Chapter 29: A Book of Short Stories

Fictitious Dishes, Dinah Fried

Technically not a collection of short stories, this book still belongs somewhere on the list. I received a copy for my birthday last month. It is so me! It's paragraphs from famous novels, plus design and photography, plus a list of facts pertaining to the food, the novel, or otherwise related to the selection.

Charlie enjoyed going through the pages to see if I had read all the books mentioned in Dishes. Apparently I need to add some to my list. It was fun to see how many were captured well enough to know the title before seeing it.

You won't get in depth in any of the stories, but if you enjoy food writing, this one might just capture enough of your imagination to make it worth perusing. I'm keeping it out so visitors can drop in on Melville and Alcott and McCloskey. Ms. Fried has certainly crafted a conversation starter, earning her 4.5 Mariass (only losing half a Maria because so little text is original).

   

Chapter 28: A Book More Than 100 Years Old

Jane Eyre, Charlotte Bronte

Dear Reader, it took me a month to get through the nearly 500 pages of this one. I am a little embarrassed to admit that I went this long without reading a Bronte, but now I am free of that burden. I have so many thoughts about Jane, I'm not even sure where to begin. I'll give it a stab, though.

First, in today's world, this would not be a passionate love story. Mr. Rochester is kind of a jerk. Besides the fact that he comments frequently on his superiority, he threatens Jane with violence. Oh, and he locked his inconvenient wife in the attic, where she has to witness his wooing of two different women. No wonder she wants to burn him alive. In today's world, Jane would give him the heave-ho and find her own bliss- with or without a husband.

But the story doesn't take place today. It takes place in a time when women were expected to defer to the nearest available man, to not think, just do. And Jane is an unexpected woman. She has her own, steadfast moral compass. She is witty and challenges men who are unaccustomed to that. I daresay that her cousin, St. John, does love her in a way she does not see. Maybe not in a physical attraction, but she stirs something in him that is quite like love. He asks her multiple times to be his helpmeet, which, to me, says he sees her as a partner- a pretty important factor in love.

So, I couldn't get swept away in the romance like so many others. (I swear, my mother-in-law gets a little dizzy imagining Rochester and Jane.) But I can see how this work is so revolutionary. Not only were women not published back then, but female characters were not to have their own ideas about the world.

Other things I love about Jane- she doesn't go through the she-was-always-pretty-and-never-realized-it transformation. I love that she finds a way to flourish in any environment. I love that she is willing to do something very painful because it is right. I love that she is also willing to believe in the supernatural enough to make an ill-planned journey, to chase a dream. She's also book smart and caring and matter-of-fact. And her wit! The men in her life love the way she turns a phrase. She's the ultimate at playing hard to get.

I've read a few reviews of another book from the perspective of the first Mrs. Rochester. Probably won't pick it up any time soon, but she is the reason I started this one. The Wolf Man in Chapter 20's selection loves Jane Eyre because he sympathizes with the locked away Bertha. I'm not sure there is enough material in the original to make her sympathetic- she's basically an insane specter that sets things on fire. But you do have to at least acknowledge that she is aware of Mr. Rochester's affection for Jane and see how troubling that would be for a sane person, much less an already disturbed mind.

I would love for the red room story to be more developed, to know more about the haunting of the Reed's manor. It has the makings of a great tale. Maybe there is a short story exercise in that for me. Afterall, it is almost Halloween.

So, remembering to keep it all in context, Jane Eyre earns 3.5 Marias. I won't be buying a copy or reading it again, but I also don't feel like setting anything on fire.

Chapter 27: A Book Set in High School

An Abundance of Katherines, John Green

Taking a little liberty since the majority of this novel takes place during the summer after high school graduation, I think this one still counts for this category. I know lots of adults who love Green's The Fault In Our Stars, and Katherines looked interesting for a weekend on the road, so I checked it out from the library while I take a break from a more difficult novel.

Katherines is about a former child prodigy, Colin Singleton, after he has been dumped for the 19th time by a girl named Katherine. Heartbroken and searching for The Meaning of His Life, he chooses the all-American option and hits the road with his best friend, Hassan, a Judge Judy loving fat kid who isn't concerned with such philosophical quandaries. Meanwhile Colin is also trying to perfect an mathematical formula to express and predict the arc of every romantic relationship, using his string of Katherines as his data pool. This equation will propel him to genius status and make him matter.

Interstate 65 leads the duo to Gutshot, TN and the grave of Archduke Franz Ferdinand. Thus begins the coming-of-age story, complete with adventure, romance, and a moral.

While I didn't love this book, I am surprised by the number of people who flat out hate it. While Colin is a bit of a whiner, he's also a nerdy teenager with a broken heart. So I expect him to be self-absorbed and pathetic. His sidekick, Hassan, is hilarious. He loves Judge Judy and institutes a policy of saying "dingleberries" when Colin brings up another annoying reminder that he hasn't enrolled in college. Dingleberries. Dude, that's funny. He also alerts Colin when he goes off on an uninteresting tangent. We all could use a friend like Hassan, who can love us even when we're are boring, self-absorbed weirdos.

The arc of Katherines is a predictable teenage story of finding oneself and getting the girl, but it was still a good story. The citizens of Gutshot, the tangential footnotes, and the love of Hardee's Monster Thickburgers made this one enjoyable. Unlike many YA novels, there's (almost) no sex, no drug abuse, and very little drinking. It was refreshing and still realistic, and the only apocalypse is that of being dumped. Again.

Overall, I think Katherines does a good job of capturing the Dumpee experience and tells a good story of what matters. I probably won't read it again and will return it to the library. But I would not hesitate to recommend it for some light reading to people who don't easily tire of quirks like anagramming (a skill I do not have and find fascinating). An Abundance of Katherines earns 3 Marias.

Chapter 26: A Book From Your Childhood

A Wrinkle in Time, Madeleine L'Engle

First, sorry for the crappy image, but this is the cover of my copy and nothing else will do.

I seriously cannot believe this novel only gets 4.04 stars on Goodreads. It is one of my all-time favoritest books of forever. I'm not even exaggerating. Let me tell you why.

Meg is, like, the best girl hero every imagined. (Yes, I went Valley Girl on that.) She is the quintessential awkward tween girl without the pack of friends to make those years bearable. And let's face it, those years suck, even when they don't. She doesn't go through some physical transformation that turns her ugly duckling into a beautiful swan. What she does is realize, on her own, that her character alone is what is going to get her family back together after an intergalactic error. And when I say that, I don't mean that Meg alone is what is going to do it, I mean a vital and unchangeable portion of the very essence of Meg is what does. (This would be a lot easier to talk about if I was ok giving spoilers, but I really want you to read this book. And if you already have, I want you to read it again.)

That's pretty much it. Meg rules. There are other good things about the story, including the moment when Meg declares, "Like and equal are not the same thing at all." But her grrrl power just overshadows everything else I could say. Every time I read this one, I pick up on something new or something I have forgotten. And I'm sad to say that I have not read the whole series. I promise myself I will rectify that error as soon as this challenge is over. I'm really looking forward to A Swiftly Tilting Planet because it is beloved by a friend whose judgement in these things I really value.

One interesting thing that I did not pick up on in the past, perhaps because I didn't think about the subject often, is that it's possible that L'Engle was writing about a family with Autism in the early 1960's. Let that sink in a minute. Now consider- both parents are brilliant, as is Charles Wallace. But they aren't just smart. They think in such unusual ways that they are able to understand the inexplicable. I could be way off on this one. Maybe she was elevating them to more enlightened creatures and I misinterpreted. It could happen. But maybe these two things are not mutually exclusive and she tapped into something that didn't enter common conversation for four more decades. I can't wait to see what else she has in store for me.

Wrinkle joins Mockingbird on my forever bookshelf to which I will return again and again. Meg alone earns 4.75 of its 5 Marias. Seriously, I love this girl.

Chapter 25: A Pulitzer Prize Winner

To Kill a Mockingbird, Harper Lee

Are you shocked? Floored? Flummoxed? Bamboozled? I didn't think so. There's no way I could read Watchman and not re-re-re-re-read Mockingbird. And, as I also re-watch Pretty Little Liars now that the show has revealed who A is, I realize the Liars are reading Mockingbird for English class. So Liars gets a little more credit from me (the mental hospital is named Radley, too, but I had not forgotten that fact).

So, Mockingbird is required reading in high schools across the country, with good reason. It opens the door for Humanities teachers to discuss racial history in the U.S., introduces students to an influential female writer, and gives an accessible account of southern life during the Depression. All of that is great, but it's not why I love this story. When it comes down to it, I love Scout. She's precocious, obnoxious, naive, and wise. She's brash, unruly, unladylike, and charming. She is, in short, a little girl.

Now that Mockingbird is fresh in my memory, the conflict of Watchman is actually pretty predictable and is totally fitting with the characters. We love the Atticus of Mockingbird for many of the same reasons we (the readers and Jean Louise) feel betrayed by him three decades later. It's funny how much the era of the story affects how we feel about the exact same behaviors. In the 30's, he was a leader, a champion, worthy of our adoration. In the 60's the same kind of ideas land him firmly in inexcusable territory. This, of course, is indicative of how fast things changed in this country during those decades, but also how we are willing to overlook things we don't like (paternalism, pity) if our hero does something great (defending a black man against accusations made by whites). This idea still holds true today. How much bad are we willing to ignore if the overall result is good? What is the tipping point at which we change our opinion of a person or organization?

While I think this is all important stuff to think about and discuss and question, it's not the root of why I love this book so much. In fact, it's peripheral to the heart of the novel, in part because a nine-year-old doesn't really grasp the implications of the case her father is working. Scout just takes the world at face value. She believes what her important adults (Atticus, Calpurnia, and Miss Maudie) tell her and suspects everyone else of falsehood. She is quick to defend those whom she loves and has a strong sense of fair, even if it is flawed. Her father has taught her important truths she won't learn anywhere else, namely that all people, even those we deem beneath us, have dignity and deserve if not our respect, then their privacy. It seems to me that this is a dangerous lesson, minding your own business to the detriment of your fellow humans. He starts out with a grand idea but let's it fizzle out in the details.

Scout, however, just applies her lessons to everything. She doesn't see the subtleties of the class divisions in her community because she believes that people are people. She knows they exist, that certain families just have their ways, but she is pragmatic and doesn't judge those other ways. This lovable little tomboy teaches (and learns) more about community than many give her credit for. Often readers feel like they are with her in Atticus' lap, that they learn alongside her. But in my estimation, Scout Finch is the true hero of the tale.

Even though it is set in the 1930's, Mockingbird still is relevant today. One paragraph stood out to me, speaking volumes about how quickly and easily we dehumanize each other. After confronting a group of men who set out to harm the black man accused of raping a white woman, Atticus tells his son, "A mob's always made up of people, no matter what ... a gang of wild animals can be stopped, simply because they're still human. Hmp, maybe we need a police force of children ..." Our failure to see others as humans is easy and enormous. Instead of images of five Marias, I'll leave you with these three images of humanity during conflict. (And, I'd like to just say that it is crazy to me that Sen. Pugh was criticized for hugging a rioter. What she did was not condoning actions but saying, "I see you, I hear you, I acknowledge that you are a person.")

Chapter 24: A Mystery or Thriller

The Girl On the Train, Paula Hawkins

I was hesitant to start this one because I've been burned by Girl books (see previous post about my The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo surprise). I also really, really hated Gone Girl. Why does Gillian Flynn hate romance so much? I hated every character of every one of her books, which probably means they are good books if I am still so emotional about them. But, anyway, I gave another Girl book a try. It will be hard not to fill my review with a bunch of cliches, but I will do my best.

My guess is that published reviews include words like taut, tense, and shocking. That's a little grandiose for this novel, but it doesn't miss the mark by too much. The pace manages to move quickly enough to build tension while also detailing boring daily events. It has a nice upward curve toward the final conflict, with little crests along the way. At times it is written with the frenetic energy of an obsessed alcoholic on a bender. At others, the calm deliberation of the same alcoholic during a brief period of sobriety. And scattered throughout these journals are the perspective of the assumed victim and The Other Woman.

Rachel is the obsessed, out-of-control alcoholic who witnesses something from the train. When she reads news that a woman she has seen through that window for years has disappeared, her mission becomes to help solve the case. The problem is, her ex-husband and his new wife live a few doors down and they do not have an amicable relationship. These three women's lives get tangled up with the two husbands, past and present lovers, and secrets that everyone hides. (Trigger warning- infertility and infant death play major roles in this book.) Normally I don't like switching of narrators and time too much, but even ignoring the dates, I was able to keep a good grasp on where and when I was reading.

As I was reading, I kept trying to decide if it would be possible to make into a movie. The whole thing feels very Hitchcock. I knew there was a big twist that I wasn't supposed to see coming, so I prepared for everything. I was not floored by the revelation. Not even all that surprised. But it is still a good twist. I stayed up late to finish it and find out just what the heck happened to everyone. A little bit of Hitchcock trivia for you- the phrase "this is where I came in" referred to movies until Psycho was released. Films ran on a loop with no starting time. So you paid for your seat and walked in somewhere in the plot and left when you got back to that point. Hitchcock changed all that because it was so important to him that every detail of Psycho be seen from beginning to end. He ordered no admissions after the opening credits and changed the way we watch movies forever.

So, back to Train. It plays very heavily on the unreliable narrator thing. Rachel is very close to the bottom of a downward spiral and often admits that her memory is full of holes. The police question her involvement and do not take her seriously. Her peers vacillate  between pity and disgust for her. She makes one bad decision after another. Yet you cannot help but feel that some part of her drive is genuine. Near the end, one of the leading women says, "There's nothing so painful, so corrosive, as suspicion." That sums the whole novel up quite nicely.

I enjoyed this one and will gladly pass it on to another reader. It won't stay on my shelf for long and I probably won't read it again. But it was a fun ride, so I give it three Marias.

Chapter 23: A Book At the Bottom of Your To Read List

A Stolen Life, Jaycee Dugard

I have always been fascinated with crime and what drives people to it. I read every Ann Rule book I could get my hands on. I considered becoming a criminal psychologist. I studied serial killers and bizarre offenses. I watched made-for-tv movies, and Nancy McKeon's portrayal of Tracey Thurman left a lasting impression on me. Farrah Fawcette? Burn it down, girlfriend! The movie about how M.A.D.D. got started really fired up the J of my Myers-Briggs personality (plus I took it personally that the girl killed by a drunk driver was named Cari, too close to my own sister, Kerry). I can't help it. It's who I am. But most true-crime writing tends to be salacious, almost pornographic, and this one is neither.

People think they want to know all the details of a big crime. Tabloids feed us lines about what Scott Peterson ate for dinner or how many bars Casey Anthony went to. Those tidbits make us feel like we really know what happened, but they can also cheapen a story. That's where A Stolen Life is different. Dugard, as the victim and survivor of kidnapping, rape, and a handful of other crimes can actually tell us what happened, why she didn't escape, how she felt, what she thought. Unlike The Girl In the Box, which I read in middle school, this is an honest account of actual events. Sharing memories, journal entries, and reflections on events, Dugard draws a picture of what her life was like for 18 years behind a fence.

One of the most interesting things about the case is that Dugard was allowed to go out eventually, and even had contact with law enforcement, but never revealed she was held against her will. Most people are familiar with the idea of Stockholm Syndrome, but it is still hard to understand. In context, it was normal for her to comply, blend in, and do what was expected of her. We'd like to think we would make a break for it, to run and scream and escape. Understanding why someone wouldn't is very interesting material.

I'm not sure if I've mentioned here why I am doing this challenge. Besides just liking books and wanting to expand my horizons, I have a few books I would like to write. I am reading to be a better writer. One of these stories is the true story of a horrific crime that went unsolved in my hometown for 20 years. I have not approached the family about it yet because I want to have some text for them to read first. But one thing Stolen has helped me with is the assurance that a crime story can be told that honors the privacy of all the victims and still tells the tale. And, perhaps more importantly, you can do all this and still explain things that seem odd to outsiders- which I feel is very important in the case of my hometown. Context is everything. I want to honor the victim and her loved ones in a way that is rarely seen. So, I'm going to keep this one around to come back to as I pen that story.

It's obvious that Dugard wrote her memoir as part of her post-abduction therapy. At times it is very childish or naive, as one would expect from a girl kidnapped at age 11. It can feel a little schmaltzy at times, too, but not in an off-putting way. Jaycee Dugard is nothing if not honest. This look into her life was both compelling and enlightening, and nothing like the pulp content I used to devour.

Rating this one is difficult. It's been six years since Jaycee's recovery dominated headlines. Without all that attention and fervor, it is easy to be critical of the writing. At the same time, this is penned by a woman with a fifth-grade education, who was closed off from the world for more than half her life, and she still managed to publish something readable. If you are looking for juicy recollections of wild drug and sex binges, this isn't the book for you. If you are interested in gaining perspective on the inner workings of a victim and survivor, this is better than any case study you can find. And because I intend to come back to it for my own writing, a sort of touchstone, I am going to give it four Marias.

Chapter 22: A Book Published This Year

Go Set A Watchman, Harper Lee

You can't possibly be surprised that the most anticipated novel of the year is my selection for this category. Normally I try to keep my posts to the actual book, but there is no way to discuss this one without including a number of other issues. I'll try my best not to give away the plot beyond what is necessary.

First, the legal controversy. I was wary of purchasing Watchman because of the allegations of elder abuse. So I turned to facebook, specifically friends who I trust in important matters of southern writing, and not only agreed that the evidence of abuse was lacking but that Ms. Lee had a much more personal reason for holding back on this particular piece. The real Scout still has that compassion she learned in Atticus' lap decades ago.

Next, the writing. Watchman was rightfully rejected by Lee's publisher not because the story is bad but because it is immature. Understanding and loving Scout and Atticus of To Kill A Mockingbird makes Watchman a very different novel indeed. And, if you are like me, you grew up loving Scout like a sister. Atticus was the kindly neighbor who taught the whole community with his placid ways. But Jean Louise, as an adult, has a lot of growing up still to do. Without fully knowing her upbringing, she would come across as hysterical and dramatic- not that the situation doesn't warrant some histrionics, but the context of her childhood makes her wild reaction more sympathetic.

Now it would be unjust to discuss this novel without also talking about race and racism in America. I can be clumsy in these talks, so please have mercy and bear with me. Though set in the 1950's, the book could still be set today. In the wake of many headline-making stories of racism, "look how far we've come" seems to be not very far. Maybe we are not talking in productive ways. Is it possible for a person to be good and also be racist? Can a white, especially a southern white, speak against racism without being paternalistic? (This is one of those areas where I get very clumsy because, surprise! I don't know what it's like to be black in America. I know stories. I know what I witness, but that is not the same. Whenever a major event occurs and we as a nation talk about race in some new context, I  defer to someone with experience that I cannot possibly have. Sometimes that makes me really uncomfortable because I am faced with my own prejudice, but I am a seeker of knowledge. /tangent) Is it possible for a kinder, gentler style racist to move beyond that? Or is the psychic pain just too much to bear?

Some other things that this book has me thinking about- the tangled relationship between law and social change. Am I a Scout? Or am I an Atticus? Do the ends justify the means? Whose responsibility is it to help adults grow? Is there such thing as collective consciousness? I don't know the answer to any of these questions. I have ideas and I have a willingness to listen to other people's ideas on the subject, too.

So, aside from the racism, Lee really hits on some other things that I think have been overlooked by many because they are small in comparison. But I feel like she did a wonderful job of capturing what is now called the quarter-life crisis. Jean Louise has graduated college, is living on her own far from her home and just now really having to define herself as an individual. I'll be honest, I was so glad to get out of my 20's! There was so much turmoil and drama. I understand Jean Louise's wild reactions because I felt so passionately, too. But time has mellowed me some and maybe it will her. It does make me wonder if Atticus was ever so fiery, but we will probably never know.

The other thing illustrated beautifully in Watchman that lives in the shadow of Atticus' fall from grace is related to that fall and to Jean Louise's age. Scout left home. She returns annually as if it is a duty. She detests much of Maycomb, yet loves it, too. In all of her struggle, she fails to see how very much like her father she is, even when she thinks she hates him. The old adage "There's something about that guy I just don't like about myself" is spot on in this case. I'm not sure if Jean Louise ever comes to that conclusion. Honestly, I'm not sure what becomes of her. But the glimpse into her life as a young adult was interesting and thought-provoking.

Go Set A Watchman earns three and a half Maria's. It's not the best written work. On its own, it isn't even that compelling a story. But the context- that changes everything. For me, it's more an epilogue of Mockingbird than its own tale. I'd like to note that even if it isn't the best book published this year, it still belongs on the shelf with important literature. It still should be read. It is still relevant 60 years later. And, perhaps, as we undergo yet another Reconstruction (and future ones, too), we can learn something from Maycomb.

Chapter 21: A Book With Nonhuman Characters

The Ocean at the End of the Lane, Neil Gaiman

You might have picked up that I don't read reviews or even dust jackets when selecting books. This was one of those. I had a few hours to spend at a bookstore, so I selected a large stack of interesting looking titles and began on page one. If, by page three I was still interested, I bought it. I spent a lot of money that day. Ocean, written by the same man who gave us Coraline, the creepiest kid movie ever, was definitely a good choice. Had I realized it was the same guy, I might not have picked it up. Teri Hatcher's voice still gives me the heebie-jeebies, and every time I see a LaLaLoopsy doll with button eyes I shiver. So I'm glad I didn't read the flap.

It's hard to describe this short novel without either giving away too much or relegating the fantasy to normal, boring, earthbound language. It reminded me of A Wrinkle In Time, one of my all-time favorite stories but is still very different. Gaiman crafted a fast-paced, character driven novel with immense creativity and enough magic to believe it might all be true. It's gross and engrossing, terribly tragic, and somehow still a children's story on some level. I would not let my seven year old read it just yet, but I will probably introduce him to it after her reads Wrinkle.

There is nothing here for me to critique. When you pull off an entire novel in 178 pages, without leaving a bunch of unresolved threads, you've managed a bit of magic for real. It's neither a short story with fluff padding it, nor a novel with chunks missing. It is, instead, a perfectly satisfactory piece of writing that I am pleased to give four Marias.

Chapter 20: A Book By an Author With Your Initials

The Museum of Extraordinary Things, Alice Hoffman

I am sure reviews of this book include descriptions like poetic and lyrical; it certainly aspires to those things. But this piece seems to have a bit of an identity crisis. Is it mystery? Is it historical fiction in which the time and location become characters themselves? Is it character-driven literary fiction? Well, it just kind of falls short of all of these. The result is readable but not memorable.

As a mystery, a glimpse at the cover art is enough to know what the menacing Professor has planned. The other surprises revealed near the end are likewise predictable even if not foreshadowed. Luckily for Ms. Hoffman, I doubt she was aiming for a shocking plot twist.

As historical fiction, Museum does a fair job of embracing the genre. Hoffman's lifelong experience in the boroughs shows in the life she breathes into the city. But the spirit of the era- both the tension in the workplace and the exhilaration of attractions- don't take form even though they are referenced often. Of course there is talk of unions and Tammany Hall corruption, but it doesn't coalesce into a character, which I think of as a very important aspect of historical fiction. In this context, I enjoyed Burning Girls more.

If Hoffman's goal is literary fiction, this is the closest she got to her goal. The plot relies heavily on a few bursts of action amid the inner thoughts of the main characters. However the characters don't really move the story along. It almost happens in spite of their efforts, in which case Fate should be the main character. I enjoyed following the threads that would eventually bring these two together, but at times felt bogged down by the shifts in perspective and time. The third person narratives move the story along better than the first person flashbacks.

And about those flashbacks- the font for entire chapters is painful! I don't know what professional selected this italicized font, but it is tiring. I can support the decision of a different typeface for different times, threads, or narrators, but for the love of mis ojos, please make it readable. The kerning is a little loose for so many lines and there are too many flourishes.

I do like the story of Coralie and Eddie and their peers. I braced myself for tragedies that never occurred and I cringed at ones that did. There is little moral ambiguity among the characters. The bad guys are really bad, the good guys are only a little bad. Except for the heavy handedness of the water and fire imagery and symbolism, the story is good even when the telling is not. Overall, I give Museum three Marias.

Chapter 19: A Book You Started and Never Finished

The Orchardist,  Amanda Coplin

It's been a while since I was here to talk books. I blame this book for that. It was supposed to fall into a different category. It was supposed to be a compelling story, beautiful prose, a recommendation. Instead it just kept putting me to sleep.

Coplin's tale is about an old guy who lives on a large orchard. He should be named Joe White he's so boring. I wanted to like him. I wanted to feel how haunted he is by the loss of his sister. I wanted him to find some sort of soul salve in the branches of the fruit trees. But, no, he just lets life happen around him. He's kind. That's the nice thing I can say about him.

So this guy lives alone and two pregnant teenage girls show up in his orchard but won't interact with them directly and he decides to sort of adopt them. The more feral girl, who probably could tell a good story, is not long for the world and we are left with Boring Guy and Dumb Boring Girl. She's had a really hard life and is detached from pretty much everything except horses. At this point I gave up.

The part of the book I did read could have been fleshed out into it's own novel with a bizarre resolution to a mystery, but that is not the route Coplin took. Heroin and sexual slavery are just kind of glossed over so we can focus on how boring the main guy is.

There's also a practical midwife who might be a good character, but she isn't given much page space except to call her by her first and last name every time she is mentioned, a device that quickly becomes, you guessed it, boring.

So, I might give this one a try again in the future. But for now, I want to read a story that does something besides cure my insomnia. After an trip to Book A Million, it looks like I've got some good material to share with you soon. Until then, The Orchardist gets half a Maria.

Chapter 18: A Nonfiction Book

The Devil in the White City, Erik Larson

I typically enjoy historical fiction. The Constant Princess from Philippa Gregory's Tudor series is one of my favorite books. What Larson has done here is take samples of actual communications from a historic period and written them into something unique. It reads like fiction but is all true. Nothing is conjured or imagined. The result is a bit magical.

It's hard not to go on and on about tiny details that make this book so interesting, how certain famous people's paths crossed or almost crossed. Reading many passages, I was excited to recognize people and events. That it covers both a city I love (Chicago) and a topic I find endlessly fascinating (serial killers) is almost icing on the cake. I learned new things, experienced the city in a different era, and found my insomniac hours filled with Wikipedia research.

So the main story is that of the World's Fair preparations in Chicago during volatile times (are they ever not?) This section focuses on the processes of designing and building the fair, the decadence and struggles of the creators, the emergence of new architectural art forms, and an appearance or two by Chicago's darling Frank Lloyd Wright. I say this is the main story because there is much more time and detail about the goings on of the fair. However, the parallel story of H.H. Holmes and his hotel of terror ticks right alongside it.

Now, if you are looking for details about Holmes- his methods and peculiarities- you will not find them here. I find Harold Schechter's research and analysis of serial killers to be well written and insightful. So check that one out if you want a more intimate portrait of Holmes. But, Larson does a decent job of putting Holmes into the context of labor unrest, financial panics, and the irresistible draw of an international display. After the fair ends, Larson turns to the pursuit and capture of Holmes but stops short of trial, conviction, and death. If you don't handle gore well, you don't have to worry about encountering it here.

 I found this book ... not exactly enjoyable, but still very readable. Perhaps fascinating is the right word for it. I am also very intrigued by others who have liked it, not people who I would expect to rave about murder, especially true crime. I won't be keeping it in my library. In fact, I've already packed it to pass on to my mom, who will pass it on to someone else. And I won't read it again. Still, Devil gets a solid 3 Marias for readability and interesting content. I'll even tack on an extra half for it's original format and writing.

P.S. If you like this one, I also recommend Shadow Divers for its storytelling style of nonfiction.