Tag: books

I’d never heard of Jon Hassler until I moved to Minnesota. That’s a pity, because while Jon Hassler’s novels are almost exclusively about Minnesota — small-town Minnesota, to be specific — they are beautiful stories of ordinary people trying to get through life. And while Hassler wrote many good books, I don’t think he ever outdid his first novel, Staggerford.

Staggerford takes place in and around the town of Staggerford, Minnesota, between October 30 and November 7 in the mid-1970s. It focuses on 35-year-old high school English teacher Miles Pruitt, a bachelor and lapsed Catholic who lives with Agatha McGee, one of his former Catholic school teachers. A generally compliant man who tends to think more than he acts, Miles seems to exert little control over his own life; it just happens. Thus, he cherishes an old flame, Anna Thea, who didn’t marry him perhaps only because he didn’t get around to asking her.

For no good reason except that he didn’t catch her name when he was introduced to her, he insisted upon calling her Thanatopsis Hayworth, which always made her laugh. Her hair was dark with a tinge of sable in it. She sewed, skied, cooked, giggled, read books, visited the sick, loved her students, and was obviously going to make somebody a nifty wife. After dating her several times, Miles began to think about marriage; but Miles’s thoughts were generally long thoughts, and before he came to a decision Thanatopsis Hayworth married Wayne Workman, who came to town as the new high-school principal. So now she was Anna Thea Workman, though Miles still called her Thanatopsis; and to this day she taught home ec across the hall from Miles’s classroom, and Miles was still in love with her.

Despite the fact that Miles seems to be drifting through life, he does try to do the right thing. One of his senior students, Beverly Bingham, begins seeking him out. Miles sees that “she’s got brains and a certain amount of ambition, but she doesn’t know what to do next. And she comes from such an abnormal home life that she’s not sure she can make it… and all in all she’s just plain scared.” He tries to navigate her need with the dangers of her obvious crush on him and his own attraction to her.

For all that Miles tries to do right, it seems that things often go wrong. He borrows a uniform for a Halloween party and finds it irreparably damaged after someone throws up on it. He tries to get a toothache fixed and ends up with a botched dental job. He counsels Beverly and gets accused of having an inappropriate relationship with her. He breaks up a fight between students and ends up being dragged into an escalating conflict between whites and Native Americans.

True to life, Staggerford is humorous and heartbreaking — sometimes both at the same time. When Hassler describes Miles as he waits for someone to pick him up after his wisdom tooth has been removed, he writes:

He stood on the curb and took out the handkerchief to catch the string of blood that hung from his mouth. It was an elastic string without an end. In retribution to Dr. Karstenburg he took the handkerchief away from his mouth whenever a car passed and let the blood swing from his lower lip and drape itself into the gutter for all the world to see.

And just as life can throw us surprises, Staggerford contains a twist that seems to come from out of nowhere. The first time I read the book, I was so shocked that all I could think was, “Well, that’s the way life is. Sometimes things just happen out of the blue.” When I reread the book, I realized that Hassler had, in fact, engaged in some skillful and very subtle foreshadowing. I admire him all the more for not being heavy-handed about it.

There are plenty of other excellent books by Hassler. You can revisit Staggerford through A Green Journey, Dear James, The Staggerford Flood, The Staggerford Murders, and The New Woman. But if you want more Hassler after reading Staggerford, I recommend leaving that town for a while and reading The Love Hunter, Rookery Blues, or Grand Opening. All of them manage to capture a particular time and place while speaking about the timeless struggles of ordinary people.

Many people, myself included, were dismayed when we learned that the Cathedral of Notre Dame was burning. Even reading the words of medievalist Dr. Jennifer Awes Freeman, who wrote “church buildings… are not static things,” was not completely comforting. (Full disclosure: I work with Jennifer.) When we love something — even something we haven’t seen — we often want to preserve it. Yes, things change, but we don’t always find that truth easy to swallow.

However, Jennifer’s response to the fire reminded me of a book I’d been meaning to share here: The Pillars of the Earth by Ken Follett. This 983-page historical novel spans a period of about fifty years… and much of the action revolves around a cathedral.

In the simplest terms (I’m leaving out a lot by summarizing things this way), the book tells the stories of Tom Builder, his family, and Prior Philip, Tom’s employer and the adoptive father of his youngest child.

When we first meet Tom, he is traveling with his two children and pregnant wife, searching for work. While Tom wants to provide for his family, he also yearns for a specific sort of work: He wants to build a cathedral. When the cathedral at Kingsbridge burns down, Tom gets his chance.

There’s a lot to love about this book, but what I enjoyed most were the ways in which many of the characters pursue satisfying work. Philip is determined to reform and improve Kingsbridge Priory. A character named Aliena becomes a successful wool merchant as she tries to support her brother. And Tom dedicates his life to building a cathedral.

[Tom’s wife, Agnes,] could not comprehend the irresistible attraction of building a cathedral: the absorbing complexity of organization, the intellectual challenge of the calculations, the sheer size of the walls, and the breathtaking beauty and grandeur of the finished building. Once he had tasted that wine, Tom was never satisfied with anything less.

I’m hardly the only person who has loved The Pillars of the Earth. The book has inspired a television miniseries, three board games, a video game, and even a musical.

Follett has written two sequels to The Pillars of the Earth, neither of which I’ve read. But you don’t need to worry that starting this hefty book will commit you to the series. This story of love and ambition in medieval England stands well on its own.

 

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When I was a child, I loved all sorts of fantastical beings — dragons, fairies, unicorns, mermaids. I still have books leftover from that era: Peter Dickinson’s The Flight of Dragons, Brian Froud and Alan Lee’s Faeries. And from time to time, I find myself wanting to indulge the girl I once was. So when I was recently in the mood to read about selkies, I picked The Brides of Rollrock Island from a list somewhere on the Internet. I thought I was indulging a whim with a book that would probably be a bit trashy. Instead I was pleasantly surprised to find that this YA novel by Margo Lanagan is really quite good.

Misskaela Prout is at the heart of the story. Misskaela is large and unattractive by the standards of those around her; her grandmother says she “harks back,” revealing a bit of her family’s selkie heritage. As she grows older, Miskaella discovers that she has a power over seals. She can attract them, and she can even draw a human being out from a seal.

Hurt and angered by the way her family and fellow islanders treat her, when the first young man approaches to ask if she can give him a selkie wife, she sees an opportunity for revenge. She delivers what he wants — for a hefty price. These beautiful, docile women enchant the island’s men. Soon man after man pays Misskaela for a selkie wife or mistress, pushing the island’s women aside. Misskaela is happy — as happy as her bitter heart will let her be — growing wealthy off the backs of the foolish island men who are besotted with their seal-wives, and watching in triumph as the women of Rollrock Island are forced to leave rather than compete with the growing population of selkie women.

My child was as surprised as I was when I told her how much I was enjoying this complex, feminist story. “The cover looks like it’s trashy,” she said, and so it does. But Lanagan is an excellent writer who weaves an interesting tale. She manages to make you feel both sympathy for and anger with Misskaela. Even the selkie women — as beautiful and compliant as they are — are more than robotic Stepford wives. The greatest weakness to Lanagan’s story is its men; virtually all of them fall prey to the glamour of the selkies, unable to choose faithfulness to their wives or fiancees.

The Brides of Rollrock Island is not a must-read. It will not become a classic, sitting on people’s bookshelves (or in their electronic readers) 100 years from now. But if you can get past the cover, you’ll find it’s a thoughtful and entertaining read, well worth your time.

I think I’ve made it clear that I believe that the best children’s literature can be enjoyed just as much (if not more) by adults. That’s why I eagerly await the announcement of the Newbery award winner each January.

Since 1922, the Newbery Medal has been awarded to “the most distinguished contribution to American literature for children.” You probably know and love many winners, such as The Voyages of Doctor Doolittle, Caddie Woodlawn, Call It Courage, King of the Wind, Ginger Pye, Mrs. Frisby and the Rats of NIMH, and The Giver. Not all of the books stand the test of time. The first winner, The Story of Mankind, was so dry that I set it aside without finishing it. But many of the books are still enjoyable today. It’s worth your while to read some past winners. Don’t pick randomly; unless you plan to read all past winners, base your choices on reviews. And when the next winner is announced, request it from your local library… or buy it. The author can almost certainly use your support.

I’ve written about some of the winners in past blog posts: A Wrinkle in Time and When You Reach Me, The High King, and Hitty. Some of my other favorites include The Hero and the Crown (another story about a strong princess to add to my list), The Graveyard Book, and The Girl Who Drank the Moon.

All sorts of things can determine what books we read. We pick up books by favorite authors or celebrities. We act on the recommendations of friends and cultural critics. If we’re nerdy enough, we may even have a “blind date with a book.”

I’d like to recommend that you start allowing the Association for Library Service for Children pick some of your reading for you. Read Newbery Medal winners to yourself, or read them to children you know. Just make sure to add some of the winners to your reading list.

Forget “The Little Mermaid.” My favorite fairy tale by Hans Christian Andersen is his lengthy story “The Snow Queen.” I’ve already alluded to one book that was loosely based on that story: Anne Ursu’s Breadcrumbs. Today I’m recommending another book inspired by the same fairy tale: The Snow Queen by Joan D. Vinge.

The Snow Queen is among the best science fiction books I’ve read. The cover blurb from Arthur C. Clarke says “it has the weight and texture of Dune.” While I don’t think The Snow Queen quite reaches the level of Dune, I understand what Clarke means. Vinge has created a complex universe filled with different creatures and cultures. This novel is worth reading and re-reading.

Most of the action takes place on Tiamat, a watery planet situated near The Black Gate, a black hole that allows members of the eight-planet Hegemony to travel from one planet to another. Unlike the Hegemony’s other worlds, Tiamat is situated so close to the Black Gate that it is inaccessible to interstellar travel during the planet’s summer, which lasts for 100 of every 250 years. According to the planet’s customs, its tech-loving Winter clan holds sway during the years it is open to off-worlders, while the more “primitive” Summer clan rules during its years of planetary solitude.

This cycle benefits wealthy and powerful off-worlders who want access to Tiamat’s valuable resource: the Water of Life, distilled from the blood of an indigenous life-form, the mer. Off-worlders barter for the Water of Life with technology. They withhold technological secrets from Tiamat’s citizens, going as far as destroying all technology on Tiamat when they abandon the planet at winter’s end.

The book begins toward the end of the reign of the latest Winter Queen, Arienrhod. Arienrhod has used the Water of Life to preserve her youth, ruling for the entirety of winter. Desiring to end Tiamat’s dependence on the rest of the Hegemony, Arienrhod has implanted Summer women with her clones. Once one of her clones has grown to maturity, Arienrhod plans to teach her to be a worthy successor who will further Tiamat’s growth during the summer season.

One of Arienrhod’s clones does survive — a perfect replica of her. Moon grows up in Summer with her cousin, Sparks. The pair are practically inseparable, but their different callings drive a wedge between them. Sparks leaves for Carbuncle, Tiamat’s largest city and the seat of government. Arienrhod, who has kept track of her clones through the years, brings Sparks to the palace and sends a message to Moon: her cousin needs her. Moon sets out for Carbuncle, but she is waylaid, complicating Arienrhod’s plans and frustrating her own desire to quickly reunite with her cousin and lover.

Beyond the overarching story of Moon (Gerda), Sparks (Kay), and the Snow Queen, there are few direct parallels between Vinge’s story and Andersen’s, though one character who shows up late in the story is clearly the Robber Girl from Andersen’s tale. Instead, Vinge introduces us to a rich array of characters from different worlds. Virtually all of them are morally complex with different goals and beliefs. Arienrhod is one of the villains of the story, but one can’t help sympathizing with her desire to liberate her planet from its dependence on off-worlders.

Only Moon confines to fairy-tale stereotypes, the perfect heroine who wins over everyone who meets her. That’s a relatively small flaw in a wonderful book. And even if you know Andersen’s story, Vinge complicates things just enough to leave readers feeling uneasy about the ending. Moon’s perfection aside, this is no fairy tale.

Vinge has written more books set in the Hegemony. I’ve only read The Summer Queen, The Snow Queen‘s sequel. I remember being disappointed with it when I read it, but when I recently looked at others’ reviews of it, I wondered if I was being unfair. If anything, The Summer Queen is even less of a fairy tale than The Snow Queen, and I think I was looking for something more cheerful and straightforward when I read it. So read The Snow Queen, and if you’re not ready to let go of the characters when you reach the last page, know that Vinge has got you covered.

H.P. Lovecraft is one of the most influential horror writers ever, inspiring many writers inside and outside that genre. You can find his imprint all over geek culture — in role playing and board games, in fanfiction and fan art, in filk music, in cosplay, and in countless crafts.

Unfortunately, he was also a racist.

How do you reconcile your love for someone’s art when you can’t stand their beliefs? In Lovecraft’s case, many people have written their own books within the Cthulhu Mythos that directly engage with racism.

I first encountered this sort of fresh take on Lovecraft when I heard an interview with Victor LaValle, author of The Ballad of Black Tom. About a year later, I learned about Winter Tide by Ruthanna Emrys. Intrigued, I decided to read these books… but to truly understand them, that meant I needed to read Lovecraft.

Until recently, virtually all of my knowledge about Lovecraft’s literature was second-hand. I read The Dream-Quest of Unknown Kadath when I was a kid, but with its armies of cats and glibbering, meeping ghouls, it is more weird fantasy than horror. I didn’t hate it, but I didn’t feel the desire to read more Lovecraft either. Instead, I took in Lovecraft in other ways. I saw The Curse (a horrible movie based on “The Color Out of Space”) with a college boyfriend. That same year, I played endless games of Call of Cthulhu. When I started going to cons, I enjoyed Cthulhu sightings among the arts and crafts on display. And I read Neil Gaiman’s amusing “A Study in Emerald,” a mashup of Lovecraft and Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.

I finally picked up a collection of Lovecraft’s short stories and novellas last year. I read “The Horror of Red Hook,” on which LaValle’s book is based, “The Shadow Over Innsmouth,” which inspired Winter Tide, and much more. At first I thought, “This isn’t that scary.” Then one night I had a disturbing dream that mixed “The Shadow Over Innsmouth” with “At the Mountains of Madness,” and I had to set Lovecraft aside for a while. Other people may have had different experiences, but I found that Lovecraft’s horror is the kind that creeps up on you, grabbing you just when you thought you were safe.

Once I was better acquainted with Lovecraft, I was prepared for the books by LaValle and Emrys. In addition to those, I also read Lovecraft Country by Matt Ruff, which I ran across in a library display.

The Ballad of Black Tom by Victor LaValle

The Ballad of Black Tom is a short but masterful retelling of “The Horror at Red Hook” from the point of view of a black man. Tom is drawn reluctantly into the world of Robert Suydam, a white man with an interest in the Old Ones. I don’t want to give too much away, because the story didn’t go where I expected it to go. I will say that LaValle has developed a brilliant twist on Lovecraft’s original story. Tom is a complex character, neither victim nor hero — and in the end, that’s what makes this book so good.

Winter Tide by Ruthanna Emrys

Unlike the other two Lovecraft-inspired books in this post, Winter Tide isn’t horror. It’s a melancholy, beautiful novel that turns “The Shadow Over Innsmouth” on its head. Lovecraft’s Innsmouth is peopled by monsters. Emrys asks, “What if the people of Innsmouth were viewed as monsters simply because they were different?”

The story takes place shortly after World War II. Prior to the war, the U.S. government rounded up the people of Innsmouth and placed them in an internment camp. By the time Japanese Americans were sent there, only a few of the original prisoners were left. At the war’s end, Aphra Marsh and her brother, Caleb, were the only “people of the water” to walk free.

Aphra surrounds herself with others on the fringes of society: the Japanese American family that became her second family at the camp, the gay bookseller she works with, a gay Jewish FBI Agent she sometimes assists, a college student who — as a woman — is denied access to the knowledge available to men, a black woman who is a secret agent for the FBI. At the government’s request, Aphra and her teammates search for someone who has knowledge of bodyswapping. But Aphra and Caleb have a more personal quest: to find what remains of their heritage and their people. Winter Tide is a good read that adds depth to the Mythos. In July, Tor released Emrys’ follow-up novel, Deep Roots.

Lovecraft Country by Matt Ruff

Lovecraft Country is a novel made up of short stories, each of which propels the plot forward. The book is set primarily in 1950s Chicago, though characters journey to other places, even outside the known universe. Lovecraft Country begins with Atticus Turner, a black man who discovers that he is a descendant of Titus Braithwhite, a slave-trader and dabbler in the occult. The current living Braithwhite patriarch and his son have also discovered Atticus’ ancestry. They’re eager to make use of the fact that he is related to them, yet “lesser” in their eyes. Each story within the novel is told from the point of view of one of Atticus’ family members or friends, all of whom are drawn into the orbit of the Braithwhite family and its enemies — living or dead.

The stories range from terrifying to amusing. “Horace and the Devil Doll,” told from the point of view of Atticus’ young cousin, is truly frightening. “Dreams of the Which House” has occasional tense moments, but the main character’s stubborn determination to own a house, even though it is haunted and in a white neighborhood, pushes the story from horror to comedy by the end. I loved all three of the books I mention in this post, but Lovecraft Country is my favorite — the sort of book that is hard to put down.

LaValle, Emrys, and Ruff are hardly the only people to re-imagine Lovecraft in liberating ways. Bryan Thao Worra’s essay (linked to above but also here for your convenience) has given me new avenues to pursue. And since I started my Lovecraftian journey with The Dream-Quest of Unknown Kadath, I almost certainly should read The Dream-Quest of Vellitt Boe. There is no shortage of writers willing to use Lovecraft’s Mythos to engage the very things that trouble us most about him. Looks like humankind is triumphing over the bleak chaos of Lovecraft’s gods after all! 😉

 

I read Fran Wilde’s first novel, Updraft, not long after it came out, and I fell in love with the world she created.

In the Bone Universe, people live in a city of bone towers and fly from place to place. Nearly invisible skymouths grab the unwary with their tentacles. Mysterious tattooed Singers, who live in the Spire, maintain order. Breaking the city’s Laws can result in receiving bone chips, which weigh a flyer down. The Singers sacrifice the worst Lawsbreakers to the city, dropping them from the sky without their wings.

Updraft is Kirit’s story. In the days leading up to her wingtest, Kirit wants nothing more than to become her mother’s apprentice, learning to successfully trade goods among the towers. One bad choice threatens all of her plans.

Wilde’s Bone Universe is interesting and logical. In a world where people never descend their towers, metal is a scarce and valuable resource. The only meat people eat comes from birds; their clothing is made of silk (spun by spiders). As Kirit’s story unfolds, Wilde tells us just enough and no more. She leaves her readers curious: What lies beneath the clouds? In the first book, we never learn.

I also enjoyed the characters: Kirit and her friend Nat (unlike many male-female friendships in books, this one seems to be entirely platonic); Wik, a Singer who discovers a rare talent in Kirit and forces her to bargain with the Spire; and the young Singer apprentices Moc and Ciel — although they remind me a little of Poppet and Widget from The Night Circus.

Because Wilde is so good at drawing us into her world and the lives of her characters, I was glad to pick up the next novel in the series, Cloudbound.

Compared to Updraft, Cloudbound was disappointing. This time the story is told through Nat’s eyes. While I enjoyed meeting him in the first book, I found him a little annoying in the second. As a young adult, Nat has become involved in the city’s politics. It feels like much of the book involves his angst over doing the right thing. Where Updraft moves along, Cloudbound is slow, filled with political debates that drag on and on. Were it not for the fact that Wilde gives us a whole new layer to the Bone Universe as we dive beneath the clouds, I might have given up on the series.

But Wilde’s world carried me along, bringing me to the final book in the series, Horizon. Any faith I’d lost in her was restored by this book. This time she tells the story from three points of view: Kirit’s, Nat’s, and that of Spire-born Macal. We move from the ground, where we finally discover the truth behind the Bone Universe, back up to the tops of the towers and to all points in between. The stakes are high, and the plot moves at a faster pace than in Cloudbound. We see the characters at their best and their worst. By the time I had finished, I found myself missing both favorite characters and the universe itself — the sure sign of a good series.

If you enjoy science fiction and fantasy set in well-crafted universes, spend some time exploring Wilde’s Bone Universe. Her website mentions two short stories set in the Bone Universe and some additional stories and novellas set in a different universe. I look forward to future encounters with her work.