Racking Up — and Rating — Books Read in 2013 (With Last-Minute Addition)

I read a lot this year, more than I realized: nearly six dozen tomes in all. Now, to be fair, a few were books for younger readers — but that means they were shorter, or more carefully illustrated, as opposed to being less robust and complex. 

Good authors write to the story and trust their audience. Good readers read the story and trust their authors. That perfect match makes for heavenly reading, and I made quite a few good matches this calendar year.

What was my favorite book? As if I could choose one! Well, here are a few (in no particular order) that stayed with me long after I turned the last page:

• Life After Life — what if you could take nearly every path life could offer? (review)
• Dr. Sleep — Finished it in the waning hours of 2013, so right now all I can say is, "Wow." If I can manage more of a response than that, there may be a review.
• Behind the Beautiful Forevers — examine Indian "slums" and poverty through the eyes of the residents of Annawadi (review)
  
• Tiny Beautiful Things — like a hug from a special friend (review)
  
• The Ocean at the End of the Lane — childhood in all its terrifying complexity (review)
  
• Salt Sugar Fat — it's no accident that you love a particular processed food, and this fascinating tome takes a look at how processed foods evolved in America
  
• Let the Great World Spin — the intersection of lives in the shadow of Philippe Petit's daring tightrope walk between the Twin Towers
  
• The Dinner — think you know where the story's going? Think again. (review)
• The Creeps — Return to Biddlecombe at Christmas to see how Samuel Johnson, Boswell, Nurd and a few other familiar characters battle the forces of evil (and a few scary elves)
• The Winter Sea and The Firebird (in that order) — fall in love with history, fiction and one or two independent spirits via these compelling tales 
  

I made a few bad matches, too. One that comes to mind is A Visit from the Goon Squad: I can't understand why it won so many awards when it could not make me care about the characters and tales. Another was Southern Gods, which despite its fascinating concept was way too gory for me. (That means it will be perfect for my husband, David, whose criteria for a good movie is, "Does anybody die?") I wasn't keen on Caleb's Crossing, but its sin was the wrong narrator who couldn't give me the intricacies of the story I really came to the novel to read. (It was as much about the narrator as it was the subject, a sort of bait-and-switch.)

I took a few detours down "juvenile fiction" lane. I'm a huge fan of Cynthia Rylant's Mr. Putter and Tabby series, who join Mrs. Teaberry and Zeke in more than their share of adventures. Neil Gaiman provided more than a few graphic novels or heavily illustrated stories, and I will forever love the father who good-naturedly traveled around town until his son retrieved him. The experiences of Miss Finch creeped me out, and I was able to re-read a few of my favorite animal tales recreated as graphic novels.

After disliking an iconic novel by Ursula K. LeGuin, we both were redeemed by her Catwing series.

My reading took me me to India, North Korea, Ireland, Scotland, England, Russia, Africa, the Netherlands and Hell. I've lived a different life every day, and lived multiple lives in time. I've been to hell, I've been dead, I've been nearly dead and I've known the right neighbors.

I made a summer reading list and promptly abandoned it. I haven't come to terms with the fact that I will not read everything, and maybe not even everything I want to read, but I'll keep trying. Just tonight I found three more books to read. I'll figure it out. Really.

Here is this year's reading list (probably not totally complete, considering I deleted the list by accident in September and had to recreate it from memory). Did you read any on this list? What are some of your year's reads you'd recommend? Tell me!

2013 Reading List

1. Dr. Sleep
2. Hershel and the Hanukkah Goblins
3. Caleb's Crossing
4. Mr. Putter and Tabby Clear the Decks
5. Mr. Putter and Tabby Stir the Soup 
6. The Poisonwood Bible
7. Mr. Putter and Tabby Make a Wish
8. Mr. Putter and Tabby Dance the Dance
9. Mr. Putter and Tabby Ring the Bell
10. Creatures of the Night
11. Crazy Hair
12. The Day I Swapped My Dad for Two Goldfish
13. The Arrival
14. Stitches
15. Selected Stories/Open Secrets — Alice Munro
16. The Bookman's Promise
17. Cat Versus Human
18. The Dinner
19. The Creeps 
20. The Vagina Monologues
21. The Seventeen Traditions
22. Humans of New York
23. Bossypants
24. The Winter Sea
25. Sh*t My Dad Says
26. Illusions
27. Ella Minnow Pea
28. Under New York  
29. The Firebird 
30. Catwings 
31. Catwings Return
32. Wonderful Alexander and the Catwings
33. Jane on Her Own: A Catwings Tale
34. Southern Gods
35. Unnatural Creatures
36. Dreamfever
37. Poe's Children
38. The Tarantula in My Purse and 172 Other Wild Pets
39. Salt Sugar Fat
40. The New Yorker Book of Cat Cartoons
41. The Charles Addams Mother Goose
42. If I Stay
43. Inferno
44. The Ocean at the End of the Lane
45. Let the Great World Spin
46. Smut
47. Next
48. Every Day
49. Life After Life
50. Up the Down Staircase
51. Will Write for Food
52. Social Media Marketing
53. Wishes Fulfilled
54. The Tao of Womanhood
55. The Complete Idiot's Guide to Taoism
56. The Winds of Marble Arch
57. An Outrageous Affair
58. The facts in the case of the departure of Miss Finch 
59.  The Dangerous Alphabet
60. Blueberry Girl
61. Notorious Nineteen
62. The Twelve Terrors of Christmas
63.  Frankenstein Makes a Sandwich
64.  M is for Magic
65.  Tiny Beautiful Things
66.  Hello, Goodbye, Hello
67.  The Round House
    
68.  A Visit from the Goon Squad
69.  The Lucky Gourd Shop
70.  Behind the Beautiful Forevers

Caleb's Crossing, Without Much of Caleb

Caleb's Crossing has been on my bookshelf for years. My friend Carole and I purchased it in 2011 as soon as we saw it for sale. Both she and I enjoyed Geraldine Brooks' books in the past. We have seen met her on previous book signing tours and enjoyed her other books.

And yet this one languished on our shelves for years.

After reading it, I can see why: it was not her best.

The story is of Caleb, a Native American Indian who lived on the island now known as Martha's Vineyard, who was the first of his tribe to graduate from Harvard University in 1665.

Well, not exactly. It's as much about the narrator, Bethia Mayfield, as the character named in the title. Bethia  is a teenage English girl who, remarkably, is a feminist of her age. She was smarter than her older brother, who was being educated to follow his father into the ministry, but was denied an education because of her sex. She chafed against her society's boundaries. One of her society's boundaries was a relationship with any American Indian on the island, with whom her settlement had an uneasy truce. She chose a relationship with a young male of the tribe, an added taboo.

Alas, Caleb's world was described by an outsider with no intimate knowledge of his culture. Indeed, she harbored many of the biases against Caleb's people as her own society did. The second-hand information, filtered through Bethia's eyes, dampened my enthusiasm for the novel. Never did we get Caleb's perspective, and Caleb's words were shared through Bethia, who was not a reliable narrator.

The novel is written as a personal journal kept by Bethia — often written days, months, even years after an event. Her details are complete, rich and full,  not at all like journal entries one would expect so long after the fact, and another reason for me to mistrust her as a narrator. References to historical events and characters were carefully shared to create a sense of connection to this colonial period. If you like colonial history, this might be a good book for you.

Bethia's character was a 21st century woman who every once in a while flashed a colonial, meeker face. The constant interjection of her religious beliefs in her writing and the use of colonial-period language didn't change that fact: she was not a girl of that age.

Finally, there was little urgency in the tale. Only once or twice did I rush through the story to discover the resolution of a situation.

I'm sorry to say I wouldn't recommend this book.

I can, however, recommend every other tome in Brooks' collection. Consider that, then read Caleb's Crossing, and tell me if you agree with my assessment.

On the Horizon: Miss Peregrine's Sequel

I'd ask if you remembered Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children, but that's a silly question. Heaven knows I couldn't forget it.

So imagine my delight when I saw this book trailer:

The sequel! Be still my heart!

Oh, don't worry: I pre-ordered it months ago. And I've checked my order twice, just to make sure.

Are you excited, too? What are you reading to get ready? And will you re-read the original in anticipation?

Poetry Wednesday: Feline Night Before Christmas

Thanks to Miss Liberty for this Christmas poem, in the spirit of Clement Clark3 Moore, that cat people can truly understand. 

Although I am featuring my ever-delightful Miss Ginger Galore, please visit  Miss Liberty's website to see her fun photo and read her poem in its natural habitat!

Twas the Night Before Christmas

Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house

The felines were chasing a toy catnip mouse.

The stalking began in the hall and from there

They managed to corner it under a chair.

I attempted to nestle all snug in my bed

But the kitties decided to dance on my head.

An idea it hit me, it came like a clap

And I sent them off chasing a Poland Springs cap.

When out in the kitchen there arose such a clatter

I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter.

Away down the hall I flew like a witch

I entered the kitchen and groped for the switch.

The moon on the breast of the white kitchen tile

Gave the luster of mid-day to the cats' chew toy pile.

When what to my wondering eyes did I see?

The remains of my poster of Angelina Jolie.

Without giving much thought or having to check

I knew in a moment it must be Steinbeck.

More rapid than eagles, his paws were such trouble

Adept at turning possessions into piles of rubble.

"You bastard! You monster! You rotten little cat!

I'll skin you alive and make you into a hat!"

To the top of the fridge! To the top of the desk!

The kitties took flight, away from the mess.

As dry leaves before the wild hurricane fly

When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky.

So out to the bedroom the felines they flew

"I'll get you, Millay, and your little son, too."

And then, in a twinkling, I heard in the hall,

The batting and pawing of each toy cat ball.

As I raged in my head, and was turning around,

Down the hallway the fur-beasts then came with a bound.

They were dressed all in fur, from their heads to their feet,

And they yelled out they still needed something to eat.

But a bowl full of food still sat on the floor

As I'd fed the two monsters a mere hour before.

Their eyes - they were wild! Their tails, how they twitched!

As they rubbed on my ankles and they moaned and they bitched.

Millay's droll little mouth was open like Jaws

And Steinbeck kept batting my knees with his paws.

They wouldn't listen as I explained I'd fed them before

Continuing to howl and to writhe on the floor.

So I got out the Friskies, and I got out the cup,

And gave them more food so they'd shut the f**k up.

Steinbeck mewed not a sound, but went straight to work

At filling his belly — the little fur-jerk.

Millay sniffed at the bowl, then with nose in the air,

Pretended no interest in what she found there.

"Eat the damn food, you rotten little cow!

I hope that you're happy — I'm wide awake now."

The clock, it read four — I thought I would weep.

I turned toward the bedroom, hoping for sleep.

"Merry Christmas, you monsters, with your cold little hearts.

I'm taking a nap - then I'll sell you for parts."

And I heard them exclaim as the two of them fled,

"Merry Christmas, dear human - your gift's under the bed."

—Poem by Miss Liberty

Mr. Putter and Tabby: They're Up to Something!

The other day, I wondered about some old friends — so I let the library help me reconnect with them.

These friends are Mr. Putter and Tabby, an adventuresome elderly gentleman and his older, charming cat. Author Cynthia Rylant teams up with illustrator Arthur Howard to share his unusual adventures with juvenile readers like me.

This couple of characters live next door to Mrs. Teaberry, the more adventurous of the two, and her good dog, Zeke. Usually it's Mrs. Teaberry who has the idea to try something different, and Mr. Putter is always in. However, when Mr. Putter has the idea — well, watch out!

I stumbled across these characters a few years ago, just by chance. Having a few tabbies in my life made me feel kin to Mr. Putter, and growing up with dogs made me appreciate Mrs. Teaberry. I had to find out what they could get up to in their silver years.

Plus, on a purely academic level, it's nice to remind children that older people aren't all dinosaurs — and that older pets can be good companions.

And the illustrations — well, see for yourself.

So, last night, Ginger and I read a few adventures. We have a few more waiting for us (thank you, Library!). It's always nice to see what these four can get up to, and they have yet to disappoint. Something as tame as tea can become a crazy day for them!

If ever you want a laugh, turn to Mr. Putter, Tabby, Mrs. Teaberry and Zeke.

Who are your favorite characters? What do you think of illustrated books?

Poetry Wednesday: Happy Birthday, Emily Dickinson

"Arcturus" is his other name

"Arcturus" is his other name—
I'd rather call him "Star."
It's very mean of Science
To go and interfere!

I slew a worm the other day—
A "Savant" passing by
Murmured "Resurgam"—"Centipede"!
"Oh Lord—how frail are we"!

I pull a flower from the woods—
A monster with a glass
Computes the stamens in a breath—
And has her in a "class"!

Whereas I took the Butterfly
Aforetime in my hat—
He sits erect in "Cabinets"—
The Clover bells forgot.

What once was "Heaven"
Is "Zenith" now—
Where I proposed to go
When Time's brief masquerade was done
Is mapped and charted too.

What if the poles should frisk about
And stand upon their heads!
I hope I'm ready for "the worst"—
Whatever prank betides!

Perhaps the "Kingdom of Heaven's" changed—
I hope the "Children" there Won't be "new fashioned" when I come—
And laugh at me—and stare—

I hope the Father in the skies
Will lift his little girl—
Old fashioned—naught—everything—
Over the stile of "Pearl."

— Emily Dickinson

Courtesy Poem Hunter

Christmas Reading: What's on Your List?

Readers are a sentimental lot who re-read when appropriate. I'm not a frequent re-reader, but I do have a few favorites I pull out at about this time of year. I also throw a few new ones into the mix every year, and sometimes they join the usual holiday suspects the next year.

First, my husband David and I re-read A Christmas Carol. We have a lovely reprint of the original, complete with drawings, that we read aloud (hopefully before Christmas Day). It was so important to us that we — okay, I — bought a second copy before the library was set up in our current home. If you've never read it, please pick it up today and read a few pages aloud. It's how Charles Dickens intended it to be experienced, and it sounds glorious.

Another favorite is Connie Willis' Miracle and Other Christmas Stories, which has an excellent mix of classic sci-fi and mystery — with a couple of surprises.

A new read I plan to pick up this season is Holidays on Ice. I want to see how David Sedaris views Christmas.

Enhance your joy of the season with The Stupidest Angel: A Heartwarming Tale of Christmas Terror by Christopher Moore. It will quickly become a holiday favorite. Imagine angels, death, confused boys, a former movie queen a la Xena, Warrior Princess and a dog experiencing Christmas in Pine Cove. Honestly, it's a hoot.

Consider a few other Christmas classics, like The Best Christmas Pageant Ever, which I picked up from the library for this very reason. 

Remember, books don't have to be long to be good: consider A Visit from St. Nicholas — known best by its first line, "'Twas the Night Before Christmas," which I read to my nieces and nephews when we were together for Christmas.  

How the Grinch Stole Christmas is a great tale to share with folks of all ages. (Please don't mention the live-action movie. Ever.)  

The Polar Express and A Child's Christmas in Wales also are great options.

There's Truman Capote's A Christmas Memory, a poignant memory that will stay with readers for long after the story ends.  

Skipping Christmas and Visions of Sugar Plums will transport you to unique ideas of the holidays and what the season really may mean. 

Learn more about Kris Kringle in The Autobiography of Santa Claus and take a trip back to another time.

Stop by your local library and let your librarian guide you through other interesting options. There's a lot of material out there about a fascinating, emotion-filled holiday.

What are you reading this season?

Poetry Wednesday: Thanksgiving

Thanksgiving
 

Later, after dinner, we examine your uncle’s photos

of trees, flowers, waterfalls, birds

until I just can’t stand it another second.

I am not at one with nature.  Never was.

Some of the people can be fooled all of the time,

even when you yawn right in their faces.

Guests, or ghosts, have taken over the house,

lounging in the living room, watching t.v.

Ugly images of war and politics are all I see.

Cancel the rest of the holidays, please, until this

knot can be untied and our hearts released.

-- Terence Winch

Courtesy Best American Poetry

Poetry Wednesday: The One Precious

The Dinner: The Minion Said It All

I remember the initial clamor over The Dinner. Radio hosts were gasping, "It's an incredible book!" So I picked it up — and found it tedious.

Then I did the only thing I could do: I gave it to my friend Carole, my Other Reading Self, to help me see if it was me or the book. When she handed it back, she said, "You have to give it another try."

Then I mentioned on Twitter that I was giving The Dinner another shot, Random House Canada told me this.

Now I tell you:

Paul and Claire meet Serge and Babette for dinner. What happens next: well, the minion said it all.

Books in translation often display a clumsy gait to me, especially books originally written in German or Germanic languages. (The Reader failed this reader before I even got to the pedophilia.) However, This translation was very smooth, allowing the undercurrent of the narrator's apparent awkwardness to knock the reader off-kilter.

And don't get sidetracked by the narrator's tangents. Don't try to make these threads weave into a familiar pattern. My mistake was that I thought the narrator was drawing me a road map. What I needed, instead, was to sit back and let the story do the driving.

Let me know when you read it. You'll need to talk. I'll be here.

Poetry Wednesday: The German Ward

The German Ward

When the years of strife are over and my
recollection fades
Of the wards wherein I worked the weeks
away,
I shall still see, as a visions rising 'mid the War-
time shades,
The ward in France where German wounded
lay.

I shall see the pallid faces and the half-sus-
picious eyes,
I shall hear the bitter groans and laboured
breath,
And recall the loud complaining and the weary
tedious cries,
And the sights and smells of blood and wounds
and death.

I shall see the convoy cases, blanket-covered
on the floor,
And watch the heavy stretcher-work begin,
And the gleam of knives and bottles through
the open theatre door,
And the operation patients carried in.

I shall see the Sister standing, with her form
of youthful grace,
And the humour and the wisdom of her
smile,
And the tale of three years' warfare on her thin
expressive face-
The weariness of many a toil-filled while.

I shall think of how I worked for her with
nerve and heart and mind,
And marvelled at her courage and her skill,
And how the dying enemy her tenderness
would find
Beneath her scornful energy of will.

And I learnt that human mercy turns alike to
friend or foe
When the darkest hour of all is creeping
nigh,
And those who slew our dearest, when their
lamps were burning low,
Found help and pity ere they came to die.

So, though much will be forgotton when the
sound of War's alarms
And the days of death and strife have passed
away,
I shall always see the vision of Love working
amidst arms
In the ward wherein the wounded prisoners
lay.

— Vera Brittain

courtesy First World War Poetry Digital Archive

Always Remember on Veterans Day

In Flanders Fields

In Flanders fields the poppies blow
      Between the crosses, row on row,
   That mark our place; and in the sky
   The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.
We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
   Loved and were loved, and now we lie,
         In Flanders fields.
Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
   The torch; be yours to hold it high.
   If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
         In Flanders fields.