The Ever-After Bird

by Ann Rinaldi
Harcourt, Inc.
232 pages, incl. bibliography
Review by Nancy Horner
Image courtesy of Harcourt, Inc

Cecelia McGill’s father has told her repeatedly that she has no soul and routinely beat her for the slightest infraction. Cece doesn’t understand why he risks his life helping hide runaway slaves; and, assumes the reason he treats her so badly is because he blames her for her mother’s death in childbirth. But, how can he be so cruel to her when he’s so caring to the slaves he helps?

When CeCe’s father is killed, her uncle Alex, a doctor and ornithologist, becomes her guardian. Uncle Alex is a gentle man who lost his only child and whose wife suffered paralysis in a terrible accident. CeCe finds him likable and kind. But, she’s not so sure she wants to leave her home -- particularly without her dog, cat and horse -- when Alex asks CeCe to accompany him on a journey to the South to hunt for a scarlet ibis to paint. Called “the Ever-After Bird” by slaves who believe they’ll be free forever if they spot the bird, Alex must move from plantation to plantation in his search for the elusive bird.

Alex and CeCe are accompanied by his assistant Earline, a former slave who attends Oberlin College. CeCe must not only learn to treat Earline as a slave owner might but also learn to hold her tongue when she witnesses the mistreatment of black families enslaved on the plantations where she and her uncle are treated as honored guests. Uncle Alex uses his search for the bird as an excuse to quietly give slaves advice on where to go if they run away and surreptitiously hands them money to aid in their escapes.

As CeCe travels around with her uncle and Earline, she sees sights that would make your toes curl, learns a few things about her uncle and Earline that shock her, and slowly gains understanding of why her father and uncle have spent so much time and taken so many risks helping people escape from slavery.

I have mixed feelings about The Ever-After Bird. I think the author did an excellent job of placing the reader within the time period and describing the horrors of slavery. It appears to me that Ann Rinaldi’s research is excellent. Additional author’s notes describe the real-life character upon which Alex is based, which lends some credence to the events that take place. I also think Rinaldi did a terrific job of describing how easy it is for people to mistreat those they love and how far an apology goes toward healing the hurts.

What I didn’t like was the fact that the book was written in a rather flat, simplistic manner. The tone not so bland as to put me to sleep, but it just seemed a bit choppy and I would have liked to see a little more craftsmanship in the wording. The main characters were okay, apart from Earline, who was a bit bizarre, in my opinion. One would expect more maturity out of a woman who had escaped from slavery and knew the ways of the South. Earline is combative, rude and surprisingly dense. It stunned me that she was so obnoxious to CeCe and never seemed to really know her place.

Also, I had to wonder whether or not a 10-year-old is mature enough to read about the kind of violence that occurred in The Ever-After Bird and on Southern plantations. The more I think about it, though, the more I’m convinced that I would have likely read the book around that age, had it been available, and would not have been overly offended or upset by the material. So, while I do feel a little iffy about this book and would give it an average rating, overall, I think the book provides a worthwhile peek into history and would recommend it particularly for the glimpse into plantation life.

The Porcupine Year by Louise Erdrich

The Porcupine Year by Louise Erdrich
HarperCollins
Historical Middle Grade Fiction (ages 8-12)
208 pages
Reviewed by Nancy Horner

There was no thinking. All went dark. They were rushing through the night on water they couldn’t navigate, past invisible rocks, between black shores. All they could do was swallow their screams and paddle for their lives. Paddle with a wild strength they never knew they had between them. Omakayas felt the cold breath of the rocks as their canoe swept inches from a jagged edge, a monstrous jutting lip, a pointing finger of rough stone. As she paddled she cried out for the rocks, the asiniig, to guide them. Asked them in her mind and then called out again. They seemed to hear her. Even in the dark, she could see the rocks suddenly, areas of greater density and weight. Now she flew past them with a flick of her paddle.

The Porcupine Year is the third in a series of books about Omakayas, a young Ojibwe girl whose family has been exiled from Madeline Island, their home in Minnesota. I haven’t read the first two books in the series, although I definitely will. In this installment, the family continues its search for a new home. Omakayas is 14 and on the verge of womanhood but still a child in many ways. The book begins with Omakayas and her brother Pinch hunting deer from their canoe. Darkness has fallen and they’re a little too far from camp but both are determined to do their part for the family. As they attempt to navigate the river after accidentally frightening away the deer, they’re unexpectedly caught in a current, pulled into rapids and forced to fight for their lives. What an exciting scene and a great way to begin a book.

The Porcupine Year is compelling, touching, heartbreaking and beautiful. As Erdrich weaves the tale of time spent wandering toward another island where Omakayas’ family hopes to find relatives, Erdrich deftly blends action with quiet everyday life, happiness and laughter with horror and betrayal, death with young life. Omakayas is sometimes heroic and occasionally foolish. Eventually, Omakayas begins to fall in love and the reader understands that Omakayas’ childhood is truly over.

I was particularly amazed at the descriptions of agonizing hunger and weakness when the family was hunkered down for winter, short on food and supplies after losing a brief battle with an unexpected enemy. I felt deeply for the characters and found their tale of survival and their daily challenges imbued with truth and meaning. Her brother’s pet porcupine adds a touch of humor and a bit of dilemma but the main thrust of the story is the sense of everyone doing their part under horrible circumstances in order to survive and reach their destination, a tight and loving little family.

My only difficulty with this book was the quantity of native terms and occasional confusion over the characters. I flipped to the back of the book early on, hoping to find a glossary, and was unable to locate one. As it turned out, there was a glossary and pronunciation guide, but I flipped too close to the end papers, saw the “book notes” and made an irrational assumption that a glossary was absent. Even though most of the native terms seemed to make sense in context, I was never 100% sure I was guessing their meanings, so if you read this series be sure to hunt down that glossary and mark the page, before you get going on the reading.

I loved reading this book and getting to know Omakayas. But, wow, do I wish I’d found that glossary. I had a terrible time trying to figure out the characters and eventually just decided to make some assumptions. With the right amount of information at your fingertips, the book stands beautifully on its own and makes complete sense. The series is probably best read in order, however, because Omakayas is a continuing character and the books are chronological.

Highly recommended for those who love historical fiction, tales of Native Americans, folklore, or beautiful storytelling in general.

A Lovely Little War

Life in a Japanese prison camp through the eyes of a child
by Angus Lorenzen
History Publishing Company
231 pages, incl. index
Reviewed by Nancy Horner

What led you to pick up this book? WWII is the one war that fascinates me above all others and I particularly love reading memoirs from that time period. This book was also intended to count as my first read for the War Through the Generations challenge.

Describe the book without giving anything away. Angus Lorenzen was born in China and knew it as his home. He and his family lived in a large, comfortable house with servants in Japanese-occupied China (his father had numerous connections in high places, both diplomatic and in business) and didn't even consider leaving the country until danger was imminent. By then, it was too late. Angus, his mother and his sister Lucy made it as far as the Philippines while his father and half brother remained in China.

They arrived in Manila as the Philippine Islands were being occupied by the Japanese and ended up interned in Santo Tomas prison camp, housed on a former college campus that grew more crowded, dangerous, and short of food as time went on. For nearly 4 years, the author's family members remained in the prison camp until they were liberated by American soldiers. This memoir tells the story of their imprisonment as experienced by the author, who arrived at the camp when he was a mere 6 years old.

Describe a favorite scene. The entire book was utterly gripping. I can't say there was a single scene that stands out, merely because the entire tale was so absorbing that I had trouble putting the book down, although the descriptions of how the camp was bombed after they were "liberated" were incredibly vivid. I could practically hear the explosions and the rattle of gunfire. The Japanese had not yet been conquered in Manila when soldiers arrived and there's even a photo that shows the author running into the building where his family was housed as the campus was bombed.

How did you feel about the real-life characters involved in this author's tale? Because the book is told from the author's viewpoint as a 6-9-year-old child, you see everything from his perspective as a youngster. He didn't fully understand the depths of depravity and the horrors of war. Mostly what you get out of it was that he became hungrier and hungrier as the years went by and their rations shrank.

I was really impressed by his mother's ingenuity. She had lived with servants for years, but she figured out somehow that cold cream was edible and used it to fry tinned meat and and [another ingredient I can't remember] into hard tack with their meager Red Cross rations. This and the rest of the rations she doled out carefully -- probably keeping them alive. His brother's story is an incredible tale of escape from occupied China that is so amazing that I think it's worth the price of the book. And the author, although traumatized by his experiences, has dry sense of humor that I found charming. I became quite fond of the author and his family.

What did you like most about the book? I loved the way the author incorporated historical facts into the text without diluting the telling of his story from a child's viewpoint. Really, I loved everything about this book. The story doesn't halt when the camp was liberated. Instead, the author tells how the family was reunited and where they went after the war, then he wraps it up with the tale of his journey back to the campus, 50 years later.

Was there anything you didn't like about the book? There's nothing I disliked about the book, although there was a point at which I realized that because the author was a child and he told his story as he remembered it, I didn't get a true feeling as to just how horrifying the experience was for the adults. But. Big but. There's a photo of prisoners after the liberation and they look just like victims of a Nazi concentration camp, all skin and bones.

With a few photos and some comments about other people in the camp, the slightly skewed perspective of his childish viewpoint is clarified. Lorenzen took care to explain that he didn't experience the horror in the way adults did because he didn't know better. He found ways to entertain himself, made friends, collected shells and shrapnel when the encampment was in the line of fire. He knew the guards had murdered people and were not to be approached, he was uncomfortable from the crowding and ached from hunger all the time, but he still was a kid who managed to find ways to play. It's such a unique viewpoint and story from all of the other WWII books that I've read that I know this book will stick with me for a long, long time.

Anything else worth mentioning? This is off-the-wall, I guess, but as I was closing in on the part where the Americans arrived to liberate the camp and the author repeatedly mentioned the beri-beri from which the prisoners suffered (due to malnutrition), I came to a startling realization. My father may have been nearby.

I know my dad was stationed in Manila during the closing months of WWII, as a navy corpsman on a hospital ship. Although I don't know the exact dates and I think the liberation had probably occurred months before he arrived, I recall him talking about beri-beri. What about beri-beri? I don't know. Did he hear stories about the malnourished prisoners or did he treat some of them? I wish I could ask him. I've seen slides of the hospital ship and of fighting near Manila. My father was a prolific amateur photographer and as children we regularly requested a repeat of my father's wartime slide show . . . which, by the way, is how my parents met. My mother went up to speak to my father after he did a slide show of his war photographs at church. Point being , it really stunned me when I realized to that this author's story and my father's may have intersected at some point.

Recommended? Enthusiastically, yes. Read this book if you like reading memoirs, enjoy reading about WWII or can come up with any other excuse (let's face it; we're really good at coming up with excuses to seek out a new book).

Cover thoughts: I love the cover. The Japanese rising sun is bright and eye-catching, barbed wire symbolizes imprisonment and the child's hand makes it clear that the book is about a child's experience. It's really quite perfect, in my opinion.

The Book of Unholy Mischief

by Elle Newmark
Copyright 2008
Atria Books
367 pages
Reviewed by Nancy Horner

Before I review this book, I must mention that the author's website is fabulous. And, if that isn't enough to convince you to visit . . . there's a Dark Chocolate Mousse recipe. Wait! Read the book review before you go off to read recipes, though. I'm not trying to get rid of you.

Now, look at that cover. Doesn't it take your breath away? Even if you're not interested in the story, please walk into a bookstore and take a gander at the whole tamale. The cover of The Book of Unholy Mischief is even more beautiful than you might imagine, with that lovely design extending all the way across the slip cover and gorgeous end papers illustrated with painted mounds of beautiful food inside the hard binding. Actually, I think it would be really hilarious if several hundred people went into bookstores across the country to feel up this book and then told their book dealers, "It's all Bookfool's fault." I'm just thinking with my fingertips.

The Book of Unholy Mischief tells the story of Luciano, an orphaned boy living in the streets of Venice during the Middle Ages. Whilst eating a stolen pomegranate, Luciano is pulled aside by a chef by the name of Ferrero, who takes him off the street, cleans him up and puts him to work in the palace kitchen. As Luciano is swept into the workings of the aromatic kitchen, an intrigue is brewing. Rumors about an ancient book hidden in Venice are growing wilder and life is becoming more dangerous. What is in this mysterious book that people are willing to kill to obtain? And, why was Luciano chosen to work in the kitchen, rather than some other street urchin? What will become of Luciano's starving friends?

The Book of Unholy Mischief is partly a mystery about the missing book, but more than anything it's Luciano's story. It's written in reflection, as he remembers the madness of his time in the doge's kitchen, his love for a young nun named Francesca, his struggles to unravel the mystery on his own while taking care to surreptitiously spirit away scraps of food for his friends. The most outstanding feature of the book is that it's loaded with the senses. Chef Ferrero's cooking is described in steamy detail; you can almost smell and taste his creations.

At the beginning of the story, I actually felt a little burdened by that same depth of detail. I wanted to know about the mystery and sometimes thought, "Just get on with it!" But, there was never a point at which I felt like not sticking it out and the further I got into the story, the more the descriptions (particularly those of the cooking process) intrigued and delighted me. Luciano and Chef Ferrero are wonderful characters. I cared about them and wanted to know what was going to happen. The ending is pretty much spelled out about two-thirds of the way through and what the author revealed wasn't a problem for this reader. I liked the fact that Newmark forewarned readers of what was to come and I found the closing pages of the book immensely satisfying.

Also . . . this is strange . . . Newmark's food descriptions are so tempting and she made cooking sound like such a joy that reading The Book of Unholy Mischief made me want to become a chef. That's particularly odd because if you've read my blog much you'll know that I'm a survivalist cook. If I have to feed myself and my son, I whip something up and get the heck out of the kitchen as quickly as possible. This book reminded me that before I ended up in my current home, I really did enjoy cooking at times. My distaste for our poky little windowless kitchen has led to some serious avoidance, but after reading The Book of Unholy Mischief I was ready to hop a plane to Italy to take one of those 4-day cooking courses. Weird, but a nice off-shoot of the reading.

The mystery in this book is mild, but the assault on the senses is so marvelous that I'd recommend reading it for the experience alone. Since it takes place in the 1498, everything is graphic. When Luciano's stomach is aching with emptiness, you feel his pain. There are violent moments and plenty of horrors in addition to the tempting food scenes. I have a distaste for violence but I never felt totally overwhelmed, although there are some scenes that made me cringe.

It's been nearly a week since I closed the book and it's still sticking with me. I can easily place myself back in the doge's kitchen, in a dark and damp alley or behind a door, watching the wealthy eat and drink their fabulous meals. The more I think about it, the stronger the thought that I want to put that lovely book on my shelf and reread it, even though my initial sense was, "I liked it but I didn't love it." If I were to have rated the book as I closed it, I probably would have given it an "above average" rating of 3.5/5. Now, having reflected a little, I'd give it a 4/5, simply because I liked that unusual stirring of desire to cook and would like to revisit the feeling. Also, I really liked Luciano. He's a great character. I'm really looking forward to seeing what Elle Newmark comes up with, next.

Have you read a novel or cookbook that compelled you to create in the kitchen? If so, please share the title and author's name with me. I'd like to read more books like The Book of Unholy Mischief.

You can find more about Elle Newmark at her website.

Daylight Runner

by Oisin Mcgann
Eos
Reviewed by Nancy Horner

Daylight Runner (originally published as Small-Minded Giants) tells the story of Solomon Wheat. Sol and his father live in a huge, domed city called Ash Harbor, a haven built into the crater of a volcano when Earth was plunged into an Ice Age toward the end of the 21st Century. Over 100 years have passed since Ash Harbor was established, and things aren't running as smoothly as they used to.

When teenage Sol's father disappears after being accused of murder and two strangers attack the teen in his apartment, Sol goes in search of his father. But, asking too many questions in Ash Harbor is dangerous. The entire city is powered by the Machine and there is talk that the Machine is protected by dangerous people known as the Clockworkers. With all of its residents dependent upon the Machine, those who control Ash Harbor's energy possess enormous power.

Suspicious accidents and disappearances along with posts about impending doom placed on the web by a small band of rebels stir up discontent among citizens. But, are the rumors enough to promote change? As Sol searches for the truth about his father, with the help of a frightening ally who claims to be a friend of Sol's father, Gregor Wheat, Sol and his friend Cleo discover that not only their lives are in danger, but the entire city may be on the verge of disaster. Forced to run for their lives, Sol and Cleo decide the only way out is to come up with a plan. But, the Clockworkers are ever-present and time is running out.

Wow. Daylight Runner is one heck of a ride. Once Sol realizes his father is missing -- accused of a murder Sol is sure he would not have committed -- and Sol is swept up in the deadly game of unraveling the mystery of his father's disappearance, there is almost no time to breathe. Sol ends up with a truly scary, possibly psychopathic man named Maslow helping him navigate the underground and rooftops of the city. Eventually, Cleo is swept into the life-threatening intrigue when she tries to help Sol dig for answers.

What I loved about the book is that it was packed with action and I liked the characters. It was easy to root for them. There are a few characters, including Maslow, who fit into a gray area. You never know whether they're truly good or bad guys until the end. The Machine is a rather complex thing and it took me a while to grasp the idea of a world in which trams are carried by cranes. Somehow that didn't seem very futuristic to me. But, eventually, the author explains how the movement of people, trams, and automobiles is all a part of the working of the Machine that keeps them alive. Everything is perfectly balanced. The world of Ash Harbor is really an amazing, fascinating creation.

On the other hand, I didn't love that Daylight Runner is loaded with violence and Cleo is a drug user. Sol has no choice but to kill in self-defense, Cleo is willing to take risks to get her hands on some "stem" to smoke . . . it's horrifying, at times, although I think every little bit of what happens feeds so well into the plot that it's hard to criticize. There were times I wished something good would happen so that as a reader I could have a bit of a breather from the intensity level, but as I closed the book it just seemed to me that the storyline worked brilliantly and any soft moments thrown into the mix might have actually ruined the ominous atmosphere.

In general, Daylight Runner is such a breathtaking thrill ride that I highly recommend it. But, do be aware of the violence and intensity level if you're considering acquiring this book for a youngster. I'd say high school age is about the minimum (my opinion only). Adults who like sci-fi, fantasy, futuristic and dystopian novels will probably also enjoy it. The world of Ash Harbor is a dark and terrifying place and things keep growing worse until the end -- an ending which I personally found extraordinarily satisfying. Some might think it's wrapped up a little too neatly, but not this reader.

Firsts in One Bookish Little Life

By Nancy Horner, aka Bookfool

How, when and why does anyone become so addicted to books that she takes on the name “Bookfool”? First, I suppose, someone has to teach a little one to become a book fool by reading to her. Because my parents were both readers, I can only assume I was read to from a very young age. I don’t recall a time when books were not a part of my life. But, it’s difficult to pinpoint which book may have first captured my interest. I wrestled with my memory and came up with a few firsts. Here are some I recall -- possibly with accuracy and maybe a bit distorted by memory:

First book I remember my mother reading to me: Are You My Mother? By P. D. Eastman -- As an adult with a brand new baby, this was one of those books I absolutely had to have and rushed out to buy for my own child. Favorite part: “Oh, no!” said the baby bird. “You are not my mother. You are a scary snort!”

First book that was so darned special I had to buy it off eBay: Jiggers by Joy Muchmore Lacey -- The story of a cute little black and white puppy who becomes lost. I was a little afraid of eBay, so my husband politely bought me a copy of the book after I basically bounced around the room because I was so excited to see a cover of it on the internet. My mother had already informed me that she didn’t have “the foggiest idea” what became of my childhood copy. My eBay purchase was sent in a Ziploc bag for protection and I’ve left it that way, almost afraid to touch it, the book is so special.

First book I recall reading repeatedly: There were undoubtedly many books that I read repeatedly as a youngster, but the first book I recall reading so often that little bits of it became a part of my mode of speech was Rosalie: the Bird Market Turtle by Winifred Lubell. My mother did a raucous impression of Rosalie’s talking bird friend, Gaston, calling, “Rosalie! Where’s Rosalie?”

A Little Princess by Frances Hodgson Burnett later became the first book that I read repeatedly on my own. It’s probably notable that it took me at least a couple of decades to convince myself it was okay to watch one of the movie adaptations. And, then, of course I was disappointed. Nothing matches up to the book, which is a wondrous story of courage and imagination.

First youthful genre obsession: The first series of books I recall reading was a set of biographies stocked by my hometown library. They were blue, as I remember it, with a silhouette of each historical figure on the cover, very simply designed. My favorites were the biographies of Ernie Pyle, Clara Barton and Lucretia Mott. Another obsession was cats. I read anything and everything cat-oriented, whether fiction or nonfiction. Unfortunately, I can visualize covers, but the only title I recall is Born Free by Joy Adamson.

First book I recall buying on my own: I remember two early book purchases. One was a total disaster. I adored the movie, “The Sound of Music” and bought a copy of the original book upon which the movie was based at a book sale that took place in my elementary school library. Unfortunately, my sister bought the same book for a Christmas gift and was unable to return it, once she found out I’d purchased my own copy. So she went ahead and wrapped it. That turned out to be a really awkward gift-opening moment. The other book I recall purchasing at a young age was a ten-cent library reject of African folk tales called The Cow-Tail Switch and other stories. It’s a mess, but I still have that book, somewhere.

First time I realized classics can be awesome: The year I climbed up onto my grandmother’s 4-poster bed and read a tiny, leather-bound miniature copy of Romeo and Juliet stands out in my mind. I never had much of an education in literature because journalism was allowed as a substitute for other English courses in my high school and then I took alternates in college, as well (Writing about Film, for example). When I was in my early twenties, I realized I’d read hardly anything at all that could be considered a “classic”, apart from those I sneaked off my sister’s shelf (notably, A Separate Peace by John Knowles and Daddy Long-Legs by Jean Webster). Fortunately for me, the first book I latched onto for my self-imposed foray into classics was Rebecca by Daphne DuMaurier. I stayed up all night.

First published author I heard speak in person: Madeleine L’Engle. A Wrinkle in Time is one of my all-time childhood favorites, so I was thrilled when I heard L’Engle was going to speak at the Woodland Hills library branch in Tulsa. I remember feeling encouraged when she said the only time she didn’t write was during the years that she had “crawling babies” because I was big as a barn at that moment, pregnant with my first child and worried that I’d never find the time to write, again. Unfortunately, she ran out of copies of A Wrinkle in Time before I reached the head of the line (there was quite a crowd), so I have an autographed copy of A Wind in the Door.

There are plenty of other firsts I can think of. One that I shared with Heather is the first book I read to tatters -- my childhood book of fairy tales. Fairy tales were undoubtedly one of the first little crooked fingers beckoning this booklover into incurable bibliophilia. Fortunately, I really love being addicted and plan to continue to change those firsts into little bitty beginnings of heaping helpings of reading material I adore burying myself in each year. It’s good being a book fool.

Queen of the Road

by Doreen Orion
Broadway Books
Review by Nancy Horner

Let me just confess up front: If I sat behind a bench wearing judicial robes, I'd be the one writing all the dissenting opinions.

Now that we've gotten that out of the way, let's move on to the book review. Queen of the Road is a road-trip memoir written by a psychiatrist who works out of her home and, in fact, didn't particularly like leaving her house or even changing out of her pajamas before her husband came up with the idea of traveling the country in a renovated bus. After all the decorating, wiring and other alterations were completed, Orion and her husband (also a psychiatrist) left their home in Boulder, Colorado for a practice run and then packed up and began their year-long journey.

Right off the bat, they discovered that there are some very unique problems that accompany life on a bus. Electrical trouble, the need to secure loose objects, difficulty maneuvering, and concern about the height of overpasses are a few of the challenges they faced. Because they planned to travel for a full year, the couple chose to take their full-size poodle and two cats along for the ride.

I adore travel memoirs and love tales of life on the road. Stories about pets usually warm my heart. So, what's not to like? Honestly? I loved the idea of this book and there are, in fact, things I enjoyed about Queen of the Road. There's the typical "transformation" that takes place in novels, as real-life character Doreen learns to stretch her boundaries and enjoy life. There are the interesting, often funny, anecdotes about people and places. There's the oft-humorous analysis of her anxiety about riding in a very, very lengthy and rather tall vehicle. And, there's the fact that they own pets and love them.

What I didn't like was the lame humor. Queen of the Road is just a bit too snarky and tongue-in-cheek for this gal. I often say I adore humor but it has to be carefully balanced. Too much humor without a break is just as bad as heavy, depressing writing without an uplifting moment. And, that's how I felt about Queen of the Road. I liked Doreen Orion's wit, but as in many memoirs I thought she was a bit wrapped up in the love of her own snide remarks. Had I not balanced the reading of Orion's memoir with several other books, I honestly don't believe I would have gotten through the book at all.

Normally, that could mean it's a timing issue -- simply the wrong book for the moment. However, there are a couple of things that still are ringing around in my head. Most importantly, the fact that the author talked about the irritation of waiting for people to make the same old comment everyone believes to be original (but it's not), a zinger about the fact that she and her husband are both psychiatrists. It was lame, sure, but so were a lot of Orion's wisecracks. If you're going to go around saying, "Pardon me, boys. Is that the Chattanooga Choo-Choo?" to some poor, innocent bellhops who probably hear the same question at least ten times a day because they work next to the Chattanooga Choo-Choo, please do not tell me you can't take other folks' lame jokes.

In general, I'd call this "a fun, slightly above-average read" that's a little heavy on the self-indulgence typical of memoirs and I'd refer to myself as "picky". There are some interesting tales about places to visit and the book includes both a list of "Special Places and People" plus an exciting list for bibliophiles: "Books Enjoyed on the Bus and Beyond". For those who think the book would make a great choice for book club reading, there is also a reading guide included.

Author's blog and Website.

Album of the Damned: Snapshots from the Third Reich

By Paul Garson

Academy Chicago Publishers

Reviewed by Nancy Horner

Album of the Damned is a glossy, beautiful picture book printed on quality paper that smells glorious when you turn its pages. But, it’s not your everyday coffee-table book. The cover of Album of the Damned is enough to stop you in your tracks. A baby wearing the hat of a Nazi officer? That’s the kind of image of Nazi Germany we’re not accustomed to seeing. The most common photos are stark, formal, horrifying -- scenes in which the Germans are obviously the evil overlords, herding Jewish prisoners like cattle at gunpoint or standing stiffly over skeletal prisoners.

Album of the Damned contains a few of the traditional images, but it’s not the typical, cold and formal photograph that is Paul Garson’s focus. Instead, he shows the opposite, the playful, smiling, human side of life as a Nazi. Open the book and the first photo you’ll see is a grinning, dimpled man in Nazi uniform and greatcoat, reaching out as if to shake the photographer’s hand, block the lens or make a thumbs-up gesture. Behind him stands another Nazi with a curious look, a third saluting and smiling. Below the photo, the author’s words: “Welcome to the Third Reich”. A quote by Christopher Browning, author of Ordinary Men: Reserve Battalion 101 and the Final Solution in Poland reminds the reader that, “Explaining is not excusing . . .”

The 400 photographs in Album of the Damned are merely a small selection of the many photos Garson has collected. Most came from private photo albums and were taken by both soldiers and civilians. They were purchased by the author after he developed a private obsession that led him to collect entire albums, individual photos, personal letters, documents and newsreels. An extensive bibliography at the end of the book gives you an idea how much time and research went into the writing of Album’s text, which sometimes describes the photos but also leads the reader through the process of the growing Nazi mentality and its results -- begun by a few radicals, eventually to take over the minds and hearts of most Germans and those in many in other European nations. A few of the photos are professional photographs, but the vast majority are casual, informal photos of friends and family.

And, it’s that informality that leaves the reader stunned. Text describes how those relaxed happy people spent their working hours -- rounding up people considered inferior or dangerous in some way, guarding them as they were worked at slave labor on only 350 calories worth of food, lining them up against the wall and shooting them or leading them to gas chambers . . . then, going home to play with the kids or gathering for drinks and laughs. It’s that contrast between smiling faces in bathing suits or at sumptuous tables compared with the harsh reality of their murderous daily lives that shocks.

The book contains a timeline and is then divided into four parts, with an introductory section, “In the Beginning,” followed by “Part One: The Homefront”, “Part Two: Prelude to War” and “Part Three: The Battlefront”. The author adds a disclaimer reminding readers that the “accompanying text makes no claims at covering the subject matter in any complete manner” and that he “chose photos that ‘spoke’ to me and let them lead me where they would.” His interpretation of a few specific photos didn’t necessarily jibe with my own, but I understood his drift. The author’s objective was to show, through those photographs, how ordinary people can be indoctrinated into dangerous beliefs of superiority.

Through carefully written text and the chosen photos, Garson leads the reader to a deeper understanding of life as a Nazi and how all-encompassing the Nazi world became. A photo of a pre-Nazi children’s club is shown, followed by photos of boys in the Hitler Youth and young girls in the League of German Girls. A sample from a young girl’s letter shows how completely she was immersed in the thought that Jews were sub-human. Nazis are shown alternately cuddling animals and shooting them or horsing around with them. In one photo, two Nazis stand by as a man is attacked by their dogs.

Among my favorites:

• A photo of a happy young couple at their wedding, swastikas hanging over the altar behind them.
• A pair of portraits of a middle-aged couple. In the top photo, a wife stands behind a small balcony table, smiling as her husband intently reads Mein Kampf. In the bottom photo, the same couple at the same table, she pouring tea for her husband, who is now dressed in a Nazi uniform.
• Two photos of a tree stump with a hidden door carved into its side. In the first photo, a Nazi enters the door; in the second, the door is closed and one realizes the ingenuity and horror of this hidden sniper look-out.

The photos gradually become more graphic and disarming. Album of the Damned is not the kind of book you leave out where young children can flip through it. But, it’s the sort of book we all need to read -- a stark reminder of how easily people can become swayed into believing that one race or religion is superior to another, a memo to humans that evil may begin as a tiny germ and grow into a plague, a note to look about us and see that we haven’t necessarily learned the lesson the Nazis taught us.

Read more about the book here.

An Irish Country Doctor/An Irish Country Village

by Patrick Taylor
Published by Forge
Review by Nancy Horner

There were two characteristics in the description of An Irish Country Village that appealed to me when I found out a copy was available for review. First, the word “Irish”. I tend to love Irish storytelling and was in the mood to take an armchair trip to Ireland. Second, the comparison to series books such as those written by Jan Karon and James Herriot. I haven’t read anything at all by Karon, but I know both authors are known for their gentle stories of life with a unique cast of characters who live and work in a small village. As often as possible, I try to avoid harsh language, overt sexuality and violence, so the book sounded like my cup of tea. And, I adore Herriot’s books.

An Irish Country Village is the second in a series of books about two doctors working in Ballybucklebo, a small village in Northern Ireland. Set during the 1960s, the story takes up where An Irish Country Doctor left off, with young doctor Barry Laverty beginning his assistantship under the blustery Dr. Fingal Flahertie O’Reilly. In the previous book, Dr. Laverty made a mistake that is coming back to potentially haunt him.

I read about 50 pages of An Irish Country Village before realizing that I simply didn’t have a grip on the characters. What kind of interaction went on between them in the beginning? What was their history, together and as individuals? What exactly were the details of the error Laverty made in the first book? The book might stand alone okay, but not extremely well. I needed to understand where they were coming from in order to comprehend the emotions and interactions within the novel. So, I set An Irish Country Village aside and checked out An Irish Country Doctor from my local library.

Ah, that did it. An Irish Country Doctor begins, so to speak, at the beginning, as Dr. Laverty tries locate the village and has to ask directions from a young man on a bicycle, a fellow for whom the information that Laverty is going to work for Dr. O’Reilly prompts a strange reaction. Is Dr. O’Reilly frightening? Dangerous? What did that look of fear and possibly respect that crossed the cyclist’s face mean? I was hooked immediately.

As An Irish Country Doctor progresses, the reader learns about the histories of Dr. O’Reilly and his housekeeper, “Kinky” (Mrs. Kinkaid) while Dr. Laverty slowly adjusts to village life, gets to know the patients and falls madly in love with a beautiful young civil engineering student whom he meets on a train. The elder doctor O’Reilly is an eccentric man with a beer-drinking dog, a crazed cat and occasionally offbeat, deceptive manner but the best of intentions. The dog and cat are well-described, fun characters and I found that I enjoyed scenes with the two pets were usually favorites.

O’Reilly and Laverty have a game in which they try to prove their literary knowledge; one doctor spouts quotes and the other responds by blurting out the source. I found that particular aspect of the book annoying and rather childish. There were times, too, that I really thought Dr. O’Reilly’s deliberate dishonesty went over the line. I’m pretty certain I wouldn’t want him to be my doctor. And, yet, I tried to overlook the characteristics I disliked and just enjoy the setting, the unique language and the stories.

During a moment of distraction, Laverty does make a terrible error in An Irish Country Doctor, but the first book closes on a high note as a party is thrown for a young couple and their new baby, soon to leave for a new life in America.

An Irish Country Village is much the same, focusing on the unique characters, Laverty’s love life, the everyday business of doctoring and the ways Dr. O’Reilly connives to keep the lives of villagers running smoothly. There are a few tense moments during medical crises in each book. But, it’s the colorful Irish slang, the two crazed animals and the country characters that make the two novels unique and special. Fortunately, the author has provided a glossary in both books and even a few recipes from Mrs. Kinkaid.

Both books are enjoyable, light reads with just a little mildly yucky detail about patients, a wee bit of cursing and a tiny bit of sex. Recommended for light, fairly clean reading with quirky characters and a great sense of place. I believe it’s important to become acquainted with the characters in the An Irish Country Doctor in order to fully understand and relate to their continuing story in An Irish Country Village.

Life Class

Life Class
Written by Pat Barker
Doubleday
Reviewed by Nancy L. Horner

Life Class is a tale of art, romance, and survival during a time of war. As an introduction to Barker's writing, Life Class is probably not stellar. Barker is known for her Regeneration Trilogy, also set during WWI. The Ghost Road, the third in the trilogy, garnered her a Booker Prize and I've personally read enough about the trilogy that Regeneration is sitting on a shelf, waiting to be read. I was well aware that I was opening a book by an author with skill. The stinging question for any reader or writer following up a work considered "a masterwork . . . complex and ambitious," must always be: "Can it be duplicated? Will the master retain his or her glory?"

Because I haven't read Pat Barker's Regeneration Trilogy (or, for that matter, any of her other work), Life Class had to stand as an individual work by an author whose previous work was only known to me peripherally, without basis for comparison apart from what I've read about the author and her writing.

As Life Class opens, the story revolves around a community of artists, a model in "life class" (painting or sketching with the use of a live, nude model), and a teacher by the name of Tonks. According to the author's acknowledgments, Tonks actually existed. A stern instructor and perfectionist in the art of form, the former surgeon had the capacity to make or break an artist under his tutelage.

And, thus begins the story of Paul Tarrant. Paul experiences a scathing criticism from Tonks, which causes him to reconsider his decision to spend his grandmother's money on an education at the Slade School of Fine Art in London. Meanwhile, Paul admires fellow student Elinor from a distance, but Elinor appears disinterested in Paul apart from friendship and is, from all accounts, deeply involved with Kit Neville. Kit, a former Slade student who has prospered in the art world in spite of being kicked out of the Slade, is confident in a way Paul wishes to be.

Elinor introduces Paul to Teresa, a life class model who is married but separated from her abusive husband. Paul and Teresa launch into a careless affair and at this point -- close to the beginning -- the story begins to sag. Thinking her dramatic, Paul doesn't take Teresa's warnings about her dangerous husband Jack's threats and his proximity seriously until he has a shocking encounter with Jack. The fallout, however, is minimal.

And, here I must make a departure. There were several occasions during Paul and Teresa's torrid affair that I found jarring by comparison with otherwise engaging writing. It was not, however, the language of their first graphic sexual encounter (which, quite frankly, I would describe as pornographic) but the fact that the course language was ill-suited to the beauty of the author's prose at other times that I found startling. In fact, the aim of the novel appears to be, at least in part, to contrast the beautiful and the base, the violent and the peaceful. If so, the author definitely did a fine job illuminating such contrasts.

Regardless of the intent of specific language, the shallowness of the characters unnerved me. Paul was flat, lifeless and emotionally absent, whereas Teresa appeared to be little more than a directionless escapist who moved seamlessly from one male encounter to another.

Elinor's role eventually grew and as her true character was exposed, she proved to be equally shallow. Kit was the only particularly likeable, enthusiastic character, but his appearances dwindled and he was never portrayed with any depth.

WWI, Barker's area of expertise, actually doesn't become a major part of Life Class until roughly halfway into the novel, when Paul and the other young male characters express their intent to enlist and thus become players in the unavoidable conflict. When both Paul and Kit are shipped off to Belgium, the novel begins to change tone, shifting from letters between Paul and Elinor to narrative in alternating chapters. The story improves, at this point, as Barker shows off her knowledge of WWI -- often by way of vivid, even gruesome, detail contrasted with the tranquility sought by Elinor as she immerses herself in painting (her "work") and attempts to shut herself away from the truth of unfolding war so completely that she appears cold and heartless.

Barker's writing is peppered with flashes of brilliance, but the characters in Life Class were disappointing. As I read, I often stopped to reread a beautifully crafted sentence slowly and then read it again. And, yet, the characters were so unlikeable that I set the book down with a hollow feeling. Besides the contrasts, Barker's story attempted to show that love and art can and should continue despite unfolding tragedy. However, the theme would perhaps have been better served via a set of characters who could see beyond their own obsessions.

Although I found the book disappointing, Pat Barker impressed me with her style enough that I will give her a second chance, next time by dipping into the first of her Regeneration series.

An excerpt of Life Class can be found at http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=19255881

Cotillion

Cotillion
Written by Georgette Heyer
Sourcebooks Casablanca
Reviewed by Nancy L. Horner

It was seldom that Mr. Standen, a peace-loving young gentleman, was conscious of a wish to come to blows with his fellowmen, but a wistful desire to land his cousin a facer did for an instant flicker in his mind. Several circumstances rendered the gratification of this impulse ineligible, chief amongst them being the hallowed precincts in which they both stood, and the melancholy certainty that such violence could only lead to his own discomfiture. (pg. 113)

Numerous recommendations, around a dozen years of hearing Georgette Heyer’s name bandied about as the Queen of Regency-era Romance and a couple of unread acquisitions . . . oh, brother. I know you’ve heard this one, before, but there are times when an avid reader hears so much about a particular author that he or she becomes absolutely paralyzed by the terror of potentially hating an author everyone else seems to love. Such was my fear of Georgette Heyer, in spite of the fact that I pride myself both in reading a wide variety of books and in trying diligently to read a greater number of new authors than repeats.

Cotillion finally tempted me into the actual reading of a Heyer novel; and, yes, it was rough going, at first. I had far too many expectations without any real understanding of where the adoration was coming from. As a person who is only a sometimes-reader of romance novels, there was also the fear that Heyer would turn out to be “just another romance writer.” I’ve actually written and published an article defending the modern romantic novel from its vehement detractors; and, yet I still find myself cringing away from romance.

I will never, however, fear Georgette Heyer, again. In spite of the fact that the Regency lingo is dense enough that I found myself wishing I had a lexicon of Regency terminology or an expert Regency linguist on-hand, there was no disguising the fact that Cotillion was a compelling story with loveable, clueless, charming, often downright hilarious characters.

Cotillion tells the story of Kitty Charing. Reared by Mr. Penicuik, the temperamental guardian to whom she may or may not be directly related, Kitty is offered the sole inheritance of his vast fortune on the condition that she must marry one of his great-nephews.

Long enamored with Jack, the handsomest of the lot, Kitty hatches a plan when Jack fails to arrive for Mr. Penicuik’s announcement and misses the opportunity to offer to marry her. Freddy is not bad-looking and he’s immensely wealthy. Knowing he has no interest in going through with a marriage to Kitty, she asks him to join in on a sham engagement that will afford her ample time away from the dreary estate where she’s spent the bulk of her life, Arnside House, as well as an opportunity to see London and (she hopes) the chance to tempt Jack into a genuine betrothal.

Freddy reluctantly agrees to her plan, with Kitty’s reassurance that she will not hold him to marriage. Freddy and Kitty have long been friends, but he’s certainly not ready to settle down to married life. And, off they go to London.

This is, of course, the point at which the novel could have become trite, thus amplifying evidence of the author’s skill when the book took the opposite turn. While the language of the book continued to be annoyingly dense with so-called “Regency speak” (see “Regency Language, a Primer” by Diane Farr: http://www.likesbooks.com/regencyspeak.html), the story was often surprising and certainly not as predictable as expected. The heart of the story lay in the question of whether or not Kitty would be thrust into Jack’s path and Jack, a confirmed rake, would turn out to be a less objectionable character than anticipated -- or, at the very least, willing to reform in light of her obvious affection. And, what about Freddy? Might he change his mind about marrying and fall in love with Kitty?

The true joy of a romance novel, avid romance readers insist, is the “happily ever after” ending that the vast majority of detractors scorn. My opinion rests -- a happy ending is an upper, but it’s the path to that ending that makes or breaks a novel. The finest romance novelists are simply good storytellers, able to conjure creative twists and turns that nullify the complaint that romance is too pattern-oriented. Yes, there’s always a happy ending; that is, after all, what dedicated romance readers love. Cotillion ends happily, as anticipated. While I won’t tell you who Kitty ends up with, nor that the eventual ending was all that surprising, I can offer the fact that Heyer wove an enthralling tale with interesting subplots, some situations that caught me off-guard, and a lot of smiles. I look forward to reading more of Heyer’s novels in the future. Fortunately, she wrote a large number during her lengthy career.

Cotillion is a reprint, originally published in 1953.

Powers

Powers
by Ursula K. Le Guin
Harcourt Books Young Adult Fantasy
Review by Nancy L. Horner

“I could make my city of free men, but what’s the good of freedom to the ignorant? What’s freedom itself but the power of the mind to learn what it needs and think what it likes? Ah, even if your body’s chained, if you have the thoughts of the philosophers and the words of the poets in your head, you can be free of your chains, and walk among the great!” [p.265]

Gavir and Sallo, brother and sister, were taken from the Marsh Land and made slaves in the house of Arcamand while quite young. Powers begins when Gav is 11 and Sallo 13. Raised in the city of Etra with the children of both the Arcamand house and the other young slaves of Arcamand, they are schooled for specific purposes and lead a comfortable, fairly privileged life for slaves.

Gavir has two special powers: a photographic memory and the ability to see into the future. However, he often confuses real memories with “remembered” visions of the future and Sallo wisely advises him not to tell anyone about this special gift, knowing it will make him even more outcast than he already is, as a slave and scholar.

When tragedy strikes, Gav realizes that he has been raised to trust but can only expect betrayal in slavery and runs away to find his people, his freedom, hopefully the ability to control his special powers. So begins a young adult saga that is often slow but becomes more addictive with each step of the hero’s journey.

Fantasies are not a typical genre read for me, and my reasoning is probably a little strange: an entire set of unusual names tend to annoy me, particularly if they’re long and it’s difficult to figure out how to pronounce them, thus slowing down the reading. That’s irritating to me and detracts from my enjoyment level. I read a pretty wide variety, though, and I’m always willing to try something new. Ursula Le Guin has been on my mental list of authors to someday give a whirl and I will always jump at the chance to review a book written by a known name whose work I haven’t yet read.

Powers was a decent novel to begin with. I had a difficult time getting into this story, at first, because it’s an epic and things happen slowly, although it can be exciting, at times. There is also a large “cast” and when I found a page in which the children were all described briefly within only a few paragraphs, I marked the page for frequent returns. Having a quick reference to the original characters (many more are introduced throughout Gav’s travels) as well as a map upon which to trace the hero’s path --which is included within the opening pages-- was not so much helpful as necessary. Otherwise, I would have been lost. I should add that the names are simple and the pronunciation obvious; there are simply a large number of them.

Once I reached the point that I had a guide to help me with the characters, the reading improved, but Powers is never a quick-paced novel. There are tense moments and danger is often at Gav’s heels. There is also a great deal of detail of everyday life in the unique fantasy world in which Powers is set. Those who are accustomed to fantasy may find that the book is typical; I can’t say, since I’ve read very few. All I can tell you is that I liked Gav and I found his world very believable. During times of tragedy, it was easy to empathize with the hero; to understand his emotions and motivation came naturally. In the emotional build-up, the creativity of a believable world, and comfortable dialogue, the author showed exceptional skill.

Powers is a young adult novel with some very grown-up themes and best suited to older teenager and adults, in my opinion. Beautifully written, slowly but steadily paced and worth the time. I consider it a slightly above-average read only because I personally prefer a story that moves more quickly, but for those who love fantasy, thick books, epics and drama, Powers is excellent.

Snazzy Stuff

The ultimate in reading locations! All your favorite books, a mere arms' reach away. Does it really get any better than this, the Bibliochaise?

Lottery

Lottery
Written by Patricia Wood
G. P. Putnam’s Sons
Reviewed by Nancy L. Horner

The man chews his cigar, looks at his watch, squeezes his fender, and talks to Gary, all at the same time. “I need to get to the San Juans . . . Friday Harbor . . . Three weeks vacation . . . Can we speed this up?” he asks. “I need to get going.” He looks at his watch, again.

Vacations are when you stop being in a hurry to go to work and start being in a hurry to go someplace else.

Lottery is the story of Perry L. Crandall, a caring and sensitive man with an IQ of 76. The L in his name, his Gram tells him, stands for “Lucky”. When Perry proves his luck by winning the Washington State Lottery, suddenly his life changes dramatically. People who were unwilling to look him in the eye now boldly ask him for money, the family members who ignored him suddenly become concerned about his well-being and clerks treat him with obsequiousness during shopping trips. But, will Perry be able to handle his windfall or is the fact that he’s slower than average likely to become his undoing?

Because Lottery is written from Perry’s point of view, there’s a simplicity and power to the story. The reader knows how Perry thinks and what’s important to him, feels the pain of condescension and insult, becomes angry at the way people speak within his hearing, assuming that he’s unable to translate their plots to take advantage of him. There’s an immediacy to the story, a feeling that one must keep rapidly turning the pages because Perry is such a delightful character that the reader absolutely must know what’s going to occur.

In fact, Perry has difficulty remembering and understanding certain concepts, but throughout the reading of Lottery the reader gains an understanding of how meaningless an intelligence quotient really is. Perry has his own brand of wisdom and is intelligent in many ways. His translations of the implication within spoken words reflects an ability to observe and reason. Because he reads from a dictionary and takes notes, each day, Perry develops a deeper comprehension of words and their varying definitions than most of the people around him.

When the story opens, Perry has been working at Holsted’s Marine Supply in Everett, Washington for many years. His late grandfather taught him to sail and Perry knows boats and their requirements better than the other employees and often even his boss; his Gram spouts bits of wisdom and bolsters his self-confidence. When she thinks he’s out of line, she says, “Don’t be smart.” Friends Keith and Gary -- Perry’s fellow employee and employer -- along with his Gram, treat him with the respect that nobody else offers him.

By the time Perry wins the lottery, the reader is intimately acquainted with Perry, enough to know which of his acquaintances are true friends and who will steal from him if given the chance. What the reader doesn’t know is how Perry will handle the threats and opportunities around him.

Even while I was madly turning pages as I read this novel -- a book that I could barely stand to put down the night I began reading and snatched up the moment I had time to read, the next day -- I feared that the predictable course would unfold. Perry is a warm, generous and kind-hearted character that you can’t help but root for and fall in love with. It’s only natural to want the best to happen and to fear the fate that seems inevitable when his family swoops in and attempts to fleece him.

To avoid spoiling the novel, I can only say that the entire book was full of pleasant surprises, cringe-inducing moments, smiles and tears. Lottery is an involving book -- emotional on many levels. I laughed, I cried, I loved Lottery. Since I closed the book, nearly two weeks ago, I’ve observed that I often hear Perry’s voice when I see something awe-inspiring and remember his oft-repeated words, “That is so cool!”

In the author’s introductory note, she describes the background of Lottery and her “need to write a compelling story that people will listen to, remember, and learn from.” Did she succeed? Absolutely. Perry L. Crandall is a character I plan to revisit, both for his and his Gram’s unique brand of wisdom. Is the novel compelling? Definitely. Did I learn from the story? No doubt about it. Author Patricia Wood succeeded on all levels and I hope that she’ll publish a second novel very soon.

Lottery

Lottery
Written by Patricia Wood
G. P. Putnam’s Sons
Reviewed by Nancy L. Horner

The man chews his cigar, looks at his watch, squeezes his fender, and talks to Gary, all at the same time. “I need to get to the San Juans . . . Friday Harbor . . . Three weeks vacation . . . Can we speed this up?” he asks. “I need to get going.” He looks at his watch, again.

Vacations are when you stop being in a hurry to go to work and start being in a hurry to go someplace else.

Lottery is the story of Perry L. Crandall, a caring and sensitive man with an IQ of 76. The L in his name, his Gram tells him, stands for “Lucky”. When Perry proves his luck by winning the Washington State Lottery, suddenly his life changes dramatically. People who were unwilling to look at him in the eye now boldly ask him for money, the family members who ignored him suddenly become concerned about his well-being and clerks treat him with obsequiousness during shopping trips. But, will Perry be able to handle his windfall or is the fact that he’s slower than average likely to become his undoing?

Because Lottery is written from Perry’s point of view, there’s a simplicity and power to the story. The reader knows how Perry thinks and what’s important to him, feels the pain of condescension and insult, becomes angry at the way people speak within his hearing, assuming that he’s unable to translate their plots to take advantage of him. There’s an immediacy to the story, a feeling that one must keep rapidly turning the pages because Perry is such a delightful character that the reader absolutely must know what’s going to occur.

In fact, Perry has difficulty remembering and understanding certain concepts, but throughout the reading of Lottery the reader gains an understanding of how meaningless intelligence quotient really is. Perry has his own brand of wisdom and is intelligent in many ways. His translations of the implication within spoken words reflects an ability to observe and reason. Because he reads from a dictionary and takes notes, each day, Perry has developed a deeper comprehension of words and their varying definitions than most of the people around him.

When the story opens, Perry has been working at Holsted’s Marine Supply in Everett, Washington for many years. His late grandfather taught him to sail and Perry knows boats and their requirements better than the other employees and often even his boss; his Gram spouts bits of wisdom and bolsters his self-confidence. When she thinks he’s out of line, she says, “Don’t be smart.” Friends Keith and Gary -- Perry’s fellow employee and employer -- along with his Gram, treat him with the respect that nobody else offers him.

By the time Perry wins the lottery, the reader is intimately acquainted with Perry, enough to know which of his acquaintances are true friends and who will steal from him if given the chance. What the reader doesn’t know is how Perry will handle the threats and opportunities around him.

Even while I was madly turning pages as I read this novel -- a book that I could barely stand to put down the night I began reading and snatched up the moment I had time to read, the next day -- I feared that the predictable course would unfold. Perry is a warm, generous and kind-hearted character that you can’t help but root for and fall in love with. It’s only natural to want the best to happen and to fear the fate that seems inevitable when his family swoops in and attempts to fleece him.

To avoid spoiling the novel, I can only say that the entire book was full of pleasant surprises, cringe-inducing moments, smiles and tears. Lottery is an involving book -- emotional on many levels. I laughed, I cried, I loved Lottery. Since I closed the book, nearly two weeks ago, I’ve observed that I often hear Perry’s voice when I see something awe-inspiring and remember his oft-repeated words, “That is so cool!”

In the author’s introductory note, she describes the background of Lottery and her “need to write a compelling story that people will listen to, remember, and learn from.” Did she succeed? Absolutely. Perry L. Crandall is a character I plan to revisit, both for his and his Gram’s unique brand of wisdom. Is the novel compelling? Definitely. Did I learn from the story? No doubt about it. Author Patricia Wood succeeded on all levels and I hope that she’ll publish a second novel very soon.

Confessions of a Hopeless Book Addict (Photo Essay)

By Nancy L. Horner

I’m not really a big spender - my cars are all budget variety and my house isn’t super-sized. Designer name tags don’t appeal to me. But, I do have a vice, a horrible addiction, an obsession, a weakness . . . perhaps even a compulsion: books. I am hopelessly addicted to acquiring books. I love the feel, the look, and the smell of books. It warms my heart to be surrounded by them. Shelves of books make my heart go pitty-pat, stacks of them make me feel at home. There is nothing that makes a home look warmer and friendlier inside, in fact, than shelves or piles of books, in my humble opinion. Boy, is it warm in this house.

I confess. I am a bookaholic.

Here’s the real problem. I can confess till the cows come home, but ask me if I want to be reformed. Well? Do I? Uh, no, I’m fine with it. I’m fine with the haphazard piles of books on the floor, the crammed (sometimes double-layered) shelves that line almost every wall, the lack of floor space - okay, I’d like more floor space, but not if it means parting with the books I haven’t read (or the ones I’m certain I’ll reread). I’m even willing to live with the sore toes caused by the occasional book avalanche.

Yes, it’s true. We have book avalanches in this house. Admittedly, I’m a klutz. I often have a sore toe because - get this - I have an old college toe injury that sometimes acts up. But, half the problem with my frequent toe pain is book stubbings. Ouch. Books have sharp corners and they’re heavy when they fall. If you’re totally obsessed with books, to the point that they’re piled willy-nilly in every room . . . let’s face it; you’re going to have a few run-ins, if your balance isn’t remarkably fine-tuned.

Just this once, I’m going to provide photographic evidence of my addiction. If you’re related to me, kindly avert your eyes and remember that I have managed to rear two very well-read boys without either of them having any serious book accidents.

An unexpected (and insistent) visitor amongst the stacks.

A "clear" view of the books in the office floor.

The back of the futon . . . just in case I ever get locked out of every other room in the house. It wouldn't do not to have some reading material handy.

This is so scary.

My closet shelf - books and a yoga mat guarded by burglars. Yeesh.

I even hide my books. Note that there are two copies of The Queen's Fool (I'm pretty sure I meant to send one to my mother . . . oops) and a very ironic title - No More Clutter. Oh, so that's how you de-clutter. Hide some of the books within a cabinet or two.

This is so embarrassing . . . I've even "borrowed" some of the shelf space in my son's room.

Voyage

Voyage
Written by Adele Geras
Harcourt, Inc.
Reviewed by Nancy L. Horner

Rachel couldn't sleep. The throbbing of the engines just below them, the creaking of old wood as the ship rolled over the water, snores, muffled tears and sniffs, crying children--they stopped her from sleeping. Some people slept: Mina, with her long, red hair hanging over the edge of the bunk; that nice, gentle Mr. Kaminsky, who, it was whispered, had survived the terrible pogrom in Kishinev, and who was setting out for America with a sack full of books and very little else; even Golda. And more surprisingly, Golda's baby. Rachel stared at the boards of the bunk above her. She couldn't see if her father was asleep. Did he dream dreams? I am frightened of my dreams, Rachel thought. I don't want to sleep because I am frightened of what I might see.

The year is 1904 and people are traveling to the United States in droves. Voyage tells the story of one group of Eastern European immigrants traveling across the Atlantic in steerage, willing to face miserable conditions in a dirty, overcrowded compartment for the chance to begin a new life. Each of the passengers in Voyage has his or her own reasons for emigrating: a family travels to join a father who has already moved to America and found a job; an elderly man who has survived the traumatic loss of his family goes to join his nephew; a young woman and her baby will be reunited with husband and father; a teenager whose parents have died escapes an arranged marriage. There’s a large cast of characters with a variety of reasons for moving to the U.S.

Throughout the journey, the passengers face hunger and thirst, calm and storms, illness and danger while dealing with the personalities and the growing stench of their fellow travelers. Their individual stories are told by way of thoughts and dialogue. As the journey progresses, the characters’ histories and plans slowly unfold, friendships develop, tempers flare and romance blossoms.

Voyage is a young adult novel, originally published in Great Britain in 1983. At a mere 145 pages, it’s surprising that the author managed to successfully reveal the histories of such a substantial number of characters. So many young women are introduced in the first few pages, in fact, that I felt compelled to write a list of characters to help differentiate between them. But, the further I read, the more distinctive the cast became. It grew more and more difficult to put the book down as I was swept into their lives.


Probably the biggest disappointment about the book is that Voyage only tells about the journey across the ocean. The reader is introduced to the passengers at the beginning of their passage on the fictional SS Danzig and it ends as they approach the United States with the Statue of Liberty in view. I would have much preferred a longer book that described their arrival and experiences as they met up with friends and loved ones or set out on their own to forge their new lives, rather than having to close the book and part with the characters before they reached shore. Voyage is, however, an excellent glimpse into an important part of American history that is often described merely in passing and gives the reader a feel for what this type of journey must have been like. Author Adele Geras nicely evokes all the senses; even the cover of the book helps set the scene. Voyage would make a particularly good addition to a history unit, but stands well on its own as an enjoyable work of fiction.

Author’s Website: http://www.adelegeras.com/