Does the Dog Die? A Brief Review of Year of Wonders, by Geraldine Brooks

Let’s get the snark out of the way: This is the best book about the plague I’ve ever read.

in fact, it’s an excellent book, I highly recommend it, and it will be among the books I suggest for my book group to read for next time. Based on real-life events in the remote English village of Eyam in 1665, Year of Wonders describes the fate of the villagers after they decide to isolate themselves in order to avoid spreading the disease to others. The protagonist, a housemaid named Anna, joins with Elinor, the wife of the town’s minister, in reconstructing the craft of two murdered herbalists in an attempt to determine how best to care for the sick while strengthening those who are well. As families disintegrate due to the deaths of loved ones, they increasingly find themselves making decisions that affect the entire community.

I liked the pacing, the writing style, and the characterizations. I also thought Brooks achieved a rare depth — this is a book that made me think, unlike some of the “brain candy” novels that just fill the time. Her research appears to have been thorough, yet she doesn’t smack you in the face with the notion that you’re reading a well-researched book. I hate it when authors fling little factoids at the reader to show off their work, and I imagine Brooks had many opportunities to do that, but she presented a balanced, well-integrated story. I did feel the ending was a bit rushed and somewhat fantastic compared to the rest of the story, yet it worked for me.

There is quite a bit of death in this book, and some violence against people. As for animals, there is a horse named Anteros who plays a significant role in the story. Anna takes over a dead person’s cow and helps a sheep deliver a lamb. Although the absence of cats and dogs were a factor in the overpopulation of the rats that spread of the plague, Brooks only mentions this in her afterword, which makes sense since there would have been no way for Anna to make that connection. I am declaring this book to be SAFE for animal lovers.

Does the Dog Die? A Brief Review of The Boleyn Inheritance, by Philippa Gregory

This is the second book of Gregory’s that I’ve read, the first being The Other Boleyn Girl, which got a tepid review from me a few months ago. The Boleyn Inheritance was much better, and reaffirmed my decision to give the author another chance. An online search also indicates that The Boleyn Inheritance was more historically accurate than The Other Boleyn Girl.

In The Boleyn Inheritance, Gregory alternates among three narrators: Anne of Cleves, the fourth wife of Henry VIII; Katherine Howard, wife number five; and Jane Rochford (aka Jane Boleyn), a lady in waiting to the other two and the woman whose testimony sent Anne Boleyn and her brother George–Jane’s husband–to their deaths. Anne of Cleves arrives from an unhappy home in Dusseldorf, determined to make this marriage work and never return to her despotic brother’s household again. Unfortunately, as is apparent from the beginning, she and Henry are poorly matched and the marriage is never consummated. Henry’s attentions quickly turn to cute little Kitty Howard, another young girl being used and manipulated by her uncle, the Duke of Norfolk, who stage-managed the rise of Anne Boleyn. Working for the Duke behind the scenes is Jane Boleyn, deluded about her role in events, convinced that she is a mere bystander when in fact she is a key player.

Gregory does fairly well at differentiating the three voices, and I thought she did a great job of presenting their points of view, especially Jane Boleyn’s. She managed to keep the tension high and the plot rolling briskly. Although she may have taken liberties with portraying Anne of Cleves as fearful of Henry’s whims–supposedly, they became great friends after their marriage ended–that portrayal was one of the most thought-provoking. Henry was often fatally vindictive toward his former wives, but Anne received an extremely generous settlement. I wondered if the fact that he never loved her was behind that. After all, if he didn’t care for her in the first place, then there was no need to concoct a betrayal scenario.

Anyway, I highly recommend this book. I thought it was an excellent piece of historical fiction that gave great insight into the issues of the time. Animal lovers will find this book to be MOSTLY SAFE, although there is a bull-baiting incident described on pages 75 and 76. It’s possible to skip from the paragraph that starts “I feel a little breathless” on page 75, resuming with the paragraph beginning “I find I am trembling” on page 76. But a pivotal incident occurs in the latter paragraph, so it has to be read for the book to make sense. There are also a couple of references to bear-baiting but nothing shown. Kitty Howard has a kitten and a pair of lapdogs, and there are horses, none of which come to harm.

Does the Dog Die? A Brief Review of The Teahouse Fire, by Ellis Avery

A few weeks ago, I wrote about reading history books, noting that novels can help provide a more complete picture of history, beyond the standard account of politics and wars. The Teahouse Fire is a case in point.

I don’t feel this book worked as a novel. To be blunt, I found it boring. Nothing drove the story forward, to the point that I can’t identify a plot. “Passage of time” isn’t a plot, even when every 50 pages or so we’re reminded that the protagonist (Aurelia/Urako) misses a lover from her past. There is mild to moderate tension among certain characters, but even that is tepid most of the time. Other than that, a few things happen, but there’s no sense of movement. Character development was similar, in that I had a sense of who these people were, but there wasn’t much depth to most of them. I hate giving up on a book, but after about 200 pages I decided to scan the rest of this one.

However … in my entry on reading history, I recalled that one of my college history professors had his students read novels. What I didn’t say was that this was a professor of Japanese history. So as I set The Teahouse Fire aside, I had to ask myself if I would assign this book to a Japanese history class. More importantly, if I undertook a project to uncover novels that dealt with the Meiji Restoration, how many would I find that had been written in English, or translated?

A quick online search didn’t produce that many candidates. And although The Teahouse Fire didn’t work for me as a novel, I do think Avery did outstanding research. I especially like the way she showed her characters reacting to the tremendous political and cultural upheaval that came with the Meiji Restoration. Early in the book, Urako, the protagonist, attaches herself to a family whose business it is to teach the tea ceremony. (I took lessons in the tea ceremony, along with Japanese flower arranging, on the side during my sophomore year in college.) With the Meiji Restoration, this family business lost its purpose, only to generate new interest among the increasing numbers of Westerners allowed into the country. It’s highly unlikely this perspective would show up in a standard history text, so on that basis alone I would definitely assign The Teahouse Fire to a Japanese history class.

So the book works for me on one level, though probably not the way the author intended. As for animal issues, by time I started scanning, I had only encountered a few. There’s a spooked horse and some bunnies painted with vegetable dye to appear as if they’re calico, but nothing beyond that. So this book is SAFE for animal lovers.

Another Saturday Miscellaney Post

After a great run of interesting books, I am bogged down in one that is terminally boring. So this will take the place of a book review. Also, I think we may need a few laughs.

I am very selective about the television that I watch, but I tune in religiously for my selected shows. One show I never watched was America’s Got Talent. However, this YouTube clip of an unusual dance act from the British equivalent is definitely worth watching. Simon Cowell is one of the judges, and I’m not sure I’ve ever seen him smile so broadly. YouTube has more from this act in case you like them as much as I do.

Okay, back to the economy. The correct answer is C.

Oh, and the election. I wasn’t going to put anything political in my blog. Then I saw this commentary by a little old lady and changed my mind. Helen, I love you!

Does the Dog Die? A Brief Review of The Elegance of the Hedgehog, by Muriel Barbery

This novel was a sensation in Europe, making multiple bestseller lists and eliciting wild praise from reviewers in France, Germany, Italy, and elsewhere. “Elegance” tells the story of a 54-year-old Paris concierge/intellectual, a precocious 12-year-old girl, and the Japanese gentleman who instantly sees through both of them, changing their lives forever. So how did the book go over in this American household? I’m giving it an A-, which is high praise coming from me. I do recommend it, although I’m not going to suggest it to my book group to read for the December meeting because I can imagine all too easily the conversation we’d have. It would go something like this:

Jen: I got about halfway through it. (She has a baby, which is a great reason not to finish a book for book group.)

Steph: I thought it bogged down in spots. But it had a cat on Prozac, just like Leonard!

Jenny: And like Smokey!

20 minute digression as we discuss our vets and what they have and haven’t done right with our pets.

Dana: I thought it was funny in spots and beautiful in others, but I really didn’t like the ending.

Me: I agree. There were several different ways to end the book, and I thought Barbery could have done something more ambiguous or nuanced.

Jenny: The portrayal of Paris seemed realistic based on my experience.

20 minute digression as we discuss international travel and a couple of recent vacations.

Steph: Paloma’s parents were nightmares, but she was a bit annoying herself.

Jen: The sister was pretty awful, too. Most of the characters were portrayed pretty favorably, though. Maybe I’ll finish reading it.

45 minute discussion of the election and the new administration.

Bottom line: we’ll hit the highlights quickly and not discuss the book much. This happens about half the time. I’m recommending the next batch of books, from which we’ll select the December book, and I’m trying to select candidates that will keep us engaged. I’m not confident we’d stay on-topic with this one.

So, to sum up: excellent book with an ending that isn’t as nuanced as I’d like, slow in spots, funny in spots, insightful, definitely worth reading. As for animals, since that’s the purpose of this blog, this book is entirely SAFE for animal lovers. The concierge’s cat, Leo, is mentioned quite a bit. The 12-year-old’s family has two cats as well, Constitution and Parliament. A cocker spaniel named Neptune bounds through a few times, as does whippet named Athena. Plus, there is a young vet med student, Olympe, who is among the more endearing minor characters. It’s too bad she isn’t real, because Steph is looking for a new vet and after the cat-on-Prozac discussion, I’m sure she’d want to take Leonard to Olympe’s practice.

Does the Dog Die? A Brief Review of The Year of Living Dangerously, by C.J. Koch

It seems that most often, people read a book before the movie comes out. In this case, I didn’t even know there was a book until after The Year of Living Dangerously came out as a movie back in the 1980s. But it was clear that some of the most touching and intriguing scenes — specifically, those involving Billy Kwan — would have more depth in the book. I loved the book then, and I loved it again recently when I reread it.

Billy Kwan is a half-Chinese Australian dwarf working as a TV cameraman in Indonesia during the last months of the Sukarno regime, in 1965 I believe. The narrator, a half-character of whom we learn very little beyond his profession (journalist) and last name (Cook), tells of the arrival of Guy Hamilton, a tall, handsome young Australian newsman and the ostensible main character, at least in the movie. Kwan immediately allies himself with Hamilton, passing along strangely-acquired and much-needed connections to insiders so that Hamilton can report stories the other journalists can only envy. Kwan also passes along his “girlfriend,” Jillie. (In the movie, Jillie is played by the very tall Sigourney Weaver; in the book, she is close to Kwan’s height.) As the political crisis becomes increasingly complex, Cook reveals more about Kwan and the strange poetry of his inner life, gleaned from files that Kwan keeps and Cook acquires.

Why do I love this book so? It’s moving, full of insight about love and poverty and conflict and loneliness. It’s also one of the most beautifully written books I’ve ever encountered. I hadn’t heard of Koch before, although he’s evidently written several books as both C. J. and Christopher J. Koch. (I read one of them, about another journalist, this time in Cambodia, but it lacked the depth and poignancy of Year of Living Dangerously.) In addition, Koch tells a riveting story, with excellent pacing, somehow managing to convey the complex political situation of mid-1960s Indonesia without getting bogged down in minutiae.

As for animals, there is only one, a bird named Beo that Billy Kwan keeps. I can’t tell what happens to Beo without spoiling a bit of the story, but he doesn’t get hurt and might end the book better than he begins it. So this book is SAFE for animal lovers. And it’s recommended for everyone.