WG 2010-26 celebrates the fiftieth anniversary of To Kill a Mockingbird
I read this book for the first time in August 2007, and this is what I had to say then:
We did this play in high school; I was called at the last minute to be an extra in the courtroom scene. I remember being struck by the quiet power of the dialogue. Now, over a decade later, I’ve finally read the novel on which it was based and rediscovered that feeling. I’ve found there are very few books that live up to so much hype – recently a group of librarians declared this to be the best book of the 20th century – but this is one of those rare exceptions. It’s thought-provoking and complex while remaining very readable and entertaining. I definitely recommend this book.
This sort of vagueness in a review is common when I am just blown away by a book. I have trouble articulating specific aspects when the whole thing is done so well.
Harper Lee herself no longer gives interviews, but CNN was talking to one of her friends not long ago and evidently her reason for never writing another book was because she could never top TKAM.
And she’s probably right.
by Gina Ochsner: Um. Well, this takes place in post-Soviet Russia, and is more or less about three widows – an Eastern Orthodox Christian, a Muslim, and a Jew – who all live in the same condemned apartment building with their children. Christian Lukeria torments her overweight granddaughter Tanya who spends a lot of her time obsessing over clouds and colors; Muslim Azade learns people’s secrets by smelling their excrement and worries over where she went wrong with her son Vitek; Jewish Olga frets over the fate of her idiot son Yuri and his selfish girlfriend Zoya. Also, there’s a gaggle of feral children running around. The book begins with the suicide of Mircha, Azade’s husband, whose ghost shows up soon after to cause mischief. Much of the actual plot revolves around the local museum where Yuri, Zoya, and Tanya all work. None of the exhibits are originals, and in fact most were created by Tanya herself out of candy wrappers and glue. However, when the possibility arises of a grant from some wealthy Americans, the entire apartment building is in a tizzy. The ending is happy – more or less – though it feels forced and borders on deus ex machina. This is the sort of novel where you have to just absorb things as they come and not approach it expecting some sort of coherent storyline. Mostly it’s about a group of characters, and much of the book is spent explaining their personalities, motivations, and histories. And that’s usually fine by me, except that this time around everyone was so exceptionally screwed up that I couldn’t muster the least bit of sympathy for any of them. Perhaps another reader would find it darkly humorous but mostly I was just glad when it was over.
by Ray Bradbury: This is more an interconnected series of short stories and vignettes about the future history of man’s colonization of Mars than a single novel. Written more than 60 years ago, it’s fascinating to see the mixture of futuristic technology with old-fashioned sensibilities (get them womens in the kitchen!). For example, the chapter dealing with all the African Americans in the South leaving for Mars felt like it took place in the 1930s. And I sincerely doubt any Martian colonies would empty out in the face of a war on Earth today. On the contrary, I imagine the threat of war would lead to an increase in interplanetary immigration. When this was written, WWII had just ended and war was still viewed as a noble endeavor, and there’s certainly no way Bradbury could have foreseen how unpopular it would become mere decades later. And yes, we’ve known for many years that Mars is uninhabited (and uninhabitable by human beings), but that’s not really the point. This could be any planet, even our own. There’s a strong parallel to the history of European colonization of the American continents.
by A.M. Lascurain, illustrated by Dariusz and Agnieszka Golen: This is the tale of a jester named Peppy Birthdaycakes and his quest to become funny. He is aided by several other jesters, a dairy maid who also does alchemy, and a turtle with a French accent. In the meantime, the evil (and bumbling) wizard Humidor stalks them. The whole story is laced with puns and other silliness, and on every other page is an absolutely beautiful illustration. Most of my quibbles are technical: typos and grammatical errors are everywhere, and I really wish all of the gorgeous artwork could have been printed right side up. I understand the point of printing them sideways so they fit on the page better, but it’s distracting to constantly be turning the book. On the bright side, they are all rotated to the left, so you only have to turn the book one way. Anyway, despite the technical issues, overall this is a very cute little fairy tale, excellent for reading aloud to children.
by Scott Westerfeld: In Bixby, Oklahoma, time stops for an hour at midnight every night (though how they know it’s exactly an hour isn’t clear). Only a handful of teenagers experience this “secret hour” and treat it like their personal playground – until Jessica Day shows up and turns the whole thing on its head. Suddenly it’s dangerous, and the “slithers” and “darklings” that used to leave people alone are attacking en masse. Each person has their own special power, and much of the book is spent attempting to discern Jessica’s. I enjoyed this one. It’s the first of a trilogy, but there’s still a decently satisfying end while keeping the way open for more story. I would read the other books were I to find them.
by Vivian Cook: The subtitle is actually somewhat misleading here, since it’s not actually about why nobody can spell, but rather just a series of anecdotes and quizzes about spelling in general. This is not a book you just sit down and read all at once, but rather something you pick up from time to time and read a few pages. Much of the volume consists of examples of nonstandard (or plain old incorrect) spelling, from lists of band names to photos of business logos. My favorite parts were the ones that dealt with the evolution of language; some of the humor essays on spelling were pretty amusing as well. I suppose if you’re obsessed with proper spelling you might enjoy this one, but honestly I’m not surprised I was able to get it for all of a dollar at Borders. It’s just a bit too niche for me.
by Geraldine Brooks: The plague strikes in a tiny village, and its inhabitants decide to quarantine themselves in order to prevent spreading the infection. Anna, a mere housemaid to the rector, becomes an unlikely hero through this tragedy. As time wears on and more people die, the villagers become desperate, turning to superstition and even violence. The story covers the entire event, from the delivery of the infected bolt of cloth to the reopening of the village all the way to Anna’s life afterward. When I think of the plague I usually think Middle Ages; this took place in 1666, well after the first colonies in America were founded. Even so, medicine was still quite primitive, consisting of barber-surgeons with their leeches and wise women with their herbs. Perhaps most fascinating is the afterword, where the author reveals that her story was based on the real village of 
by Margaret Peterson Haddix: A teenager named Dorry gets sucked into a religious cult, and eventually leaves. (That’s not a spoiler, given the title of the book.) It was reasonably interesting, but the cult wasn’t very believable. It starts as something akin to Campus Crusade for Christ and then suddenly it’s all fake and dangerous and even criminal. There’s too little build-up, and too little frank discussion of religion. I suppose the author was trying not to offend anyone, but the tip-toeing around certain passages of scripture was a little frustrating. I will say that I liked Angela, even if she was a tad over the top to be truly scary. All in all, it was a decent way to pass the time, but not something I’d necessarily recommend to anybody.
by Sophie Kinsella: A cute book, but I had a bit of a problem swallowing the premise: a woman on a turbulent plane ride, fearing death, blabs all her secrets to the man next to her. (The man turns out to be the founder of the company where she works, and remembers everything she said.) What kind of nitwit responds to stress by telling a stranger how she finds g-strings uncomfortable? If you can get beyond that, it’s a pretty fun little book. I liked that I didn’t know where it was going, that I didn’t see the Big Drama coming a mile away. I mean, it wasn’t exactly a twist ending or a big mystery or anything, but it was amusing enough to keep me entertained the whole way through. I just wish I’d had a little more sympathy with the main character. I just don’t see the point of lying about your interests in order to impress somebody. If they don’t like you for who you are, what are the odds of having a good relationship with them?