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Wishful thinking. That's how I describe Alice Sebold's The Lovely Bones. Shoot. If heaven's like this book describes and if I get to come back and experience one thing I regretted not doing, sign me up. I'll leave on the first bus/train/whatever scheduled for tomorrow.

Beyond that: Only infrequently am I capable of pinpointing what makes a book a bestseller. For me, Lovely Bones was way too long and way too schmaltzy. But then, maybe length and schmaltz are musts for bestsellers. I will grant that first-person from a fourteen-year-old murder victim (Susie Salmon) is an interesting premise, and I did dog-ear pages. Let's see if I can remember why.

1) On heaven: "Our heaven had an ice cream shop where, when you asked for peppermint stick ice cream, no one ever said, 'It's seasonal'; it had a newspaper where our pictures appeared a lot and made us look important; it had real men in it and beautiful women too, because Holly (a heavenly friend) and I were devoted to fashion magazines." (page 21) Catchy details, but they're not setting the heaven bar real high.

2) Occasionally Ms Sebold comes up with what I'll call a "wow" sentence, one that express a thought (sometimes complicated, sometimes not) in amazingly simple yet appropriate terms. "I knew gloves meant you were an adult and mittens meant you weren't. (page 58) Cool. Or sweet.

3) In heaven Susie explains to Franny, a mother-substitute, why everyone is trying to protect Buckley, Susie's younger brother, from knowledge about her murder. "'Too young,' I said to Franny. 'Where to you think imaginary friends come from?' she said." (page 103) Interesting. As an only child, I had imaginary siblings. Guess they came from the same place.

4) "One of the blessings of my heaven is that I can go back to these moments .... I reach my hand across the Inbetween and take the hand ...." (page 170) I love the concepts of both individualized heavens and "the Inbetween."

5) On pages 222 and 223 there's a wonderful section where Susie is able to see what several important people in her life are doing, all at the same time. The passages work well and illustrate another aspect of the individualized heavens.

6) A friend of Susie's—while she was still alive—is Ruth, a woman who keeps secrets and, coincidentally, ends up in New York. "They were all things she would not give away in New York, where she watched others tell their drunken bar stories, prostituting their families and traumas for popularity and booze. These things, she felt, were not to be passed around like disingenuous party favors." (page 281) Shamefaced, I remember moments of my own youth and wish I had been as wise as Ruth.

7) Part of a conversation between Susie's mother and father near the end of the book:
Quote:
"So if I tell you Susie was in the room ten minutes ago, what would you say?"
"I'd say you were insane and probably right." (page 319)
Support that yes, one can be both--right and insane--at the same time.

So, after seven impressive moments, do I recommend the book or not? I'm not sure, but I'm leaning toward not. My friend Tessa says a growing sub-genre of romance is romance with a tinge of supernatural. (I guess the current vampire rage would be the extreme of the subdivision.) Whatever. I've now read—or tried to read—four books of this ilk. Truthfully, I'm not a fan.

I knew there was some nautical term that used dogs, but I couldn't think of it. Thanks.

Heaven to Betsy and Betsy In Spite of Herself by Maud Hart Lovelace are YA books, published in the 1930s and 1940s, about Betsy Ray, her family and friends growing up shortly after the turn of the 20th Century. They're part of a series, these two dealing specifically with Betsy's freshman and sophomore years in high school. If asked to describe both books in a single word, I'd go with: gentle. High school romances run through both books, but their style of romance is very much part of a bygone world. Betsy and her older sister, Julia, remind each other that they're not the type of girl who holds hands with a boy. Other issues often outweigh romance in importance. In Heaven to Betsy a struggle is over how to tell their parents they want to attend the Episcopal Church rather than the Baptist Church. Yep. Gentle. (Or gentile?)

A great many specifics jumped out at me. Some were general, but most dealt with language. That's not terribly surprising when both books, published in an earlier decade, deal with an even earlier one. It also makes for two versions of American English that are quite different from our own. So, we'll do two lists.

General stuff

1) Being good, christian young women neither Betsy nor her female friends would take the lord's name in vein. They frequently substitute "O di immorttales!" (page 92, among others places.) And that made me wonder if when Betsy dies, she'll wake up in hell and a group of winged people will fly above and say, "Hey! We count, too!" Just a thought.

2) When Julia starts talking about becoming an Episcopalian, "Betsy was genuinely shocked. It had not occurred to her that anyone could change one's church any more than one could change one's skin." (page 107) Interesting, I thought when I first read it. Quaint. Then: damned if I couldn't remember such arguments with some friends when we were kids. Wow. How old am I? Really.

3) "Since she (Betsy) had started going around with a Crowd, she always pretended radiantly to like whatever the others liked …." (page 215) Ah. Peer pressure even back then. What chance did a poor 'teen-age (see below) kid have?

4) "Sticks were sharpened, and weiner-wursts thrust upon them." (page 220) And I bet no one ever shook a finger at Ms Lovelace and said, "The passive voice shouldn't be used in fiction." Or did I dog-ear the page to point out that hotdogs must have once been weiner-wursts? Whatever.

5) "The important thing isn't what church you want to join but whether you want to join a church at all." (page 266) And the next page: "The most important part of religion isn't in a church. It's in your own heart. Religion is in your thoughts, and in the way you act from day to day, in the way you treat other people. It's honesty, and unselfishness, and kindness. Especially kindness." (page 267) If only all followers of all religions showed that they believed those things.

7) About Enrico Caruso: "He was an Italian, she discovered, stout and dark, with a tenor voice so divine that his stoutness and darkness didn't matter at all." (page 275) Ah, a world without the censors of all that might be deemed politically incorrect.. in that sentence darkness and stoutness might be seen as traits that needed forgiving. Years ago a play I wrote was presented as a staged reading in Houston. During the discussion afterwards it was noted that I had a character describe the library as presenting incorrect information, specifically stories that demeaned "ghosties and ghoulies" and other Halloween creatures. I was warned against doing so because "children with their puppy-like minds" might latch onto the idea of incorrect information and refuse to spend time in any library. I suppose the in the 1930s Ms Lovelace was never warned that young adults, "with their puppy-like minds" might think being stout and/or dark was a bad thing. Or maybe I'm just too sensitive, having been stung personally by the phrase "puppy-like minds".

8) Sometimes I find myself identifying with characters for the oddest reason. For the most part I found Betsy with her concern about the Crowd and fashion to be pretty dippy. At one point though Lovelace writes, ""She had a weakness for fresh new notebooks and finely sharpened pencils." (page 396) She caught me with that.

9) During football games: "It was the custom for spectators to watch the game from the sidelines, walking up and down the field to follow the play." (page 423) I remember reading about such a custom in some YA book I read in the 1950s and, until now, never ran into a reference to it again. Anyone else ever read about or experience that custom?

Language oddities

1) Lovelace is describing the Ray's new maid, an elderly woman whose "forehead was seamed." (page 60) Wrinkled, I guess. Or they've just hired Frankenstein's monster.

2) "… an habitual smile …" (page 73) I'm pretty sure that today the h-is-a-consonant-even-if-it's-first-sound-is-a-vowel argument has been won.

3) "It was amazing to Betsy that a 'teen-age girl …" (page 131) All right. The two words became one. That I get. But does anyone know what the ' might have stood for? The specific number, perhaps?

4) "Where do you keep your best dressing sacque?" (page 249) www.dictionary.com has "Sack: also, sacque. 1. a loose-fitting dress, as a gown with a Watteau back, esp. one fashionable in the late 17th century and much of the 18th century. 2. a loose-fitting coat, jacket, or cape." Aha! (An even bigger AHA, of course, if the Betsy books were set two centuries before they were.)

5) "She sang like a musical comedy soubrette …" (page 438) "Soubrette: 1. a maidservant or lady's maid in a play, opera, or the like, esp. one displaying coquetry, pertness, and a tendency to engage in intrigue. 2. an actress playing such a role. 3. any lively or pert young woman." Okay. I get it.

6) "The boys in Betsy's Crowd sat in the topmost gallery … the peanut gallery it was called …" (page 45) "Peanut gallery: 1. Informal . the rearmost and cheapest section of seats in the balcony or the uppermost balcony of a theater. 2. Slang . a source of insignificant criticism: No remarks from the peanut gallery!" Is that what was said on The Howdy Doody Show? I always thought it was peanut g-a-l-l-e-y.

7) "The Brandish mansion had a porte-cochere …" (page 610) "Porte-cochere: a covered carriage entrance leading into a courtyard. 2. a porch at the door of a building for sheltering persons entering and leaving carriages." Okay.

8) "They drove across the slough … (page 635) I've seen slough many times and assumed what it meant, but those days are gone. "Slough: 1. an area of soft, muddy ground; swamp or swamplike region. 2. a hole full of mire, as in a road. 3. Also, slew, slue. Northern U.S. and Canadian . a marshy or reedy pool, pond, inlet, backwater, or the like. 4. a condition of degradation, despair, or helplessness." I guess it's one of the first three, and my assumptions weren't all that great".

9) "'You look puny, lovey,' Anna said." (page 659) I always thought puny was weak and sickly, but that sentence is a compliment. Let's see. "Puny: 1. of less than normal size and strength; weak. 2. unimportant; insignificant; petty or minor: a puny excuse. 3. Obsolete . puisne. Damn! "Puisne: Law, younger; inferior in rank; junior, as in appointment." Double damn! Now I'm really confused. Anyone care to help me out?


A final plus (although I doubt many—if any—of you share my interest in YA literature) Each chapter is named and above the name is a lovely pen-and-ink drawing. I love pen-and-ink drawings.

PS Anyone know why they're called pen-and-ink? If that is what they're called. Peanut gallery/galley has lessened my confidence.

Well, the first 61 pages of (by William Kamkwamba and Bryan Mealer) weren't as bad as I thought they'd be. The book
is the story of an African boy growing up in an African village. Eventually, I assume, he does something with the wind.

The book was a 2009 Christmas present—that's how far behind I am on my unread shelf—and IMHO illustrates the problem of books as gifts. How can I assume what someone else may want to read? I much prefer what we do here. We talk about books; if something interests me, I'm free to chase it down. Or not.

Anyway, this particular book had some good things in those first 61 pages. Bottom line though is that it's simply not about anything that interests me. Still, I think I'll hang onto it and add it to my newest and growing category of unread books, those I hope to return to someday and finish.

I tried hard to like Deborah Laton, author of Seductive Poison: A Jonestown Survivor's Story of Life and Death in the Peoples Temple. Most of the time, by actively reminding myself that she was only a teenager when her involvement began, I was able to do so. At least sort of. Overall my reaction to Deborah Layton and her story was similar to how I felt about Carolyn Jessop and her escape from a Morman town that actively supported the lifestyle of one man, many wives. Granted, they both achieved amazing fetes, and Deborah Layton seemed a tad more aware of the problems left in her wake, but I would still be troubled about granting either the status of "hero.

Enough with comparisons. Onto the specifics about Seductive Poison.

1) In a forward Charles Kraus writes, "Even today, I suspect there are few Americans over the age of thirty-five who don't remember where they were when they first heard that more than nine hundred of their fellow countrymen had killed themselves, having drunk Flavour-aide laced with cyanide, in a place called Jonestown." (page xii) My reaction: "Oh, come on. Get over yourself." People remember what they were doing when JFK was shot. I remember where I was when I heard that Challenger exploded but probably because Huntsville is so much a part of the space program. But when I heard about Jonestown? Give me a break. It happened in the 1970s, so I was still teaching at A&M. And that's all I remember. If a student gave a speech on it, memories of even that speech are well buried in my subconscious. Now, as I write, I wonder how much the overblown sense of self-importance I inferred from that statement influenced my opinion of the book. So be warned: Keep my own prejudice in mind as you read the review. The statement, in a forward, not even in the book itself, kicked off my evaluation.

2) After Ms Layton's first exposure to Jim Jones and his teachings, she completes a year of school in England where she tells a friend "about having met the reincarnation of Jesus, who was now living in Ukiah (CA) as a revolutionary." (page 50) I sense not even a grain of doubt in Ms Layton's belief. Remember, Martha, she's a teenager. Grrr.

3) A good way into the book, Ms Layton wonders, "Could Father (Jim Jones) possibly say one thing and practice another?" (page 119) By this point Jones has already raped Ms Layton. And she still trusts him? Teenager, Martha. Grrrr.

4) Life in Jonestown: "I wondered what it was like to sleep in in the morning with no one there to 'write you up,' to eat whatever you'd like, to look in a refrigerator and make your own meals." (page 141) Sure makes me want to live there if you're only wondering about things like that.

5) Ms Layton is starting her first trip inland in Guyana to Jonestown: "For all but two of us, Mark and me, this ride would be our last before leaving this earth." (page 149) Pretty good keep-'em-reading technique, I'm forced to admit.

6) Ms Layton writes that "friendships and camaraderie that weren't strictly in the context of socialistic principles were frowned upon." (page 159) Oh, yes! Yet another selling point for Jim Jones' form of socialism. Actually here I'm reminded of the scene in Doctor Zhivago where Strelnikov tells Yuri Zhivago that in Russia the personal life is dead. And people wonder why communism and socialism don't work. Go figure.

7) Many radio transmissions contain segments similar to the following:
Quote:
Eight Arr One, do you read me?
This is Eight Arr One. (page 230)
What's "Arr"?

8) Ms Layton has Jim Jones say, "You cannot help the common man by becoming one with him …" (page 259) That from a man working to build a classless society. Bah! Humbug!

9) Ms Layton, having escaped, begins to work in the real world (albeit on "the trade floor of a small yet prestigious bank): "In this fraternity of 'evil capitalists,' I found understanding and compassion." (page 282) Again I'm reminded of Carolyn Jessop who in Escape was surprised when she found kindness is a non-Mormon hospital. Of course, I'm reminded also of Ms Jessop's hypocrisy (IMHO) when we have in Ms Layton a socialist ultimately becoming an investment banker. Sigh.

One final comment on Deborah Layton: She abandoned her cancer-stricken in Jonestown. Granted, she was pretty much forced to do. Also I'll grant that her remorse for doing so does seem genuine. And her mother did die from cancer a few days before the mass poisoning, which Layton's escape may have caused. But still …

Bottom line: Once I got past the first few chapters about Layton's family, I did find the book interesting.

Phillip Hoose's Claudette Colvin: Twice Toward Justice is possibly* the real story of how the Montgomery bus boycott started. (*I say possibly because having learned Rosa Parks was picked by the NAACO to spearhead the movement, my level of distrust is high. This book, though, does have the ring of truth.)

First, a bit of background I learned from the book: In 1955 fifteen-year-old Claudette Colvin left school and boarded a bus with several of her friends. Since the bus was empty, they paid their fare and walked down the center aisle to seats directly behind the "whies only" sign. (Interesting side note: If the bus had already contained white passengers, the teenagers would have had to pay their fare in the front of the bus, then exit and re-board through the rear door.) Gradually the bus filled up, and Claudette was told to give up her seat to a middle-aged, perfectly healthy white woman. Claudette refused, an act which led to being dragged off the bus by police officers, arrested, charged and found guilty. A year later another teenager became the second young girl to refuse to give up her seat on the bus. By now the NAACP began to see the Montgomery bus situation as a way to challenge segregation in court, but the second girl's family paid her fine and there was no court case. The NAACP gave up on using Claudette because she had since become pregnant. The third person to refuse to give up her seat was Rosa Parks, a seamstress and middle-class woman who happened to be secretary for the local chapter of the NAACP.

Prior to reading this book, I had learned that Rosa Parks had been picked by the NAACP, and I thought that when she refused to give up her seat, the event had been orchestrated. I feel better about her now, but while I realize the NAACP could not have used a pregnant teenage girl as its spokesman, I believe Claudette was slighted. I hope lots of people buy and read this book. And agree.

Specifics:

1) Claudette's minister, Reverend Johnson, told her, "I'm so proud of you. Everyone prays for freedom. We've all been praying and praying. But you're different—you want your answer the next morning." (page 35) And you deserve respecful attention.

2) Claudette's lawyer said of her, "I don't mean to take anything away from Mrs. Parks, but Claudette gave all of us the moral courage to do what we did." (page 59) Those words need to be written somewhere prominent, so a lot of people can read them. IMHO.

3) At the end of Claudette's trial when the verdict was announced, Jo Ann Robinson, a local college professor, wrote, "Claudette's agonized sobs penetrated the atmosphere of the courthouse. Many people brushed away their own tears." (page 45) I found that moving.

4) Years later a lady who had been a teenager during the strike, noticed her grandmother still walked past the
white people and sat in the back. She asked why; her grandmother explained that "the bus boycott was not about sitting next to white people. It was about sitting anywhere you please." (page 93) Cool. The same, I'm sure, is also true in educaion.

This book is good; I wholeheartedly recommend it. In case you need additional proof of its worth, it was a finalist for last year's Newberry Award. Contenders for this award are rarely only "for children."

I have yet to be caught up in a novel by Janet Evanivich. Her non-fiction book, How I Write: Secrets of a Bestselling Author, is, however, another story. Conversationally written and filled with basic—and good—information, I'd recommend it to anyone attempting to write fiction.

Wow! A gift book I actually enjoyed reading. I'm pleased.

I just completed The Wake of Forgiveness by Bruce Machart. It is set in Texas during the late 19th century and centers around fights for land, existence and the rather strange families involved in them.

The author lays out an exquisite use of language to describe the people and events yet for me the lushness of the words fail to meaningfully add to either the story or develop the people.

The result was that I would set the book aside for a few days and quite forget what I was reading about when I picked it up again. I am not a big fan of time swapping in books anyway, but when the author jumps around from then to now to before then and back it sometimes left me wondering what was going on.

Overall it is worth a read, but I thought there was a certain hollowness to the writing.

Dang! Reading Charles Dickens is r---e---a---l---l---y s---l---o---w g---o---i---n---g, but I have finally finished The Mystery of Edwin Drood, which is not only slow—it's frustrating. I started the book with a sense of glee. "Dickens at only 224 pages? Wow!" Then gradually it sank in that he died while writing this book. Consequently I'll never ever know how he would have ended it.

I think the book made it on my unread shelf because a year ago another book called Drood—I forget the author—was released to glowing reviews. How could I read Drood without reading the original? I wondered. So, I read The Mystery of Edwin Drood. Now it's obviously time to go buy Drood, read it whenever, and find out if the whole Droodian thingy was a success.

The things I noticed while reading The Mystery of Edwin Drood were bits of writing that impressed me, unfamiliar words, and language oddities (at least things I found odd IMHO). So we'll start:

Impressive bits:

1) Sometimes even Dickens can make me smile.
2) "'Umps,' said Mr. Gregious, with a nod. But with such an extraordinary compromise between unqualified assent and a qualified dissent, that his visitor was much disconcerted." (page 92) I like ambiguous words. I think I'll start "umpsing." A lot.

3) You can't beat Dickens for naming characters, an opinion I was reminded of during a conversation held by Mr. Crisparkle, Mr. Honeythunder, and Minor Canon. (page 152)

4) Later in the story a Dick Datchery arrives, looking for lodging that is "venerable, architectural and inconvenient." He is assured by a waiter that "We have a good choice of inconvenient lodgings in the town." (page 163) Sure makes me want to take up residence. How 'bout you?

5) "'I beg pardon,' Mr. Datchery said, making a leg with his hat under his arm." (page 166) Say what? Help me out. Please.

6) It appears that Charles Dickens is not above a pun.
Unfamiliar words:

1) Wittles. "And it (opium) takes away the hunger as well as the wittles." (page 2) Google sent me to a site which, in lieu of definitions (saying there weren't any), gave three sentences where wittles is substituted for vittles. (Same site also said "wittles" was not accepted in Scrabble, FYI.) And I guess that makes the quote make sense—if someone is buying opium, he won't have money for food. But not accepted in Scrabble? Sorry. That makes it not-a-word. Or an unword?

2) Acidulated. "No, I can't kiss you, because I have an acidulated drop in my mouth." (page 18) Dictionary.com*: To make somewhat acid, to sour." OK. Why? These days we work for not sour.

3) Esquimaux. "I have put my finger on the North Pole before now, and said, "Spear of Esquimaux make, for half a pint of pale sherry." (page 26) "a former spelling of Eskimo." Like that makes the sentence any clearer?

4) Tippet. "He had a scanty flat crop of hair, in colour and consistency like some mangy yellow fur tippet." (page 66) The point of a hood or the dangling part of a sleeve. Okay.

5) Forasmuch. "… forasmuch as it has engendered …" (page 81) I never consciously realized it was one word. More heard than read? Possibly.

6) Corbels. "… the corbels of the roof, …" (page 108) "any bracket, esp. one of brick or stone, usually of slight extent. ´ Okay.

7) Chip. "I was born a Chip, and have neither soft sympathies nor soft experiences." (page 95) Capitalized, I could find nothing. Anyone know anything?

8) Calenture. "A mild fit of calenture seizes hum." (page 108) "A violent fever with delirium" Doesn't sound mild to me. Is one allowed to argue with Dickens?

9) Boggling. Mr. Datchery, in search of his inconvenient lodging, "went bobbling about." (page 164) "To bungle; botch." Nice word. Glad to know it.

10) Farden. "I lay it out honest to the last brass farden." (page 215) No definition in either dictionary or wordnik. Sentences in the latter suggest it's an amount of money—which is pretty much what I assumed.

11) Calumniated. "Why should the young man be so calumniated?" (page 223) "to make false and malicious statements about; slander." Umps.


Language oddity: (Thought I'd noticed more. Oh, well.)

1) "… to compassionate somebody…" (page 193) Yep. Fourth definition is a verb, "to have compassion for." I don't think I've ever run into that usage before.

On second thought, maybe The Mystery of Edwin Drood took so long to read because I kept running up against unfamiliar words. UMPS!

*All quoted definitions are from dictionary.com unless otherwise noted.

I better not try it. I can see myself never picking it up again.