the reed feed

combining my love of books & food #obviously

[reedtobefreed]

2016 Reading Goals

I’ve set reading goals before—most notably, in 3rd grade I attempted to conquer the entire set of encyclopedias in a single summer (but only made it through the letter M). There was also the time I tried to read all 7 Harry Potter books in 24 hours. Other goals have been more complicated, like to read more overall but also to finish a favorite author’s entire work and blog more and join a book club and and and....

This year I’m keeping it simple and participating in the Goodreads challenge, in which I vowed to read 50 books this year, approximately 1 per week or 4 per month. With graduate school and long distance friendships to keep up with and living in a new city, 50 seemed like a reasonable albeit tough benchmark to work towards. I’ll be taking an inclusive approach, so any re-reads of books I’ve previously read will count, along with any required reading for my classes.

Here are some on my list:

The Master and Margarita | Mikhail Bulgakov

Remains of the Day | Kazuo Ishiguro

Green Girl | Kate Zambreno

Consider the Lobster and Other Essays | David Foster Wallace

Fates and Furies | Lauren Groff

Crush | Richard Siken

1Q84 | Haruki Murakami

My Brilliant Friend | Elena Ferrante

Between the World and Me | Ta-Nehisisi Coates

The Luminaries | Eleanor Catton

And more to come!

[popchartlab]

Presenting a pictographic plotting of every prominent category of fiction—sure to please passionate page-turners of all preferences. Features elegantly emblematic hand-illustrations calling to mind classic cover conventions.

20% off today and tomorrow with coupon code MOBYDISCOUNT!

[reedtobefreed]

books books books everybody

[yesknopemaybe]

Book Photo Challenge: Favorite Cover Art

[reedtobefreed]

See what I'm talking about with this cover art?? So good.

[reedtobefreed]

The Yiddish Policemen's Union by Michael Chabon

One-sentence summary: In the temporary Jewish enclave of Sitka, Alaska, detective Meyer Landsman weeds through years of political, religious, and familial history to solve the murder of his neighbor.

Tastes like: The best hard salami/bagel/cream cheese sandwich you ever had (I’m half Jewish so I somehow feel entitled to make this comparison).

Difficulty: If you are looking for a quick & simple detective story, avert your eyes. This is no Finnegans Wake or Infinite Jest, but TYPU does require of its readers an appreciation of wittily intelligent dialogue and a love of intensely detailed characters and communities.

I am SO glad I picked this book up at the library for a second time. My usual selection process involves first making sure the title is interesting, then examining the cover design, and finally reading the inside summary (unless of course I’m searching for a specific author or book). Michael’s TYPU met all three of my criteria (seriously check out the cover art, it is a perfect combination of political, Native American art, detective-y symbols, and trendy colors. Swag on.)

As I was reading this book, I felt like I was breathing insanely fresh, snow-cleansed, air. Dayum lil ma, Michael Chabon can write. He seems to be acutely aware of this fact and his prose feels a little overdone by the end of the book, but when you can pen gems like this, no one’s going to give you a hard time:

"And just last week, amid the panic and feathers of a kosher slaughterhouse on Zhitlovsky Avenue, a chicken turned on the shochet as he raised his ritual knife and announced, in Aramaic, the imminent advent of Messiah. According to the Tog, the miraculous chicken offered a number of startling predictions, though it neglected to mention the soup in which, having once more fallen silent as God Himself, it afterward featured. Even the most casual study of the record, Landsman thinks, would show that strange times to be a Jew have almost always been, as well, strange times to be a chicken."

Equal parts dark hilarity & cutting religiopolitical commentary. Sign me up for the club.

So what is TYPU actually about? Detective Meyer Landsman lives in Sitka, Alaska, an alternate place of refuge for the post WWII Jews (the setting feels so real I had to use Google to make sure I didn’t miss some crucial part of Jewish history). In approximately five months, Sitka will be returned to the Americans and the Jews don’t exactly know who gets to stay or where they’ll be sent. Landsman is very much a product of this liminal space, no real ties to his Jewish heritage, no large extended family to plan for the future with since his parents and sister have all died (although his detective partner, Berko, is his cousin and also awesome). His ex-wife (who he’s still in love with but feels immense guilt around because he thinks he failed her) is his new boss, and he tends to make stupidly brave decisions in his work, giving her difficult decisions to make. Landsman lives in the run-down Hotel Zamenhof, and one of his hotel neighbors is murdered next to a chess board. Landsman’s father was a chesspert (chess expert?) and killed himself so it seems that Landsman must solve this murder to feel redeemed and to resolve his feelings about his father. However, everything surrounding the murder is complicated and Landsman and Berko soon find themselves untangling a deep and strange combination of family issues and political happenings to uncover what really happened.

Michael is an incredible writer, and built this weirdly gritty and fascinating world that feels like it could exist in reality but also has a hint of mythic wonder to it. I can’t tell you enough how much I loved this novel, and how excited I am to read his other books… I think I may have found a new literary crush (sorry Jack Kerouac!) There were points in reading where I had to stop and re-read sentences several times to just thoroughly enjoy the writing. Words are putty in Michael’s hands. Please read this, for your own good and happiness.

[malfascination]

[fantasticarepickles]

this makes my heart ache

Silverstein always has been, and always will be my favorite poet because he doesn’t even need words in his poem to make people open their eyes.

[reedtobefreed]

Yes Please by Amy Poehler

One-Sentence Summary: Following the trend of fellow female comedians who have released autobiographies in the last few years, Amy's take on herself seems to be one part life story, one part inspirational, and one part rushed humor. Tastes like: Rice Krispy Treats--They've never been my favorite dessert but sugar is sugar, and they have a wholesome enriched cereal base, while also being pretty easy to pull together. Difficulty: Amy's voice in this book is a bit jumbled and at times the narrative is hard to follow, but she did write for SNL and this book is at its best when her comedic timing shines through. I wanted to be as obsessed with this book as I was with Mindy Kaling's Everyone's Hanging out Without Me, or to see a life unfold, as I did in Tina Fey's Bossypants, or even be as equally fascinated and shocked as I was with Lena Dunham's Not That Kind of Girl, but Amy Poehler's Yes Please just didn't quite strike the same chord. Amy has made her career based on being an improv queen, and the book reads like that rather than a coherent narrative. She switches back and forth from telling snippets of her childhood in Boston, to smoking pot in Chicago, to making mistakes on SNL, all interspersed with musings on life and lessons she wants to share with the world. Don't get me wrong--Amy Poehler is AWESOME and inspirational and sincere and funny and creative and a perfect role model and I love her and if she ever reads this I wouldn't want her to be sad at all ever. In fact, as a fan, I still enjoyed reading the book. It's hard to find words that literally make you laugh out loud when you've been in bed for three days with the flu but Amy has all kinds of silly story gems sprinkled throughout, like this one: "When U2 performed, Bono came over to hug me. My whole body blushed and I almost died from excitement and fear. Years later, I paid him back by making out with him during a bit at the Golden Globes, thus completing a circle and allowing myself to effectively time-travel." Her big heart and Boston accent come through clear. Her love of comedy, of her family, of female empowerment, of trying to be a good and better person: all of these things are clear. It's just not that well-pieced together. I got the sense that Amy's editors were too close the material to see why it's a little bit Frankenstein--sewn together and alive but not a real human. She prefaces the book with this short chapter: "Writing is Hard" in which she says that "this book has nearly killed me." AMY! Never apologize for your work, especially in one of the first 8 sentences of a book you want people to pay money for! (Except me, since I checked it digitally from my library fo' free!) I had a professor who told a class one time that girls always start with an apology every time they raise their hand to ask a question or make a comment. And it felt like Amy was doing that, like she was unsure of what she had just done or was about to do. After the recent success of funny female memoirs, this probably seemed like the perfect market to release a book. And if it was the right book, or even this book edited correctly, it would have nestled next to Mindy, Tina, and Lena comfortably. If you are a fan of hers, still give it a chance. I think you'll feel closer to her and laugh and empathize/sympathize (someone explain the difference to me again) and probably value the few hours you spent reading it. It is by no means a waste of time or space. Unfortunately, it fell short for me, a ramshackle attempt at telling Amy Poehler's story. I wanted it to be as big as she was.

[reedtobefreed]

My Life in France by Julia Child

One-sentence summary: With the help of her grand-nephew, the effervescent and accomplished Julia Child penned this delicious autobiographical account of her time in France, with a deliberate focus on her love of French cooking.

Tastes like: With an abundance of food metaphors to choose from, I’d have to say the omelette. The omelette is a simple yet elegant dish, much like this easy-to-read but satisfying trip through Julia Child’s life.

Difficulty: Julia’s voice is straightforward, as if you’re listening to her tell a familiar story. It’s simplicity could make it challenging to stay engaged, as the narrative becomes repetitive.

My Life in France has been on my Goodreads “To-Read” list for almost five years after I read an excerpt in a writing seminar my freshman year of college (thanks Prof. Raycraft!!). I’ve been traveling quite a bit and downloaded the e-book for my Thanksgiving flights (if you have an e-reader or tablet, you can probably download e-books for free from your local library).

This was a nearly perfect choice for airplane reading around the holidays. Julia has a warm, humorous, and joyous voice, so it is a pleasure to dive into this quick autobiography. I’m also the most obsessed with books relating to food and I continuously wanted to pause to attempt a boeuf bourguignon or a freshly buttered brioche loaf. I think I asked my mom close to 500 questions as she prepared our Thanksgiving meal, like I’m about to become the next home cooking master of America…

The book begins with Julia and Paul Child’s move to the glorious city of Paris in 1948 for his job as a cultural ambassador of the United States in post-WWII France. Julia, unoccupied by a job, began to cook in their apartment, inspired by the tantalizing, rich, and complex dishes found in Parisian restaurants. Her early cooking was apparently unsuccessful, but Julia’s curious nature and intellectual appetite for learning the process led her to sign up for classes at Le Cordon Bleu. She also met two Frenchwomen working on a cookbook for Americans, and thus began the creative adventure that produced Mastering the Art of French Cooking (a new addition to my reading list) along with a deeply rooted passion for authentic, painstakingly prepared French food. If you enjoy eating, the descriptions of the meals they consumed over a twenty year span will surely pique your taste buds. I didn’t know what many of the ingredients were, but Julia’s artistry made my ignorance irrelevant: “La Truite’s true glory was its sole á la normande, a poem of poached and flavored sole fillets surrounded by oysters and mussels, and napped with a wonder-sauce of wine, cream, and butter, and topped with fluted mushrooms. ‘Voluptuous’ was the word.” Mmmm. How could you resist that? The book is filled with similar discourse on French food.

Julia also used this platform to talk about her family, her personal struggles, and rise to fame. As one of the most famous American women of the twentieth century, it’s fascinating to delve into her experiences and to develop a vivid representation of who she was and why she’s so important.

I can’t recommend the book as an intellectually stimulating or challenging read. My only criticism is that it veers towards fluff over substance—but this is her story told from her perspective, and I wouldn’t want to have it any other way. All amateur chefs, Francophiles, and foodies should check out My Life in France, and savor the beautiful trip through French cuisine.

[reedtobefreed]

Monster's Chef by Jervey Tervalon

One-sentence summary: After living in a halfway house, drug addict chef Gibson finds a job with mega-celebrity Monster at his mountain compound and dives head first into the twisted world Monster has created.

Tastes like: Twinkies—you know there’s something artificial and off about them, but they’re still delicious and artfully crafted.

Difficulty: This isn’t a “face-value” book. The prose is very readable, although full of mature topics and language. The ideas conveyed go deeper into the role of celebrity, racial identity, addiction and recovery, power, and insanity.

Monster’s Chef was an entertaining and strange departure from the tear-inducing books I had been reading. It opens with this line: “Silence, solitude, and breathable air, that’s all I wanted, not exactly a miracle, but I guess this nightmare of a job is what I deserve.” And a nightmare is exactly what this book feels like. Jervey invented a universe that closely resembles the one we live in, but is just crooked enough that you know it’s a fictional fantasy land. Gibson, the main character, is a chef who is trying to rebuild his life following an arrest. The only job he can get is one cooking for Monster, a famous singer who is known for bleaching his skin, living in a secluded castle he calls his Lair, and his penchant for underage boys (sound familiar???). Monster also has a pregnant wife who doesn’t speak, a right-hand man named Thug, a private army, and a moat built around his castle. When Gibson arrives, he’s instructed to prepare only Living Food, or fruits, vegetables, and grains cooked by the sun. He’s forced to sign extensive non-disclosure agreements. He’s told he’s never to interact with Monster’s wife.

Jervey is preparing us for a descent into madness. At first, things seem normal, and Monster’s quirks are amusing. But then everything starts to go haywire, as Gibson develops a relationship with Monster’s wife, a dead body is found, and Gibson begins to realize that he’s been submerged into a toxic world. Can he escape? The build-up gets crazier and freakier, and the ending is either brilliant or insane. I’m still not sure.

This novel is not for the faint of heart. It’s violent, sexual, a little bit supernatural, and fast-paced. I can’t compare it to anything else I’ve read, although according to the back cover it “echoes Junot Díaz, William Gibson, and Walter Mosley.” The exploration of celebrity, and the role privilege or money play in bending the rules, was fascinating. It leaves you with an almost sick feeling in your stomach, kind of like watching House of Cards (which everyone should do). How can powerful role models be allowed to do terrible things? How do we let them manipulate us into believing half-truths?

If you’re into cutting-edge books, and not squeamish or sensitive, this is a worthwhile, quick read. It’s darkly delicious and thought-provoking. AND as a bonus, Jervey threw in recipes before every chapter! What more could a food-loving soul want?

[reedtobefreed]

Homecoming by Bernhard Schlink

One-sentence summary: In the 50 years following World War II, Peter Debauer searches through pieces of memory, writings, and history to find his father.

Tastes like: Pot roast—substantial, well-rounded, and hearty meal. Not necessarily something I crave on the reg, but delicious and satisfying.

Difficulty: A smart 13 or 14 year old could handle the concepts of justice and morality Bernhard weaves into the narrative.

Homecoming is the second book, and third encounter, I’ve had with Bernhard’s work (I watched the Academy Award-winning The Reader, and read Summer Lies). I'm a descendent of a Holocaust survivor, and his writing tends to hit really close to home. Homecoming was not quite as painful as the other two, and because of that, not quite as powerful. Don’t get me wrong gurlfrand, it is still worth the read. Bernhard is a masterful storyteller, and the book is both moving and enjoyable.

The novel is written from the point of view of the main character, Peter, throughout the course of his adult life with flashbacks to his childhood visits to his grandparents in Switzerland. During these visits, he read parts of novels they were editing, and much later stumbles upon pages from the one that stood out to him. The WWII-adaption of the Odyssey leads Peter on a journey of his own to find the ending of the novel, and then to find the author, and finally to find his father, who he believed for most of his life to be dead. This quest has an ending, which is both satisfying and not satisfying, as most realistic quests should be. Along the way, Peter finds and loses and finds and loses and finds love, and explores his relationship with his mother and his own identity.

There wasn’t anything I hated about Homecoming. It starts on a strong note, and ends on a medium note. The beginnings of a journey or a trip are always the most exciting. The end is when your expectations become a reality, and reality isn’t ever perfect. My two least favorite parts of the book are the recreated pieces of source material, and the exploration of deconstructionist legal theory. Along Peter’s search for the ending to the story, he finds pieces of the novel, letters, news articles, and other documents. I just can never get behind this kind of thing embedded within a novel—I’ve already suspended reality to read fiction, so I can’t double-suspend the new reality for a third source of truth. I always skip the quotes or poems at the beginnings of chapters. This isn’t Bernhard’s fault; in fact, it probably adds a sense of weight and truth to the novel.

The second aspect of Homecoming that lost me a little bit was “Part Five” of the novel. This part serves as the culmination of the whole journey, and was unexpected and disjointed from the first four parts. It involves lengthy descriptions of deconstructionist legal theory, the relevance of which I can’t explain without ruining the ending. This sudden exploration of ethical implications of choices felt strange to me, but as I’m writing this review, I see how that was subtly woven throughout the rest of the book. I wish I’d seen this question at the beginning: “If we knew that evil lived on in the world, why did we live as if we did not need to confront it, as if we did not need to decide what it was and accept the responsibility to act accordingly?”

Homecoming is a good read. Not one I’d recommend running out and buying ASAP, but if you’re into WWII or the search-for-identity genre, it’s a solid choice.

[reedtobefreed]

Tomorrow there will be Apricots by Jessica Soffer

One-sentence summary: Emotionally abused Lorca finds what she believes to be the key to her mother’s heart—cooking lessons and recipes from the recently widowed Victoria.

Tastes like: Grapefruit—I really want to like it but it’s literally painful to consume.

Difficulty: Due to some adult themes (abandonment, self-mutilation, psychological problems, and death), I’d recommend this for a 16+ crowd. Readable for 13+.

I wanted so desperately to obsess over this book. It has several ingredients that I usually love: food as a central plot device, lengthy descriptions of food, female relationships, immigration experiences, self-discovery, and young love. However, Jessica decided to make the experience of reading this novel as excruciating as possible. She gives the lovely young Lorca, who is sweet beyond belief, an emotionally abusive mother, an absent and passive father, a self-mutilation problem, and a crush on a much older boy. Not to harp on the food analogy for too long, but this is a recipe for disaster. Adding to the cringeworthy nature of the book, we have Victoria, an elderly woman who we see go through the experience of losing a baby and later her husband, leaving her all alone in a New York City apartment. I won’t get into details, but the death of her husband is a particularly tragic depiction of what it can be like to grow old.

What bothered me the most about this book wasn’t the intense reality. Detailed narratives about a teenaged girl cutting and burning herself aren’t my favorite topic to read about, but I think confronting real issues like self-harm is important. My problem with the story is its inability to decide whether it is located within reality or fantasy. Jessica created a world that is amorphously cruel, teasing the characters with the possibility of a perfect ending when the reader already knows their lives will probably just get worse. The big ‘plot twist’ in the book revolves around the fact that Lorca’s mom was adopted, and Victoria gave up a baby around the same time the adoption took place. Hints are dropped on the back of the book so I don’t feel bad about revealing this. This bit of fairytale fodder gives Lorca and Victoria the hope that they found a way out of loneliness, but lacks any kind of basis in reality. It is a dreamy kind of harshness, like mixing milk and lemon juice. The contrast is unsettling.

Another instance of this juxtaposition is Lorca’s relationship with Blot, a 19-year old bookseller. He notices her in the store and helps her search for the restaurant that served her mother the perfect meal so Lorca can cook it and finally make her mom love her. EVERY SINGLE ELEMENT OF THAT IS WEIRD. A 19-year old boy helping this young girl borders on creepy and dangerous, and his attentiveness to her is just a romantic notion of what could happen between strangers. This kind of random connection is rare, if not impossible. It’s like Nicholas Sparks and Judy Blume got together to write the Lorca/Blot relationship. Sound odd? It is.

While I could further explain the unnatural and yet uncomfortably realistic story that takes place within the pages of TTWBA, I will instead leave you with recommendations for much better books that capture the essence of what Jessica was trying to achieve. For a phenomenal book about food, family, and supernatural abilities, The Particular Sadness of Lemon Cake is my go-to. For anything to do with an immigrant/refugee experience, Jhumpa Lahiri’s Unaccustomed Earth or The Namesake are both exceptional. For teenage girls growing up, everything by Sarah Dessen is perfect (The Truth About Forever is a gem, my friends). Read one of those first and skip this one.

[reedtobefreed]

The Post-Birthday World by Lionel Shriver

One sentence summary: On a fateful London summer day, Irina makes a romantic decision that sends her into two alternate realities; but which one is best?

Tastes like: Cranberry scones—a succinctly sweet and sour dessert that doesn’t have the lushness of cake or creamy satisfaction of ice cream, but can, in its own way, be quite perfect. Especially on a rainy Saturday morning.

Difficulty: I’d recommend this for 17+ due to adult themes and language (and it honestly may be boring to the pre-college crowd).

In the first several chapters, this novel has the potential to land on the shmaltzy side of Chick Lit (which is a terribly demeaning term for women-centered literature, but whatevs). Once the chapters begin alternating between two possible paths for the lovely Russian-American Irina living in London with her pseudo-husband Lawrence, it becomes much more intriguing. In one set of chapters, she kisses the dashing snooker player Ramsey, and in the other set, she doesn’t and stays with Lawrence. Both scenarios have their struggles, their triumphs and successes, their mundane life-like moments. And the ending (I promise this won’t ruin anything!) doesn’t tell you which choice was right.

Lionel does a great job at exploring a lot of real world issues. Irina is a first generation American who moved to London 15 years ago, and I found the problem of being a third-culture kid interesting, but not central to who Irina is. She also confronts problems most women and men think about, be it having children, working in a successful career, being part of a stable/long-lasting relationship vs. passionate love, having supportive friends, or earning financial safety. Lionel maturely delves into these topics and seems to tell her readers that you can’t exactly fix everything or know what to expect in life. Life will just happen to you, and that’s about all you can do about it. This book isn’t particularly sad, or happy, or depressing. It just is. And that felt like a refreshing departure from the overly dramatic and tragic, or neatly wrapped happy-ending books I often gravitate towards. If you do feel like you can’t survive without a bit of humor, Lionel sprinkles in several silly moments (like the confrontation between Irina’s selfish Russian mother and the outrageous Ramsey, who moves a chair in the living room and ruins the established dents in the carpet).

At the end of the day, this isn’t a ground-breaking award-winning novel, but it did feel relevant to me. Its heartfelt contemplation of what life is, and how one woman may or may not live hers, provided healthy fodder for thought and growth in my own life.

[reedtobefreed]

Bad Monkey

by Carl Hiaasen

One sentence summary: Only in Florida could a former policeman be given a human arm to guard, decide to investigate the origins of said arm, and uncover a web of absurd characters who were involved in its journey (including a very, very bad monkey). 

Tastes like: Key Lime Pie--this one was too easy, since it takes place in the Florida Keys. But the food fits: key lime pie is a little silly & dangerously delicious if you love the tart/sweet/crusty combination.

Difficulty: The words aren't too hard to read, but I'd recommend only high schoolers & above check this one out based on the adult content.

This was the fourth of Carl's novels that I've read, and I have to say it was my favorite of the bunch. Carl has developed his own genre of Floridian satirical adventure tales, and each one I've read takes the absurdity to another level. In Bad Monkey, Andrew Yancy is a former Miami policeman who has been demoted to restaurant inspector in the disgustingly unsanitary Key West. The mayor gives him a human arm that was found on a deep sea fishing trip to protect/keep out of the media. Yancy smells something fishy (har har har) and connects 2 other murders to the missing arm. He decides to pursue the case, freelance style, with the help of a beautiful Cuban medical examiner and an elderly native Bahamian man trying to recover family real estate. There are so many wickedly hilarious details I can't even describe--like Yancy's ex-lover, who happens to be a wanted criminal in Oklahoma, or the Dragon Queen, who rules Andros (a small town in the Bahamas) with voodoo curses from the cushy seat of her motorized scooter. These details are woven together effortlessly and make for a fast-paced, exciting read.

Bad Monkey is not for the faint of heart--some weird stuff goes down on a stainless steel morgue table--but if you think Florida is interesting & enjoy snappy sarcastic writing, you'll love this book. And wish you were lying on a sunny Florida beach with a mojito (or two) in hand.

[reedtobefreed]

The Lion, the Witch, & the Wardrobe: Chronicles of Narnia Pt. 2

by C.S. Lewis

One sentence summary: 4 adorably British children fall through the back of a wardrobe into a country with an everlasting-Christmas-less-winter curse placed upon it by an evil witch who must be defeated with the help of a lion.

Tastes like: Thin Mints--crisp, kid-friendly, & sweet with a kick of minty freshness.

Difficulty: Most 3rd-4th graders could handle reading this.

I reread this beloved children's classic last night while taking a warm bath by candlelight, so excuse me if I begin to wax poetic. Clive really nailed it with this episode of the seven-piece CoN series. While it's not my favorite of the bunch (you'll have to wait for the rest of my reviews for that verdict), TLTWATW elicits so many feelings inside my ancient (23-year-old) soul. Whether you consider the transformative narrative of Edmund, who grows from sassy and disgruntled middle child to a wise and just king, or the sparkling delight that emerges when Father Christmas shows up outside of Mr. & Mrs. Beaver's house in the midst of a deep freeze, every page of this book forced smile after smile onto my too often cynical countenance. Many of the characters are a bit one-note (besides Edmund, everyone else is pretty much either evil or good for the entire book), but Clive created a relatable allegorical tale that both children and adults can enjoy. He sprinkles the book with gloriously subtle asides, like

"Giants of any sort are now so rare in England and so few giants are good-tempered that ten to one you have never seen a giant when his face is beaming."

The richness and humor of his writing give TLTWATW a layer of magic echoed in all good children's literature over the subsequent sixty-plus years (see Roald Dahl, J.K. Rowling, Diana Wynne Jones, etc.) If I hear the names Mr. Tumnus (the lovable faun who gives up his safety to save Lucy) or Aslan (the Christ-like lion emperor of Narnia) or Giant Rumblebuffin (of the Buffin clan), I can't help but imagine snow-covered forests smelling of pine and the triumph of pure goodness defeating evil.

I haven't even truly begun to dig into the Christian undertones of Clive's writing, which make this series a favorite among certain audiences. If you're swagged off by overtly Christian literature, this series is still for you! The references are obvious but not over-bearing, thoughtful & philosophical, not agenda-driven propaganda. Needless to say, TLTWATW is an exquisite second book in the CoN series (published first in 1950 but falls sequentially after The Magician's Nephew).

[wearethedigitalkids]

In the end, great nonfiction writing does not necessarily require any accuracy greater than that of an honest and vividly rendered confusion.

(via wearethedigitalkids)

[reedtobefreed]

Divergent

by Veronica Roth

The one sentence summary: In post-apocalyptic Chi-town, girl chooses which segment of society to spend the rest of her life in, trains to become part of it, meets a tattooed boy & falls in love, and things get weird (in society, not with the boy).

Tastes like: Vegan Nachos--delicious if you've never had normal nachos before, but a little off if you like meat & cheese.

Difficulty: A 3 on the 5 pt scale from Twilight to Harry Potter

In part 1 of the Divergent trilogy, Veronica tells us the tale of Katniss Jr., aka 'Tris', who joins Gryffindor Jr., aka 'Dauntless.' Tris lives in a world where people are one of five types: fearless, kind, smart, selfless, or honest. If you don't fit one of the factions, you are Divergent, which is kind of like being a terrorist according to the society's ruling classes. As you might guess, the main character of a book titled Divergent is divergent. CLEVER. Tris's divergence manifests itself most interestingly in her ability to manipulate the injection-fueled simulations used to test initiates on their fear management skills. Here is where Veronica is at her best: her description of the psychological trauma of confronting your fears in your mind even though they feel real is intense and forced me to confront the fears along with Tris. I was also really swagged on by all of the training at the Dauntless headquarters (which Tris picks as her faction to avoid being discovered as divergent). Unlike in most other young adult fiction, the characters go through some pretty dark moments. I won't spoil anything, but you just won't be prepared for the ending of the book--not that it was particularly good, but everything kind of explodes like that time you put a Peep in the microwave (don't try this at home kids). Tris of course has the lovely Four (so named because he only has four fears, and a million tattoos) to keep her company. Four is mysterious for most of the book but then he reveals his real name and let's just say it's the most unfitting name one could think of for an attractive male character, unless you're writing about an elderly monk (who, come to think of it, would not require a sexy moniker).

Divergent is a quick, entertaining read with deeper social commentary. However, its blatant resemblance to the Hunger Games, Ender's Game, and Harry Potter dulls some of its charm. Divergent nears excellence, but it doesn't quite deserve the hype. Veronica's character & plot development both feel rushed, and come almost tauntingly close to hitting the spot avid readers devotedly search for. It's like grabbing a nacho and realizing there's no beef & the cheese came from a soybean not a cow--you won't spit it out, but that moment could've gone better. Divergent was tasty & fast enough to give the sequels, Insurgent & Allegient, a chance.

*PUBLIC SERVICE ANNOUNCEMENT: Read Hunger Games, Ender's Game, and Harry Potter before this book please and thank you

[anenlighteningellipsis]

Literature adds to reality, it does not simply describe it. It enriches the necessary competencies that daily life requires and provides; and in this respect, it irrigates the deserts that our lives have already become.

C. S. Lewis (via ermarty)

[reedtobefreed]

The Magician's Nephew: Chronicles of Narnia Pt. 1

by C.S. Lewis

So I decided to individual reviews for each book in this series because A) It's a wonderful series and B) They each deserve their own review and C) Who knows when I'll be able to finish all of them and write a coherent/massive review for seven books.

Which brings me to the book itself: The Magician's Nephew, an often overlooked but richly developed precursor to the better known The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe or The Voyage of the Dawn Treader. Lewis published it sixth, but it fits into the storyline first, and in my opinion, is necessary to understand the following plot lines. The story follows Digory and Polly, two precocious and concisely British children, as they fall into an adventure that leads to the creation of Narnia (the otherworld setting for following books).

Why do I like this book so much? At first glance, it reads a bit simply: 220 fast pages that don't always seem to contribute to an overarching plot, small children as the main characters, one-dimensional villains. But within the context of the Narnia series, it epitomizes Lewis' unique & unprecedented blend of moral & magical, deeply thematic & frothy dialogued, adult & childlike. I simultaneously felt a sense of wonder & philosophical inquiry--something hard to achieve, as made apparent by most popular children's literature of the past few decades. Lewis somehow manages to underlay the fantastic world of Narnia with some of the most serious moral, political, and religious questions anyone could face. The first time I noticed this, the evil Queen Jadis is addressing Polly & Digory's concern with her mass murder of the common people:

"Don't you understand? I was the Queen. They were all my people. What else were they there for but to do my will?"

Hmm. The answer to this political dilemma seems obvious, but within the historical context of the 1950s world it becomes more interesting, especially when the Queen's perspective is contrasted with the Christ-like Aslan's gentle fierceness later in the book. Religious connotations are also pretty overt throughout, especially as Narnia begins to be created by Aslan's song of life, and Digory travels to a sacred valley to obtain an apple from a tree reminiscent of the "Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil" that Adam & Eve eat from in Genesis, leading to the introduction of sin into human life.

Lewis is obviously referencing early Judaism/Christianity, but this book still carries a purpose of its own beyond any religious doctrine, and is thus worth reading. Its quirky, unpretentious style and thought-provoking themes make the few hours spent reading it valuable. I'd give it an 8/10.