Tag Archives: book reviews

White River Junctions by Dave Norman

White River Junctions by Dave Norman: The title caught my eye because I’ve actually visited White River Junction, Vermont, and found it to be a charmingly quirky little town. The book is divided into two sections: the buildings and the people. The first is a series of essays detailing the histories of assorted structures in WRJ, and was definitely my favorite part. I loved reading about the railroad boom and subsequent demise, the rebirth of the Tip Top building, and the rest. It made me want to go back to WRJ and take another look at these places. The second section consists of interviews with elderly locals, and while they were reasonably interesting stories, they did not feel as connected to this specific area. Norman’s obsession with “what makes a Vermonter” grew tiring, especially as all the supposedly Vermont-specific characteristics listed are common to pretty much all rural folks who lived through the Great Depression. Unfortunately, what I’d hoped would be written as a love letter to WRJ turned out to be more of a eulogy. Norman comes across as quite pessimistic about the economic future of the town, and I was disappointed he did not write more about the more successful fixtures of the area, such as the Center for Comic Studies and the memorable Main Street Museum. Oh well. If nothing else, this book did inspire me to want to revisit the area, and if it does that to every reader, there may be hope for this little town yet.

Also posted on BookCrossing.

Kitchen Confidential by Anthony Bourdain

Kitchen Confidential by Anthony Bourdain (unabridged audiobook read by the author; 8 hours on MP3): The tagline for this book is something like “sex, drugs, and haute cuisine,” and that about sums it up. Bourdain takes the reader on a journey through his culinary days, from dishwasher to head chef. This is not a good book for vegetarians, those offended by crude language, or anyone grossed out by frank descriptions of animal flesh. I found, in general, that these autobiographical essays entertained me thoroughly but also convinced me that I’d rather not experience such things first hand. Bourdain’s average day makes me tired just thinking about it. While I appreciated the advice about restaurants and tips for would-be chefs, my favorite parts were unquestionably the anecdotes and adventures. Bourdain’s cynical but generally amused and appreciative view of the crazy characters he’s encountered never failed to make me smile. Sure, these are not people I’d want to associate with in person but they’re fun to get to know vicariously. I will definitely have to pick up some of Bourdain’s other books.

A note on the audio: I had to get used to Bourdain’s swift reading, but having enjoyed him on No Reservations for ages, it didn’t take long for me to adapt to his brisk cadence.

Dragonflight by Anne McCaffrey

Dragonflight by Anne McCaffrey (unabridged audiobook read by Dick Hill; 9 hrs 14 min on MP3): Lessa is a young girl who bonds with a queen dragon and joins the dragonriders to fight the Threads, a vague enemy which sounds more like a natural disaster than anything. I’ve read a lot of fantasy in my day, but this was my first visit to Pern, and I spent much of the time wondering how in the world so many books managed to be written in this series. The characters are shallow and not especially likable, the names are all spelled with apostrophes (ugh!), the writing was awkward and flowery, and the paradoxes brought on by time travel were frankly tiresome. I guess if I had some kind of existing affinity for dragons I would have been more drawn in, but I don’t. I sincerely doubt I’ll be reading anything else set in Pern.

A note on the audio: Hill’s dialogue was great, though his reading of the description was pretty meh. Then again, I’m not convinced that’s not mostly the fault of the prose itself, as opposed to his acting ability.

The Green Mile by Stephen King

The Green Mile by Stephen King: I have found I prefer King’s non-horror stories, and this was no exception. This is a serial novel in six parts (and I actually own all six individual books, in addition to the six-in-one paperback), so I’ll review each one separately.

1. The Two Dead Girls: Not a whole lot happens in this section except for exposition: you learn of John Coffey’s crime, brutally murdering and raping two young sisters, and you get to know the narrator (Paul) and some of his coworkers. One thing I noticed was that Coffey’s guilt is just assumed without much in the way of evidence. This big black man is found holding the two corpses and sobbing away, and everybody figures he must have been the one who killed them. “I couldn’t help it” could have multiple meanings, especially since he didn’t elaborate. But I guess being a black man in 1930s Louisiana was crime enough for these folks. Anyway, it was a fine enough start, though if I didn’t already have the rest of the series I probably wouldn’t have been interested enough to continue.

2. The Mouse on the Mile: I love Mr. Jingles. The dichotomy between him and the other major character introduced – the evil William Wharton – is interesting. I like how Mr. Jingles’s un-mouse-like intelligence is neither questioned nor explained, nor is Wharton’s sheer malice for everyone he encounters. Can’t wait for the next one.

3. Coffey’s Hands: Man oh man, does this one end on a cliff-hanger. Granted, I’ve seen the movie so I know (more or less) what happens, but it’s been so many years that I’d forgotten much of it. It’s at this point that Edgecomb starts to doubt Coffey’s guilt and Percy starts to go over the edge. You can feel the tension build.

4. The Bad Death of Eduard Delacroix: This one is certainly well-named. For all I might not like his horror plots, King certainly knows how to describe gore vividly. That’s a mental picture I won’t be forgetting any time soon. I didn’t think I could hate Percy any more than I already did, but I managed.

5. Night Journey: Honestly, I think this was the most suspenseful installment of the entire series. Edgecomb and his crew sneak Coffey out of the prison to drop in on the warden, and any number of things could go wrong at any moment. Of course, we’re not entirely out of the woods yet, with one more book to go.

6. Coffey on the Mile: Hoo boy. If you’re looking for a good cry, you’ll probably get one reading this. I thought I was okay after the first heart-wrenching scene, but two or three more after that really got me going. But in a good way. The ending is reasonably satisfying, and kind of thought provoking. After all, since it’s told in first person it’s impossible to know for sure what happens to the narrator after the story is finished, and that kind of open-endedness is sort of neat for this sort of tale.

Also posted on BookCrossing.

The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo by Stieg Larsson

The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo by Stieg Larsson (unabridged audiobook read by Simon Vance, translated by Reg Keeland; 16 hrs 21 min on 13 discs): Mikael Blomkvist, fresh from a libel conviction, has stepped down from the editor’s desk of the magazine he founded, Millenium. Shortly thereafter, Swedish industry tycoon Henrik Vanger hires him to research the disappearance of his niece Harriet nearly 40 years before. Meanwhile, 20-something antisocial genius Lisbeth Salander is slowly attempting to put her own life together. Eventually the two meet and begin working together on the case. The plot is complicated, with almost too many Vangers to keep track, but I definitely enjoyed it. I felt the suspense and was saddened by the sad parts and cheered at the victories of the Good Guys. I learned that I know pretty much nothing about Sweden and Swedish history, and was a little concerned at how misogynistic the society is portrayed. There was quite a bit of graphic rape, murder, and mutilation, to the point where some of it felt rather gratuitous. (Likewise with Blomkvist’s sex life: does he sleep with every single woman he meets or just most of them?) Still, I found the story engrossing and just had to know what happened next. More importantly, I have a real affection for Salander and I look forward to reading of her later adventures in the rest of the trilogy.

A note on the audio: I’ve listened to Vance read other books, and he was likewise excellent here as well. I particularly enjoyed his voice for Lisbeth, since it was both undeniably female without being a caricature.

A Canticle for Leibowitz by Walter M. Miller Jr.

A Canticle for Leibowitz by Walter M. Miller Jr.: This is one of those books that routinely shows up on lists of Best SF Books Evar and is often grouped with other dystopian stories like 1984 and Fahrenheit 451. In the first section of this novel, Brother Francis of Utah stumbles upon some artifacts from Saint Leibowitz himself: the sacred shopping list and the holy blueprints, among other things. This beginning sounds silly but the story is anything but. We begin about six hundred years after mankind has more or less annihilated itself through nuclear war and is just now beginning to rebuild. The Order of Leibowitz is a group of monks following in the tradition of a man who led others in the storing and memorization of books in the face of the mobs who wished to burn them. Like monks of the Middle Ages, they spend their days copying – and illuminating – blueprints, math textbooks, and other findings. I enjoyed this first section the most. The other two sections were difficult to follow. The second, taking place several hundred years after the first, explores some of the first rediscoveries of ancient technology, such as electricity. The third is several centuries after the second, and man now has space travel, colonies on other worlds, and – you guessed it – nuclear weapons. I wish I’d understood the whole deal with the ancient pilgrim/Benjamin/Eleazar. I wish I knew even a tiny bit of Latin, as I had to skim several passages in that no-longer-dead language (though this also served as a constant reminder of the fact that the book was written before Vatican II). In short, I’m not sure how I feel about this book because I’m not entirely convinced I understood what it was trying to say. I’m glad to have read it, but I’m not positive I would recommend it to someone else. This is often how I react to the rapidly growing pool of Classic Literature I Don’t Get.

Also posted on BookCrossing.

The Robots of Dawn by Isaac Asimov

The Robots of Dawn by Isaac Asimov (unabridged audiobook read by William Dufris; 15 hrs 47 min on 15 discs): This time around, Baley is sent to Daneel’s home planet of Aurora, the first and most arrogant of the spacer worlds, to solve the “murder” of Jander the robot. Along the way he must deal with his own crippling agoraphobia, the Auroran prejudice against Earthmen, and foreign sexual mores. That last bit was the most unexpected: the lengthy and detailed discussions of sex and sexual practices, compared and contrasted among Earth, Aurora, and Solaria. I had trouble not thinking about Asimov’s doofy muttonchops, turning these passages even more surreal. It was certainly a well-written book with lots of interesting speculation into human societies, but it is easily my least favorite in the series. That said, it was particularly fascinating to read this after reading Foundation, as this was clearly a sort of prequel to it, from the talk of a galactic human empire to the introduction of psychohistory as a field of study. Taking into account the references to Susan Calvin (of I, Robot fame), I start to wonder just how many of Asimov’s books take place in the same universe.

A note on the audio: There isn’t nearly enough Daneel in this book, and I think Dufris’s excellent voice acting made me miss him all the more.

Also posted on BookCrossing.

The Collectors by David Baldacci

The Collectors by David Baldacci (abridged audiobook read by Tom Wopat and Maggi-Meg Reed; 6 hrs on 5 discs): A Congressman is assassinated, then shortly thereafter an employee at the Library of Congress dies under mysterious circumstances. His friends start looking into the case and soon find themselves running for their own lives. At the same time, a woman is running a high-stakes con at a well-fortified casino. This is technically the second Camel Club book, but I didn’t once feel lost or confused having not read the first installment. My favorite parts all took place within the Library of Congress, as I’ve never visited any of its reading rooms or rare book collections (you don’t see many books on the regular tour). The suspense was pleasantly constant, the characters likable and distinct, and the ending satisfying while making way for the next book in the series. A nice piece of entertainment.

A note on the audio: Wopat did an excellent job. Reed was quite good as well, though I was a little confused as to why a second narrator was brought in to voice a single character. The abridgement was fine and I never felt like I was missing anything. Over all, I enjoyed it quite a bit.

Also posted on BookCrossing.

Waterwoman by Lenore Hart

Waterwoman by Lenore Hart: This took me an incredibly long time to read – not because it was hard to get into, but because it lived in my gym bag for reading on the stationary bike. Then I stopped going to the gym because I was too busy with the 2011 BookCrossing Convention, then a week later I tore up the ligaments and tendons in my ankle, thus ending my biking days for a long time. So the other day I decided to pull the poor thing out of my disused gym bag and actually finish it.

This is pretty much an atmospheric book, one you read for the setting more than the plot. It’s 1920 and Annie Revels’s father has just died, leaving her alone with her beautiful younger sister and ailing mother. They live on a small island off the shore of Virginia where their father made their living as a waterman: harvesting and selling oysters and crabs. It’s a hard life, but one Annie takes to fairly quickly, donning her father’s old clothes and doing everything herself. When she meets a man who sees her as an attractive woman for the first time in her life, everything changes. Not a whole lot happens, really. It’s kind of a sad tale, but not really because I never formed any real attachment to the characters. My personal fascination with the first two decades of the 20th century was mostly what kept me interested, as the descriptions of that kind of life at the time were quite detailed. In the end, I’d count this book as one that passed the time, but not one I’ll remember in a year.

Also posted on BookCrossing.

The Naked Sun by Isaac Asimov

The Naked Sun by Isaac Asimov (unabridged audiobook read by William Dufris; 7 hrs 40 min on 6 discs): This time around, Lije Baley is sent to solve a murder case on another planet. I just want to note that sometimes dated SF can be really amusing. In this case, I was entertained by the notion that the “expressway” between DC and NYC takes ten hours. But that’s neither here nor there. As an Earthman, Baley is used to crowded underground cities and always being surrounded by people, be it in the cafeterias for meals or in the public restrooms. The planet Solaria is the opposite: the planet is home to only 20,000 people, each of whom has a private estate and lives more or less as what we would consider a recluse. While three-dimensional holographic “viewing” is a perfectly acceptable means of being social, being in the physical presence of another human being has become thought of as utterly distasteful. Most of the story deals with the society itself, coupled with Baley’s struggles with agoraphobia. I was fascinated by all the different characters, even if the murder mystery felt somewhat artificial. After all, I was more interested in the science fiction part of the story, and in that respect Asimov never lets me down.

A note on the audio: Dufris continues to entertain. I especially love the dichotomy between gruffly emotional Baley and ever-placid Daneel.

Also posted on BookCrossing.

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