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I excitedly took over the book to Martha New Year's Day. She had finished it the night before.

Every time I think I have a cool read for her, either she has read it or would bust a gut in order to NOT read it.

I Read "U is for Undertow" over the holidays. Overall I liked it. Where Martha HATES descriptions, I love them. Through these descriptive passages I am transported to imagining myself living in a pent house in NYC and eating in fine restaurants or picking up food at a bodega.

Martha didn't mention the two things that bothered me: (1) I think "U is for Undertow" was a lame title after I read the book. One minor character desides to exercise by swimming in the Pacific Ocean parallel to the seashore.

(2) The whole book is based on "repressed" memories. That's not giving anything away. We learn that a lot of "repressed" memories and "remembered" using suggestive methods; however, the author IMHO never explained a curious time line - that's all I'll say in case someone wants to read this book.

(3) Martha, do you remember when Kinsey used to trim her hair with fingernail clippers? That hasn't been mentioned in several letters of the alphabet. Maybe she's letting her hair grown long.

(4) I'd love to live in Santa Theresa but not Pico Mondo.

I'm reading Dean Koontz's "Odd Hours" right now. Has anyone read this series of books? I'd like some feedback. I can't tell if I like the theme or not. I do like the main character.

If I can fit it into my suitcase, I'm taking "South of Broad" to the left coast with me. I heard Pat Conroy on my favorite sports talk radio show. Pat Conroy's latest wife is a big Alabama fan. He said before he knew she was the one he was going to marry, she watched a football game with her. She said, "Look at that formation, there are going to blitz." He wondered how in the world she knew. His now wife replied, "You obviously didn't grow up as a little girl in the state of Alabama." (or something to that effect.)

Martha - I knew the phrase but not the origin so I checked Wiki:


Some Boston marriages were lesbian relationships, others were platonic.

Julia, thank you for looking this up. I had intended to do it myself. In my little Southern Baptist Church in Lexington, S.C., there were two women who lived together and attended church together.

I never questioned their relationship. Even in the 60s I didn't really care.

I only learned after I was re-united with some of my family that there had been snickers behind their backs.

Mellow,

Thanks. And now I'll have to reread the Bostonians. At least it's one of the three novels James wrote that I liked. In college I had to read them all.

Kathy,

U title idea. Actually the undertow and its effects were mentioned twice, and both times they seemed unnecessary to the plot. (In a Grafton novel, something unnecessary? How could it be?) But at both mentions I did start mulling possibilities behind the title and came up with one. Undertows sweep people away, frequently to "bad" endings. A lot of this book had to do with people believing or not believing the man with the childhood memories. Suppose the book had turned out that Kensey had believed him throughout, been swept up by his lies (a fom of undertow) and thus came to a "bad" end—at least in terms of her reputation or own self image. I doubt either Grafton or her editors would be bold enough to use such an "unhappy" ending, but the title sure would have worked. And that ending would work with the problem you saw.

Note to Martha: I'm reading Rushdie again. I've just finished the first chapter, and I thought of your earlier comments on him.

I can't explain why I react to Rushdie the way I do. His writing doesn't have that every-word-is-perfectly-placed feeling to it as some that I've recommended here have, that sort of painterly quality, if that's a word.

What it has instead is the ability to pull you in until you're smiling and don't know why, and then you realize - every word here IS perfectly placed, but his writing never draws attention to itself.

Also, I really dislike foreshadowing. "Had I known then, dear reader, what I know now, I wouldn't have needed to read the damn book in the first place." The beginning of this novel is nothing BUT foreshadowing. And I don't care. Fine with me.

You also talked about reading American writers; I always find myself stopping to think with Rushdie, because he writes without an accent. It's very easy to forget that he's "not from around here."

But this is what I really wanted to tell you, Martha. I picked a 600-page novel off the shelf and didn't bother to see what it was about before I checked it out. By page 10 I paused to imagine a room with a bed, a small refrigerator full of snacks and cold drinks, a french press, an electric tea kettle - and a great big lock on the door. That room, and a few pounds of Rushdie novel.

Hmmm. I think I just figured out how I want to spend the first week of my retirement, if it ever gets here!

Mellow,

Have a starting Rushdie novel to recommend?

Haroun and the Sea of Stories is a relatively small dose; part allegory, part fable. The amazon review includes the following quote, so I know it's short enough to share here:


Or, why not start with the best-known? I avoided the Satanic Verses for years but when I finally picked it up I kicked myself for waiting.

Although I believe a collection of short stories by Stephen King to be an oxymoron in and of itself, I did enjoy most of them found in Just After Sunset. I read it because of a common critical reaction which was: He's Stephen King. How dare he of the horror genre submit stories to magazines like The Paris Review or The New Yorker? I find them to be fightin' words 'cause I've always thought King was a good craftsman. (That's not in any way a slur. I put a lot of faith in craft.) So the gauntlet was thrown; I accepted the challenge.

As with any collection of short stories, some were good, and some weren't. I admit that my judgement is often based on my interest in the subject matter of the story, but since both concerns are valid, I'll talk about Just After Sunset through general comments rather than settling on specific stories. Even with that limitation, I seem to have dog-eared a lot of pages. We'll see how many dog-ears turn into comments.

1) The wife in a long-lasting marriage decides not to tell him something because "it would hurt his feelings, and she still doesn't like to hurt his feelings; this is what now passes for love between them—at least going from her direction to his." (page 87) The wife then expresses content with how things are, and I wonder how many individuals wind up with the same type of love after a long marriage. I suspect the number is large.

2) I complain about description in the works of many writers. Sue Grafton jumps to mind. And, yes, responding to a Kathy comment on a recent RoundTable, I may well be complaining about Pat Conroy's description—the first time I would do so—after I finish South of Broad. The above being the case, I'd like to point out some description I think is good. From Just After Sunset: "… once he'd been both amused and horrified to see an alligator lumbering across the deserted pavement toward the sugar pines beyond the rest area, looking somehow like an elderly, overweight businessman on his way to a meeting." (page 98) While as a writer, I might have wanted "alligator" placed closer to the phrase that modifies it, I still think the description is good. King never "tells" us the place is, say, dark and lonely. He describes an individualized alligator—in motion!—and let's the reader "see" the surroundings through a few well-chosen details. I like to fill in the rest with my imagination.

3) I've always liked Stephen King's humor. In "The Things They Left Behind" the narrator comes home to discover he has been mysteriously gifted with possessions owned by friends who died on 9/11. He struggles to figure out why they're there and says, "My sister Peg was currently living in Cleveland, where she had embraced Mary Kay cosmetics, the Indians, and fundamentalist Christianity, not necessarily in that order. If I called and told Peg about the things I'd found in my apartment, she would suggest I get down on my knees and ask Jesus to come into my life. Rightly or wrongly, I did not feel Jesus could help me with my current problem." (page 155) I find the thought and its expression right-on.

4) The same narrator expresses his mother's belief that "the cornerstone of the male philosophy was 'If you ignore it, maybe it'll go away.'" (page 162) My question is: Why limit such a belief to males?

5) Question for the up-on-current/recent-music folks: Is there really a group called Slobberbone, or did King make up the name?

6) In another story King describes a spot where it's easy to see through reality to, well, something else. "There were seven stones again. Just seven. And in the middle of them—I don't know just how to describe this so you'll understand—there was a faded place. It wasn't like a shadow, exactly, but more like … you know how the blue will fade out of your favorite jeans over time? Especially at stress points like the knees? It was like that." (page 210) Cool idea—and description. IMHO.

7) Stonehenge? Perhaps its existence, "as well as keeping track of hours and months," is to protect us by "locking out an insane universe that happens to lie right next door to ours." (page 215) Ah, an explanation I can get into.

8) The ring of stones: "It only exists in his (the narrator's doctor's) mind, but that doesn't mean it's not real." (page 220) And, after all, what is reality anyway?

9) Finally, to anyone who was around during my reading, reviewing, re-reading and re-reviewing of "The Yellow Wallpaper," I think the following statement King makes in his notes is interesting. "Can you think of a single successful scary tale that doesn't contain the idea of going back to what we hate or loathe? The best overt example of that might be "The Yellow Wallpaper" by Charlotte Perkins Gilman. If you ever read it in college, you were probably taught that it's a feminist story. That is true, but it's also the story of a mind crumbling under the weight of its own obsessive thought." (page 365)

Just checking in. I finished John LeCarre's A Most Wanted Man and have started The Story of Edgar Sawtell. Trying to get through these before the semester's work starts in earnest. I also have waiting for the next break The Big Burn by Timothy Egan and Stones into Schools by Greg Mortenson - Christmas presents.

EmmaG