believe in the government – and are hiking the Appalachian Trail south for, I guess, lack of better options. (Ironically, the father of this family – while HIKING THE AT – says that he doesn’t pay taxes because he takes nothing from the government.)
While the family is certainly sweet and kind, they – along with the sisters – end up hiking through the worst winter in 19 years, starting in south Virginia and continuing on through the Smokies. I have spent some time winter hiking, and, while I love it, it’s not a sport I would include my two year old child in. Or, heck, even my twelve year old child, if it were an extended trek. Though the sisters highlight the many good characteristics of this family, it’s clear that all four of the children’s educations are being neglected for over a year. More concerning, the entire family nearly dies in a blizzard, multiple people sustain long-term frostnip-induced injuries, and the children are repeatedly placed in extraordinarily dangerous situations where they survive mainly by luck.
I certainly think that adults should do as they please, and the sisters wanted to brave winter hiking with little training and even less preparation. That’s fine. And the parents of the family can do the same. But risking the children’s lives, from hiking in dangerous weather to a lack of cash to purchase quality winter supplies to not having enough money to buy food (the parents were undernourished, especially the mother) is not something I can agree on, in the sense that there were other, much less dangerous options to deal with the problems presented by poverty. And while the book doesn’t hide the facts, the sisters definitely choose to emphasize the nature of the family over the reality of their decisions to a very extreme degree. Unlike Wild, which had frank acknowledgement that Cheryl Strayed did not do enough research and was not prepared and was incredibly lucky, I didn’t get the same sense from this book that the people involved regretted and acknowledged their lack of preparation.
So I can’t really recommend this book to non-hikers, because it’s a lot of escaping preventable situations only by luck and I’m not sure I would want anyone to model their behavior off this. And I can’t really recommend it to hikers, because I imagine it will make most experienced hikers’ heads’ explode. So what I will say is that it’s a decent story about the trials of hiking unprepared, and if you read it, you should do so realizing that one would actually need to be much more prepared to hike the AT (or the PCT or anywhere, really.)
This was the second book I picked up on my vacation. I was deliberating between a book set in India (that I decided to check out of the library) and a history of New Zealand (also library) when I saw Helen Simonson’s name. Simonson wrote Major Pettigrew’s Last Stand, which I absolutely loved, enough so that her name makes a book an automatic buy.
The Summer Before the War is set in the summer before the first world war. It revolves around Beatrice Nash, the first female Latin teacher ever hired by the town of Rye, near Sussex, England. Recently arrived back in England after the death of her father (they had been living as ex-pats), she’s determined to make it on her own as an independent, successful woman. She meets Hugh Grange, a surgeon-in-training whose Aunt Agatha was instrumental in Beatrice’s hiring, and in the idyllic countryside summer, begins a slow and wonderful romance.
I really enjoyed this book! I didn’t love it as much as I did MPLS, but I found the tone to be the same kind of inquisitive sweetness – not cloying, just pleasant without glossing over the awful parts of life. Most of the book is a romance set against a depiction of a small English village. There’s the small town politics; the beautiful summer days and strolls in the gardens; the festivals and fairs; and the small dramas of village life. There’s quirky characters and good food and an idyllic day or two to imagine yourself in.
There’s also the burgeoning feminist movement and a truthful examination of the difficulties of being a single woman in the early 20th century. There’s the Romani people, who come every summer and have for hundreds of years, yet face incredible prejudice. There’s two men who, at great cost, hide how they truly feel about each other and two women who quietly hide that their relationship is more than society would ever expect.
All in all, it’s a more complete picture than I would normally suspect. Somerset manages to create a sweet and peaceful village that has room for the daily sufferings and injustices often ignored in idyllic settings. The inclusion of such people adds to the magic, mostly, I think, because they feel real without adding a “dark, seedy underbelly” tone. (There is no dark seedy underbelly to Rye.) Instead, it’s a gentle acknowledgement of all that was happening in the village and makes me feel like I was truly seeing a slice of life, rather than the cherry-picked good parts. It made the escapism of the novel more complete to me and much more emotionally compelling.
Of course, after the summer, the war does break out (and the book does an excellent job of letting the reader feels it’s looming throughout.) Somerset actually follows the novel through the beginnings of war-time and this leads us to my main issue with the book. While the pacing in terms of action/not-action was fine, I wish Somerset had let the book play out over a longer period of time. Everything happens in a 6-month span and it just seems short for the final emotional growth and realizations of the characters. The last few chapters are jam-packed with important events and I wanted a bit more temporal space between them. I liked the plot line, I liked the characters’ responses, but for some reason, I just feel she needed to stretch out her timeline by at least another 6 months, if not a year.
I also feel like some of her main characters were a little too good; they needed just a tad bit more flaws for me to really invest in them. It was such a small imbalance that I didn’t even notice it until I was done with the book. But it there, just a little. Hugh, in particular, could have done with an unkind thought or two.
If you’re a fan of idyllic British country villages, or if you like small, sweet stories in the face of adversity, or if you’re interesting in a more inclusive historical fiction, this is definitely a book you should try. If you’re looking for a perfectly idyllic world with no real troubles at all, if you’re a big fan of flawed main characters, or if you don’t like big thematic shifts in books than this, unfortunately, is probably not the book for you.