Thursday, March 25, 2010
Minnesota Mystery Writer's New Novel Released This Month!
I just realized that Erin Hart finally published the third book in her series featuring Nora Gavin, an American forensic pathologist, and Cormac Maguire, an Irish archaeologist. They first joined up as crime-fighting teammates in a mystery all about a body preserved in a bog. Hart is a Minnesota author -- educated at St. Olaf and the U of M and married to Irish accordion player and local Twin Cities favorite Paddy O'Brien. It's been six years since the last book was released, so I'm excited to see that she's decided to continue the series!
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
Reading in Public
I'm a periodic follower of People Reading, a blog that features pictures of people reading in public spaces and brief interviews to find out what they're reading and why. It seems to have sparked an interest worldwide -- the original blogger is based in San Francisco, but fans of hers have started similar projects in a variety of other locales.
It got me thinking: are you careful about what you read in front of other people? I actually don't do much reading outside of the privacy of my own home, though (as I've reported before) I frequently listen to books when I'm out and about. I always bring books with me on plane rides, though now that I'm back within driving distance of my parents I go to the airport less and less. I do remember sitting next to an elderly woman on one trip and wondering if she was noticing any of the "scandalous" language in my book (Ian McEwan, if I my memory serves me right -- so how bad could it have been?). She probably couldn't even see the print from where she was sitting...
And I definitely skip over certain articles in fashion and celebrity news magazines when I'm at the salon just in case someone from work happens to sit down next to me under the hair dryers.
I wonder how many people edit their reading material for public consumption -- either to avoid strange looks or maybe to elicit them, depending on their purpose. Or maybe these are just my own neurotic tendencies rearing their ugly heads?
It got me thinking: are you careful about what you read in front of other people? I actually don't do much reading outside of the privacy of my own home, though (as I've reported before) I frequently listen to books when I'm out and about. I always bring books with me on plane rides, though now that I'm back within driving distance of my parents I go to the airport less and less. I do remember sitting next to an elderly woman on one trip and wondering if she was noticing any of the "scandalous" language in my book (Ian McEwan, if I my memory serves me right -- so how bad could it have been?). She probably couldn't even see the print from where she was sitting...
And I definitely skip over certain articles in fashion and celebrity news magazines when I'm at the salon just in case someone from work happens to sit down next to me under the hair dryers.
I wonder how many people edit their reading material for public consumption -- either to avoid strange looks or maybe to elicit them, depending on their purpose. Or maybe these are just my own neurotic tendencies rearing their ugly heads?
Saturday, March 20, 2010
A Conspiracy of Paper -- David Liss
Top five reasons why David Liss's A Conspiracy of Paper should be bumped to the top of your reading list:
5. You've never read anything like it. The novel mixes economics, cultural anthropology, and a little game theory with murder, fraud, scandal, and a bit of slapstick humor and romance thrown in for good measure. Time referred to A Conspiracy of Paper as a "genre-stretching first novel" and author Sheri Holman called it a "historical financial thriller" -- I can't come up with any better way to put it than they did.
4. You'll feel smart reading it. The author was working on his dissertation at the time he wrote this, his first novel, and the book feels like it was researched with the utmost care. It's set in the 18th century, and Liss was so concerned with accuracy to the time period that the narration itself (word choice, phrasing, pace) feels as if it is from that era. Even though it is, at its core, a mystery novel, you won't feel guilty about reading this rather than a more "serious" book.
3. The characters are real. Benjamin Weaver is a Jewish ex-boxer (or, in 18th century parlance, ex-pugilist) who now works as a private investigator. Though he may be the protagonist in a work of fiction, he's based on a real person -- as is Jonathan Wild, and many of the other colorful figures Liss includes in his novel.
2. You'll never think of London the same way again. The two times I've been to London, I adored it -- the history, the culture, the general atmosphere. The London of A Conspiracy of Paper is another world entirely: streets flowing with filth, criminals lurking in every dark alley, bribes as a way of life. Your appreciation for picture-postcard grounds of Hyde Park will suddenly take on a new meaning once you've read about what it used to be like to walk around London at the time of this story.
1. The current financial crisis will make a lot more sense to you once you see its beginnings. Liss's novel details the events surrounding the first stock market crash in the English-speaking world: the South Seas Bubble of 1720. True, there were a few times when the narration got a bit heavy on the educational lecture side of things. But you'll understand the meaning of the greenbacks -- and plastic -- in your wallet differently as a result.
Final Verdict: ****
5. You've never read anything like it. The novel mixes economics, cultural anthropology, and a little game theory with murder, fraud, scandal, and a bit of slapstick humor and romance thrown in for good measure. Time referred to A Conspiracy of Paper as a "genre-stretching first novel" and author Sheri Holman called it a "historical financial thriller" -- I can't come up with any better way to put it than they did.
4. You'll feel smart reading it. The author was working on his dissertation at the time he wrote this, his first novel, and the book feels like it was researched with the utmost care. It's set in the 18th century, and Liss was so concerned with accuracy to the time period that the narration itself (word choice, phrasing, pace) feels as if it is from that era. Even though it is, at its core, a mystery novel, you won't feel guilty about reading this rather than a more "serious" book.
3. The characters are real. Benjamin Weaver is a Jewish ex-boxer (or, in 18th century parlance, ex-pugilist) who now works as a private investigator. Though he may be the protagonist in a work of fiction, he's based on a real person -- as is Jonathan Wild, and many of the other colorful figures Liss includes in his novel.
2. You'll never think of London the same way again. The two times I've been to London, I adored it -- the history, the culture, the general atmosphere. The London of A Conspiracy of Paper is another world entirely: streets flowing with filth, criminals lurking in every dark alley, bribes as a way of life. Your appreciation for picture-postcard grounds of Hyde Park will suddenly take on a new meaning once you've read about what it used to be like to walk around London at the time of this story.
1. The current financial crisis will make a lot more sense to you once you see its beginnings. Liss's novel details the events surrounding the first stock market crash in the English-speaking world: the South Seas Bubble of 1720. True, there were a few times when the narration got a bit heavy on the educational lecture side of things. But you'll understand the meaning of the greenbacks -- and plastic -- in your wallet differently as a result.
Final Verdict: ****
Monday, March 1, 2010
An Unwilling Suspension of Disbelief
Spoiler alert! If you haven't finished reading any of the following titles, you may want to skip reading this posting (on the other hand, this might be a good way for you to catch up on some recent fiction you missed): The Time Traveler's Wife, The Lovely Bones, Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban
I recently finished reading Audrey Niffenegger's second novel, Her Fearful Symmetry. (I know, I know -- my lukewarm feelings towards her first book should probably have steered me clear. But it was 50% off at Barnes and Noble, and I was in need of reading material. I get anxious when I don't have something to read before bed!) I actually really loved the way the book was written; the descriptions of London and the Highgate Cemetery were captivating and made me wish I could take another trip across the pond to see it all.
However...I was once again underwhelmed by the plot, and I'm worried that I'm starting to seem like someone who hates science fiction. Time travel? Body swapping? It makes me go cold. But the more I think about it, the more I realize that my problem is with writers who use science fiction or fantasy plot devices outside the context of a sci-fi/fantasy world.
Here's the deal: in the book The Lovely Bones, I was completely willing to buy into the premise. Girl dies, but can still see and almost interact with her family from the "beyond"? Fine, no problem. But then she somehow inserts her otherworldly spirit into the physical body of a still-living person while that person's spirit moves into her place in limbo, or wherever she's supposed to be? It comes out of left field. We aren't given any warning that this is part of what we're in for in the world Sebold has constructed.
The Time Traveler's Wife is another example. The premise of the book is that Henry cannot do anything in his time travels that has any profound effect on the outcome of his life. Okay, fine. But then why can he travel into the future to find out winning lottery numbers in order to go back and then use those numbers to win? And if he can do this, why isn't he able to do anything about that terrible night in the parking garage, like go to the future and leave himself a blanket or clothes?
I've never read the book, but the 3rd Harry Potter film frustrated me in the same way. Obviously we suspend our disbelief to immerse ourselves in the world of Hogwart's. But suddenly Harry, Hermione, and Ron find themselves in a pickle they can't solve...and suddenly they are able to travel through time. Poof! Crisis averted!
My issue with all of these is the use of sci-fi/fantasy tropes in order to bring about a plot resolution, whether large or small, in such a way that it feels like the author is playing a trick on readers. I don't mind being whisked out of my reality and into a world where things work differently than they do here -- but I do mind when I feel like Dorothy talking to the man behind the curtain. The cards need to be on the table from the beginning. When the rug is pulled out from under me while I'm reading, I can no longer trust the author, and then my willing suspension of disbelief suddenly becomes coercion.
In a true science fiction or fantasy novel, though, the author is not a magician, and there are no tricks hidden in his sleeves. (That's the last trite metaphor, I promise.) The constructs of the world inside the book are as vital as the plot. To suddenly change those constructs in order to bring about a desirable event would be to admit defeat as a writer -- to have not planned well enough or thought everything through carefully enough.
My conclusion? I should probably give in and start reading some Heinlein. It certainly can't be any worse!
I recently finished reading Audrey Niffenegger's second novel, Her Fearful Symmetry. (I know, I know -- my lukewarm feelings towards her first book should probably have steered me clear. But it was 50% off at Barnes and Noble, and I was in need of reading material. I get anxious when I don't have something to read before bed!) I actually really loved the way the book was written; the descriptions of London and the Highgate Cemetery were captivating and made me wish I could take another trip across the pond to see it all.
However...I was once again underwhelmed by the plot, and I'm worried that I'm starting to seem like someone who hates science fiction. Time travel? Body swapping? It makes me go cold. But the more I think about it, the more I realize that my problem is with writers who use science fiction or fantasy plot devices outside the context of a sci-fi/fantasy world.
Here's the deal: in the book The Lovely Bones, I was completely willing to buy into the premise. Girl dies, but can still see and almost interact with her family from the "beyond"? Fine, no problem. But then she somehow inserts her otherworldly spirit into the physical body of a still-living person while that person's spirit moves into her place in limbo, or wherever she's supposed to be? It comes out of left field. We aren't given any warning that this is part of what we're in for in the world Sebold has constructed.
The Time Traveler's Wife is another example. The premise of the book is that Henry cannot do anything in his time travels that has any profound effect on the outcome of his life. Okay, fine. But then why can he travel into the future to find out winning lottery numbers in order to go back and then use those numbers to win? And if he can do this, why isn't he able to do anything about that terrible night in the parking garage, like go to the future and leave himself a blanket or clothes?
I've never read the book, but the 3rd Harry Potter film frustrated me in the same way. Obviously we suspend our disbelief to immerse ourselves in the world of Hogwart's. But suddenly Harry, Hermione, and Ron find themselves in a pickle they can't solve...and suddenly they are able to travel through time. Poof! Crisis averted!
My issue with all of these is the use of sci-fi/fantasy tropes in order to bring about a plot resolution, whether large or small, in such a way that it feels like the author is playing a trick on readers. I don't mind being whisked out of my reality and into a world where things work differently than they do here -- but I do mind when I feel like Dorothy talking to the man behind the curtain. The cards need to be on the table from the beginning. When the rug is pulled out from under me while I'm reading, I can no longer trust the author, and then my willing suspension of disbelief suddenly becomes coercion.
In a true science fiction or fantasy novel, though, the author is not a magician, and there are no tricks hidden in his sleeves. (That's the last trite metaphor, I promise.) The constructs of the world inside the book are as vital as the plot. To suddenly change those constructs in order to bring about a desirable event would be to admit defeat as a writer -- to have not planned well enough or thought everything through carefully enough.
My conclusion? I should probably give in and start reading some Heinlein. It certainly can't be any worse!