The Fiery Cross, Outlander book 5

The Fiery Cross, Diana Gabaldon

It didn't take me quite this long to read book 5, but sometimes it felt like forever. Still, I've found a moment to write about this one.

If you don't know about Outlander, it's hard to describe. It is a mix of historical fiction, war, romance, fantasy/sci-fi, and ladyporn. Each novel is really long. There is a LOT going on in this story, and Gabaldon does a fine job of weaving a very intricate tale.

Back when I read A Book That Scares Me, I mentioned an incident with my friend. I'd been reading the first three installments of the Outlander series and I told her that, frankly, I was tired of all the rape. So I was going to take a break and pick up a new series. Unfortunately, it was the Girl With the Dragon Tattoo series, so *spoiler alert* more rape.

Well, when I came back to book 5, really the books are good but you can't just plow through the whole series, I told the same friend that I was starting it. I said something about how the title sounded like something about the Klan not clans (in fact there is a book about the history of the KKK with the same title) but wasn't. Well ... there aren't any white sheets involved, but it does lay the historical groundwork for what would become the white supremacy group we all love to hate.

The story- how many ways can colonists barely escape death? That could be the subtitle of this one. Fortunately for pre-Revolutionary mountaineers, Claire has brought her modern medical expertise back and is brewing some form of penicillin, making luxurious soap, and birthin' babies all over the Carolinas. At least no one kills a bear with a knife in this one.

I don't want to give it all away, but just as I was about to shelf Cross and turn to something else, BOOM! She tries to kill one of the main characters! You know when Jamie and Claire are going to die (or do we?), but there are children and grandchildren and tenants that are still a mystery. And let me say, it isn't an accidental misfire. Dude is hung as a prisoner of war. Well, that got my attention and I dove right back in.

This is not the kind of series where you can pick up any. You need to start at the beginning (a very good place to start). If you're like me, you'll start googling historical events you never learned in school, like the Jacobite rebellion. And, honestly, one thing I enjoy about the series now that they are in the Carolinas is that I'm familiar with the places and the names. If that's your thing, too, then keep at the series. If not, I can probably summarize seven bazillion pages for you over a cup of coffee.

The Fiery Cross runs along my other Outlander recommendations of four Marias.

Americanah

Americanah, Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie

I could probably take a few days to write this review. I could turn it into a full-on book report cum sociology conversation. But that's not what you are here for, so I'll curb those desires. A little.

This one took me a while to get into. I don't know if it was life circumstances or what, but I almost didn't renew after two weeks. I almost didn't finish this book. But I picked this book as a conscious effort to read more books by people of color, especially women. So, I kind of had to finish it. And, once I hit a certain point, one I can't really define, I didn't want to stop reading. Full confession, with just 20-ish pages left, I put my tablet on my bedside table and spent a sleepless night worrying that one of the characters might die. You might say I am invested in my stories.

Americanah is the story of Ifemelu, a Nigerian woman who moves to the United States, goes through some stuff, writes a blog and then ... well, I try not to give spoilers here. But the tale isn't that straightforward. It's a love story- chapters devoted to Ifem's boyfriend, Obinze, and the path his life takes. These two are school sweethearts who flit around each other like bugs around a lightbulb. They have very different experiences with immigration, but Adichie maintains a parallel storyline.

My freshman year at Indiana University, I took L141 like all my peers. The topic for this lit class was The Immigrant Experience. It wasn't my favorite class or topic. But now, years later, I wish I could track down that professor and talk about this book with her. There were things that I learned in that class that changed the way I read this book. I found myself mentally putting on Ifemelu's shoes to understand her story, not my interpretation of it. It was really quite interesting. I realized how many little things I take for granted daily that are unusual and even frightening to immigrants.

Another interesting thing about this book is that Ifem, as a Non-American Black, has a freedom to say things that American Blacks want to say (and do say) without being accused of reverse-racism or "playing the race card." It's almost as if she is this dispassionate outside observer, and so she can criticize Americans because she is detached. I highlighted many passages- a white woman who always refers to black women as beautiful but never as black, the "aggressive, unaffectionate interest" another woman has with Nigerians, accents, hair, tribalisms, the nationalism of liberal Americans, race as a social not biological construct, privilege, and Oprah. I would love to talk about each of these in depth, but I'll have to save that for face-to-face interactions.

I was a little disappointed when I looked up the Raceteenth blog and only found a couple of entries. This would have been a fantastic crossmojination(TM) of literature and the real world. But it doesn't seem that anyone working on the book was interested in that. Oh well.

I can't think of any reason not to recommend this book. It's love and travel and pop culture. It characters I truly care for. I don't own it, but will look for it in the used bookstore. Americanah earns 4 Marias.

Chapter 41: A Book With Bad Reviews

The Sweetness at the Bottom of the Pie, Alan Bradley

This is just a silly category. Every book has someone out there saying they hated it. I mean, just scroll through some of my previous posts and you can see that. But I'm crossing it off the list today.

It's already well documented that I love a precocious, intelligent girl protagonist. To say that I'm charmed by Miss Flavia deLuce would be an understatement. A ten year old who says, "I might be considered a very dangerous person," and means it is simultaneously frightening and delightful.

Flave is the youngest of three sisters living at Buckshaw, a once-regal country estate that has passed its prime. She's fascinated by chemistry, especially poisons, and never wastes an opportunity to stick her nose into trouble. When she stumbles upon a dying man in the cucumber patch, her imagination and wit take her on an adventure of intrigue, danger, and stamps.

One of the frequent complaints of this book on Goodreads is that Flavia is unbelievable. Clearly these people do not remember what it's like to be a smart, 10-year old girl. These readers underestimate the abilities of the girl, much the same way the older sisters and constables do in the book.

The story itself is a typical whodunit. The reader makes connections quicker than the hero. The bad guy gets caught. The unlikely detective gets a token of gratitude or praise. Somehow, told through Flavia's eye, even a mystery about stamps (stamps! sorry, philatelists, but you've got to expect them to seem boring outside collector circles) is engaging, funny, and interesting.

Sweetness earns 4 Marias. I plan to read more of the series just too find out what Flavia is up to next.

Chapter 39: A Book with a Color in the Title

Island of the Blue Dolphins, Scott O'Dell

I'm surprised I never read this one. I like historical fiction, and Island definitely belongs on several lists of books popular with tween girls, but maybe I was just too busy with Louisa May Alcott and the Babysitters Club series. Anyway, I picked it up for the Blue, not really knowing anything about it.

O'Dell took the true story of a woman who lived alone on an island for 18 years and turned it into an award-winning classic. Unlike other historical fiction I have enjoyed, like Phillipa Gregory's Tudor series, there is actually very little of The Lost Woman of San Nicolas that can be verified. Even the author's epilogue is disputed by some history buffs. So, with accounts given through pantomime and signing and the logs of a couple of captains, O'Dell crafted the tale of a woman's loneliness and survival. Regardless of how accurate it is, it belongs on children's shelves.

I'm not going to get into details of the plot, but I never thought details of fishing for a squid could be so compelling. Her relationship with the animals of the island makes me surprised Rontu isn't a more popular dog name.

There's no telling what "Karana" actually encountered and endured all those years, but I think O'Dell did a nice job of creating some conflict and resolution without turning it into an exhausting array of near-death experiences (something I grow weary of when reading the Outlander series). Karana is a realistic badass that I look forward to introducing my kids to. She earns 4 Marias for Island (and here is where we make a remark about white men getting things that natives/women worked for).

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 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 15: A Book That Came Out The Year You Were Born

I Am The Cheese, Robert Cormier

As you can probably tell by the publishing date of this entry, this book is a very quick read. All I can think now is how did I not read this in high school maybe even middle school? I have no answer to that question, but it seems I cheated my young self.

Cormier is known for his dark YA novels, even before they were called that. Cheese is no exception. On the surface, it's the story of a boy riding his bike to visit his father. Enter Brint. Brint seems to be some sort of psychologist who is intent on helping Adam fill in some blanks in his memory. Flashing between the epic bicycle journey and these guided sessions, we learn that Adam has bigger concerns than dogs and bullies. Below the surface, we enter the disturbed mind of a child protecting himself from a horrible truth. He so actively represses the memories that they are related in third person, giving us a distinction between past and present action. Normally I detest this type of jumping around (see Chapter 3c). I like a clear narrative. But Cormier makes it work to give an extra layer of tension to the psychological drama.

The ending seems to be the biggest or most common complaint about the novel, but I can't even dislike it. In fact, I think it's perfect. Any other ending would weaken the story (and I'd probably give it fewer Marias). So, while this won't become part of my permanent library, I probably will read it again. That alone is proof that it's better than Shutter Island, to which it is often compared. I Am the Cheese earns 4 Marias.

Chapter 13: A Book With Magic

Queen of the Tearling, Erika Johansen

This book has a lot to like- strong female lead, mystery and intrigue, political philosophy, and a healthy dose of profanity. Now, I'm not going to pretend that it comes close to competing with The Books With Magic. Kelsea is no Boy Who Lived. But this is a good book.

My biggest gripe with this book is that it is difficult to find a place to stop. Not because the action is so compelling, but because of 434 pages, there are only 14 chapters. Let me do the math for you, that averages out to some longass chapters, and they are not broken down into pieces. That's it. That's my big complaint. That and I can't decide whether it's pronounced Teerling, rhymes with peer, or Tairling, rhymes with pair.

I also got tired of reading Kelsea hiss when she was hurt. And I really didn't need reminders that Thomas is fat. Or that Kelsea is. But ... meh.

I did like that not all my questions were answered. This is a good opening to a series that has potential. I think some of the more shocking events were supposed to take me by surprise, but there was enough foreshadowing, that they just confirmed what I already suspected. So, either Ms. Johansen and I think alike, or she did an artful job of crafting peaks without then telling us

 *** HEY, HERE'S A RISE IN CONFLICT! ***







What? You don't like that, either? I might still be a little mad at Zusak.

I also really like the setup for the hero. She is naïve yet educated. Her sheltered childhood gives her an interesting position from which to examine her kingdom in a way unlike many royals. Of course she is inheriting a decimated kingdom from her gluttonous uncle, but she sweeps in to rule with a new attitude. It's interesting to watch her develop as a leader and discover more about herself along the way.

I can't talk about liking this book without also mentioning her captain, Mace. He's your standard, world-weary tough guy that no one wants to take on. He's brusque when he's not silent, but he's also lovable and admirable. His name is also Lazarus, so I expect to see something done with that in future installments.

So, this is a good one. I might even read it again if I really get into the series (a new one is out this summer). It won't be in my permanent library. And I don't daydream about all the homeschool activities we can do when the kids read it (Seriously, think about how the Harry Potter series would differ if he accepted Draco's friendship in book one. Think about it.). I give it four Marias.