Marie Antoinette: The Journey - Antonia Fraser

General info: Biography of Marie Antoinette, published in 2001

Storytelling: 9 - Marie Antoinette’s story is a one we all vaguely know already, so I believe Fraser’s challenge here was to build on previous biographies and to imagine the misunderstood young Queen in a fresh new way. This book is largely described as a sympathetic biography, and Fraser focuses on promoting the notion that Antoinette was not the evil villainess that French history would like us to believe, but rather she was a flighty and somewhat naive young archduchess who got thrown into a really crappy situation.
To give some background, Antoinette’s life starts happily (for the most part) as the youngest of eighteen children born to the Holy Roman Emperor, Francis I, and his wife Maria Theresa. Although her domineering family loves her dearly, Antoine (as she was known before her marriage) was viewed from the onset as a mere political pawn to be played by her mother, who was a calculating and shrewd matchmaker. Fraser uses a lot of hilarious dry wit in reference to the bold Maria Theresa, who inserts herself often in matters of state, and is also a raging hypocrite when it comes to marital advice, which is more or less “obey your husband no matter the cost”. Antoine takes little interest in her formal education and busies herself instead with music and theatre, which comes to be an issue when she is eventually married to the Dauphin of France at the age of fourteen.
Here she is rudely separated from her family, who she is likely never to see again, and taken to France. Fraser describes how she struggles to warm up to her new husband and fit in at a foreign court where her language and writing skills are lacking. The Dauphin (the future King Louis XVI) is awkward, unsocial, and has no interest in consummating his marriage. Antoinette disappoints everyone in the early years of marriage, first for being a poor political ally for Austria (throughout her life she doesn’t give a rats ass about politics and is always getting harped on about this) and for not being pregnant. You have to feel for her. Fraser points out Antoinette’s redeeming attributes – such as her generosity, kindness, and grace – often and convincingly. She seems to me to have been a sweet person with a kind heart who was never cut out to be a leader. Her only wish was to be a mother.
Fast-forward a few years and Antoinette, now Queen, starts to warm up to things. She eventually gives France four children, two of whom die at a young age. She devotes her life to her remaining son and daughter, all while France is politically and economically falling to pieces. Since she’s an easy target, everyone wants to blame the foreign Austrian princess, and her reputation is vilified by the masses. Fraser doesn’t glaze over the fact that the court at Versailles was spending money foolishly and far too lavishly. She also effectively argues for the fact that Antoinette may have spent a lot, but it was what was expected of her and of every courtier at the time. She abstained in small ways, but to do so on a larger scale would have caused a ruckus. Antoinette was doomed from the start.
As we all know, the ending is tragic, and Fraser pulls the heart-strings in such a way that I found myself choking up a few times. Nothing goes right for Marie Antoinette as the French Revolution comes to its climax. Versailles and the Tuileries, both residences of the royal family near the end, are attacked, and after a failed attempt at escape, the royal family is thrown into prison. The court votes to have her husband beheaded and shortly thereafter comes to take the children away from their mother. Here Fraser describes the ferocity with which Antoinette defends her son, backing him into a corner and refusing to move even when threatened with death. Eventually they get to him after using a combination of force and threatening to kill her daughter. Shortly thereafter, they also brainwash her impressionable son into testifying at court that he was sexually molested by his mother and aunt. Really, guys?
After a brief and horribly unfair trial, she is also sentenced to death. Fraser describes how every insult is issued to Antoinette during her execution (having her hands tied, how she is paraded through the streets, etc.), unlike the King who was shown some decency. However, Antoinette falls from grace with amazing poise, and to the end she is dignified and composed.
Fraser brings this old historical account to life, and I appreciate the way she weaves the story of Antoinette’s life effectively, even if the amount of detail did get a bit confusing at times. I appreciated the fresh insight, and was impressed with the sheer scope of information Fraser had to sort through. It’s difficult to rank this book based on storytelling, since the material was already there, but Fraser re-imagined it nicely and the pages flew by rapidly.

Writing: 7 – I couldn’t help but imagining Antonia Fraser writing this book in a dark-paneled study in some posh area of London while sipping Earl Grey with her pinkie up. Her writing is 100% snotty intellectual, which I adore, but it is pretty evident she’s a 79-year-old member of the British upper-class. She is a fan of words like “august” (yes, it’s more than just a month) and “heartrending”, which you don’t often hear over here on this side of the pond. I always appreciate writing that challenges me a bit and is completely unlike any author I’ve read before, so I enjoyed this about Fraser’s style.
However, she did tend to get pretty wordy at times, and her syntax would trip me up. I’m not sure if this is because her intellect is light-years ahead of me (maybe…) or because she just really loves long sentences, but it got a bit tiresome at times. She would often fill in the blanks with her own historical speculation. For example, there is no proof that Antoinette ever had an affair with the dashing Swedish Count Fersen, but Fraser approaches their relationship as if it’s a certainty. I’m on the fence about this decision; it’s a bold move on Fraser’s part, but it’s also a little arrogant assuming you can fill in historical blanks without verifiable evidence. Perhaps this is a biographer's right, but I'll stay undecided for now.

Characters: 5 - Holy hell. There were far too many to keep track of. I understand that Fraser was dealing with roughly a million people who were involved in the French and Austrian courts at the end of the 18th century, but she further confuses the reader by using their first names, last names, and their titles, interchangeably! She smartly places a map and a family tree at the start of the book, but a glossary of characters would have helped as well. I was constantly wrinkling my brow trying to remember who so-and-so was, considering they were most likely introduced 30 pages earlier and Fraser (again with the light-speed intellect) seems to assume we can all keep up. Although I enjoy when authors don’t treat me like a bonehead, this was too much. Points docked for carelessness or intellectual malevolence, whichever it is.
However, individual character construction of key players was great. I loved her development of Marie Antoinette, Marie Theresa, Louis XV and XVI, the children, Antoinette’s closest friends, etc. She gives important figures due diligence and expounds on tiny gems of detail that I’m assuming she uncovered in her research. I felt like I could really grow to know these people, and it was fascinating to me that they were actually real figures in history.

Best part: (This answer will unveil me to be a totally macabre weirdo, but whatever. Do not read if you’re squeamish.) For whatever reason, the French targeted Marie Antoinette’s dear friend, the Princess de Lamballe. At court she refused to testify against the monarchy, so they jumped her outside of the courthouse, clubbed her to death with a hammer, and probably sexually assaulted her. (Fraser points out that she was thankfully already dead if they commenced with the latter. Lovely.)
From here, they cut off her head and disemboweled her, putting the two pieces onto two spikes. Then they took the head on the spike to a hairdresser (I kid you not) where they had her hair redone. THEN the mob marched to the Tuileries so they could bounce the head up and down near Marie Antoinette’s bedroom window, all the while screaming for her to give it a kiss. (It was rumored that Antoinette and de Lamballe had been lovers.) Thankfully the guards were able to close the shutters before Antoinette could see any of this.
All I’ll say about this is that I can only see the French being capable of this nonsense, particularly the hairdresser portion.

Recommend to: Fans of dense prose who perhaps want to start reading biographies and like girly but grisly princess stories.

Reminded me of: Salman Rushdie, if he were to start writing historical non-fiction.

How I would murder the main character: hahahaha

Sexy parts: Considering royal sex was seen as a political act, and she was derided for not having enough of it as a teenager, it’s speculated that Marie Antoinette spent most of her life thinking of all sex negatively. However, the fact that most of France thought she was a raging lesbian was kind of interesting. I still don’t believe they came up with that out of the blue just because she had close female relationships. I also appreciated the intrigue associated with her purported affair with the handsome Count Fersen. Did they or didn’t they? The world will never know…

To sum it up: Ideal for a seasoned reader, but don’t lose your head due to information overload.

Overall: 7

St. Lucy's Home for Girls Raised By Wolves - Karen Russell

General info: Collection of short stories, published in 2008

Storytelling: 10 - Admittedly, I bought this book at Urban Outfitters because it was $5, it sounded mildly interesting, and I had nothing with me to read (I tell you, my reading addiction is an illness). I finished it in three days because I just couldn’t put it down. Russell is immensely talented, and this is the most creative and unique collection I’ve read in a long time. Each of her stories (most of them narrated by pre-teen children living in the Florida everglades) have a fantastic or supernatural element that makes them quirky and slightly uncomfortable, but just enough so that the reader is left wanting more. It’s obvious from her stories that Russell is one of those individuals who exists on another plane of imaginative thought.
This book features ten stories and to give you a snapshot, it starts with the story of a 12-year-old girl abandoned by her father at a Florida gator wrestling complex and left to deal with her older, obese sister who is mentally ill and sleeping with an incubus. There is a story about a boy away at a summer camp reserved for kids with sleeping disorders, all separated into different cabins based on their ailments (narcoleptics, somnambulists, head thrashers, incontinents, etc.). There’s a story about a theme park of sorts, featuring small-house-sized giant conch shells that make eerie noises in the wind. One main character has a minotaur for a father. In another tale, a set of brothers are searching for their dead sister with a pair of goggles that allow them to see underwater ghosts. Russell’s creations are absolutely wild, and I enjoyed diving into her expansive imagination with a childlike glee. She crafts each of her tales to be almost believable, and I had a few foolish moments thinking “Wait…could that really be the case? Conch shells that large?”. I have always had a soft spot for magical realism, but I believe Russell pushes the envelope here in a macabre and satisfying way.

Writing: 7 – I obviously enjoyed this book since I sped through it. I wouldn’t be able to have done that if the writing weren’t pretty grand. (Life is too short for mediocre writing, unless the storytelling is off the charts) Russell’s MFA from Columbia is apparent and she pulled out a few vocab words that I had completely forgotten, or never known (ululate is a new favorite). However, she’s got to work on her voice, which I imagine will come with her maturation as a writer. Each of her protagonists were precocious, insightful children, aged 10-12, but they all sounded awfully adult-like. I appreciated the concept and was at first looking forward to a childlike perspective, but by the third or fourth story, I realized it was never going to come. Russell is very good, but this approach almost seems like she is trying too hard, which I guess is to be expected from a young author fresh from Columbia, attempting to prove her chops.
Additionally, I can’t decide if I loved or hated the abrupt endings she springs on the reader. Each of her stories seemed to end harshly and almost randomly, leaving a slightly unsatisfied reader to shrug, say “Well, I guess that’s that…” and charge forth to the next tale. Endings to me are more important than beginnings; that is the taste you are left with as you leave the book. However, there is a part of me that appreciates Russell’s change of pace, and it almost highlights the ethereal quality of the book. You’re meant to come up with an ending on your own; it challenges your imagination. I give credit to any author who doesn’t assume her audience is filled with nitwits and calls on them to participate, but I understand that this harsh approach is not for most and can leave many unsettled.

Characters: 7 – I suppose this ties closely in with Writing, considering a lot of my lamenting about voice had to do with the one child character Russell seemed to adopt throughout her tales. In a lot of ways I had a lot of connection with Russell’s children, since they all seemed to be misunderstood and intelligent little creatures living half in our world and half in another, and I’d like to think I was this way at 10-year-old. They were all observant and interesting, a little terrified of everything, and the type of kid that you wouldn’t mind having an adult conversation with. Again, this is probably because they were all basically written as adults. The way they interacted with the other secondary characters was fine. I wasn’t particularly blown away with Russell’s construction of other figures and her attempts to express unrequited teenage love kind of fell flat in many ways.

Best part: Russell’s final story, and the name of the book, which speaks of a Catholic private school for were-girls who are separated from their wolf families and taught to behave like humans. This story is hilarious and enormously unsettling as you hear about small girls learning to speak English (instead of growling), walk on two-legs, not urinate all over their bedrooms, and rid themselves of the craving for raw meat. This conversion is painful and confusing for this girls, and you feel for them as they are struggling to learn humanness. This story made me wonder if Russell was alluding to anything happening in our world today that we might not be approaching with the proper perspective, but maybe I’m taking it too far.

Recommend to: Fans of magical realism and anyone who feels that their imagination needs some food for thought.

Reminded me of: A grown-up, more disturbing Roald Dahl

How I would murder the main character: This is an easy one. I’d leave each of Russell’s leading children alone in the Everglades, miles from humanity and without any provisions, in the hopes that they would be eaten by an alligator.

Sexy parts: Osceola, Ava’s older teenage sister in the first story, is overcome sexually at night by her mysterious “boyfriend”. One can only assume she’s being visited by an incubus or is leading her naïve sister astray. Russell never gives you any satisfying answers. Ava believes her sister is overcome by a nocturnal spell and that she is leaving in the middle of the night to go roll in the swamp with her magical lover. Ew.

To sum it up: A dreamlike and chilling look into a not-so-childlike other world.

Overall: 8

American Wife - Curtis Sittenfeld

General info: Novel, published in 2008

Storytelling: 4 – Ok, Sittenfeld. You’ve really disappointed me with this one. You are infinitely too creative of a writer to have to rip-off the life of Laura Bush, which you do here to an alarming degree. Prep was masterfully created and entirely fictional. This drivel is about 15% fiction, and the other 85% inappropriately rips off the history of our former First Lady. Although minor things have been changed (Alice grows up in Wisconsin, not Texas. Her father-in-law is merely Governor and not President), the majority of this “tale” is based on a life that has actually been lived. How the hell does Laura Bush feel about this?
Sittenfeld was obviously making an absurd political statement through her pathetically conflicted main character, Alice Blackwell, who remains a Democrat throughout the novel even though her blundering and self-absorbed husband, Charlie, climbs to the presidency as a staunch Republican. She goes on and on about how left-leaning she is and how awful it is keeping her secret from Charlie’s much more powerful and money-rich family. She secretly donates to organizations her husband might not approve of. She tolerates his alcoholism until completely out of the blue she grows a backbone and leaves him for a bit. (Is it wrong I sided with the confused and bewildered Charlie during that bit?) The novel completely loses ground during the last section, while she is an impatient and ungrateful First Lady. She’s so tortured and conflicted about her husband’s War on Terror, which he decided to enter in to after a terrorist attack in 2001. (Oy! Another coincidence!) She mentions how ill-equipped he is to be in politics. She secretly votes for his opponent. I understand if you feel strongly about something political, but is the best choice really to craft some half-assed novel based on some woman’s real-life role as a First Lady, just to espouse your beliefs? C’mon Sittenfeld. I’m pretty darn liberal, but I would never stoop this low.
What really irked me was that the only real emotion driving this mess was guilt. This is the most guilt-soaked book you’ll ever pick up. As a teenager, Alice accidentally kills a classmate/potential boyfriend in a horrific car wreck (same as Laura Bush). Don’t get me wrong, this whole scenario is horrific and incredibly sad, but she harps on her guilt for the next 300 pages. Then, she feels guilty for dating and marrying Charlie even though her friend Dena liked him (Really? Are you 13?) Then she feels guilty about their life of privilege…about living in a nice house…about Charlie’s trust fund…about being the First Lady….blah blah blah. What a mouse! Stop complaining and make something of your life!
The only redeeming moments here come from Sittenfeld’s ability to shine bits of real-life light through her story. She has such a firm grasp of reality, and she is a master at proffering witty bits of surprising insight. She makes me laugh at times with her frank honesty, and throughout this book I especially loved her remarks on the nature of being a reader. Alice is a book-lover and an elementary school librarian when she meets Charlie. I’ll give you one guess as to who else was a librarian when she met George Bush…

Writing: 8 – Here is where Sittenfeld redeems herself. She is obviously talented, and her delivery is concise and spot-on. I’ve never been married, but after reading this, I feel like I understand it a little bit more. I credit this to Sittenfeld’s superb diction which paints a picture of an experience so well, I could feel myself stepping into Alice’s head each time I opened this book. For the most part, I found this interesting, but at times it did get difficult to suffer through the long passages of monologue. Alice is very much a character who lives in her own head, and she comments often on the fact that she is grateful for people who talk more than she does. Now, I’m willing to cut Sittenfeld a little bit of slack considering I am the polar opposite personality type, and I was still able to sort of relate to Alice, but this got wearing. Were it not for Sittenfeld’s wit, clever insight, and apparent ability to pluck perfect words out of thin air (I would often reread passages a few times, silently saluting her for her brilliant construction), I would probably not have made it through this book.

Characters: 7 – Firstly, I did not really like any of the characters in this book, aside from Alice’s spunky and fun-loving sister-in-law, Jadey. They were all either boring or offensive, and I doubt I’d be friends with a single one (save for Jadey…and maybe Miss Ruby). However, my own preferences should factor in negligibly here, and I need to rate these characters instead on their construction. What Sittenfeld does well here is she includes a lot of characters who are just unique and flawed enough to be compelling. She introduces a large cast, and I am able to keep track of them mentally through 500+ pages. I give her credit for this. Her characters are also easily identified, which is a challenging task, but one that is made a bit easier through the eyes of one individual. In a quirky, slightly confusing way, they all seem to complement each other well, and I am thankful for the way their personalities weave together.
However, Sittenfeld gets points taken off for the super blunt way she contrasts Alice and Charlie. I understand that opposites attract, but these two have nothing in common and their love never really makes sense. When Alice separates from Charlie for a short bit, her immediate family and friends aren’t surprised because he’s such a louse. Well…duh. Sittenfeld tries her hardest to convey how much Alice loves Charlie despite his flaws, but it comes off as superficial and forced. After the 9th “why I love Charlie even though he sucks” passage, you start to roll your eyes.

Best part: Shortly after they are engaged, Alice goes to meet Charlie’s extended family at their “rustic” compound on Lake Michigan, where they vacation for 2-3 months every summer (like the Bush family does in Maine). Charlie’s family is loud and boisterous, proud of their ability to rough it with many people sharing one bathroom. They all eat huge meals together, swim in the lake all day, enjoy their mis-matched furniture, and mingle with the families in the nearby compounds. Because she is completely lame and hates fun, Alice wants to leave immediately and is scared by everyone. I, however, adored this part because my extended family does something similar, albeit it’s the middle-class version (less booze, more tents). Sittenfeld evokes the feeling well, and it made me yearn for summertime.

Recommend to: not Laura Bush

Reminded me of: Jennifer Weiner, who I can sometimes tolerate.

How I would murder the main character: Oh boy. What a decision. I’d probably get her drunk on whiskey and then stone her to death with copies of The Giving Tree.

Sexy parts: Alice and Charlie have a lot of sex, and Sittenfeld describes it in detail. These parts are what endear me to Charlie the most, because he is affectionate and generous. There’s also a scene where a socially inept 9-year-old girl goes pilfering through the bedrooms and finds Charlie’s stash of Penthouse magazines. (Cue Alice’s long rambling monologue about objectifying women).

To sum it up: A good read, but political discussions are best left to the media.

Overall: 6

The Fountainhead - Ayn Rand

General info: Novel, published in 1943

Storytelling: 10 – I have been touting this book as one of my favorites for years, having first read it as a radical and anti-authoritarian 17-year-old. After re-reading as a more moderate 25-year-old, I must say it still is one of the best. Rand is incredibly unpredictable, and even though I have read this before, I still felt my mind jolting every time she throws you a curveball. It’s like watching a really great scary movie over and over; you know he’s going to go after her with the meat cleaver, but you still cringe. The story weaves through the years effectively and moves quickly without losing relevant detail. It’s also a particularly dazzling tale, including millionaire tycoons, explosions, a lot of jewelry, and naked statues. Any story that is an 8 or above in my book leaves me feel saddened at the end because it’s over, and this one did exactly that. And hey, I learned a bit about architecture too.

Writing: 10 – First, I want to preface this by assuring you all that I think Objectivism is a load of nonsense. But if more people wrote like Ayn Rand, I’d assuredly just lay in bed all day glued to their books, unable to leave and probably remaining perpetually un-showered. Her vocabulary is off the charts, her syntax gives me goose-bumps, and her attention to detail makes me cry. I love that you can sense how deliberately and carefully she selects each of her words. You can tell Ayn Rand respects words immensely and chooses them with the utmost care – similar to her heroes and heroines. She is hard-hitting, eloquent and captivating. I have a crush on Ayn Rand’s writing, even though I also think she was completely insane.

Characters: 7.5 – I love and breathe for Ayn Rand’s characters. They are passionate, well-crafted pieces of art, each and every one, but I’m going to mark her down here for the fact that most of them aren’t really human. You can’t really feel yourself identifying with any of them, and even though I would perhaps give a limb to identify with Dominique Francon, I really can’t at all. Rand’s characters are all either starkly Type 1 (Howard Roark) or Type 2 (Ellsworth Toohey) with no variance in between. I love the scope of her characterization and the depths of their conviction (or lack thereof), but what place would they really have in the real world? I think this is Rand’s point, that we are missing this essential piece of society, or that men and women who would normally be willing to speak out for justice get smothered by the ignorant masses. Her point is made with the subtleness of a sledgehammer, and I sometimes get a little aggravated, wondering if perhaps she went too far. Wouldn’t she have been more effective if she toned it down a little bit?
However, I am entertained and grabbed nonetheless. Following these characters is like watching a superhero movie. No, that couldn’t really happen, but you find yourself gripping the edge of your seat in heated anticipation, loving the ride.

Best part: Howard Roark and Dominique Francon meet again in the city at a black-tie party, post-rape, and pretend not to know each other. I love imagining their eyes meeting once again, and Dominique finally associating Roark’s name and genius with the face of an anonymous quarry worker. Also Roark blowing up the Cortlandt building makes for some good fiction.

Recommend to: Anyone with a brain and who can read a book skeptically but with appreciation.

Reminded me of: I’m not even going to attempt to think of anyone who could rival Ayn Rand.

How I would murder the main character: I would chain Howard Roark to the Parthenon until he starves.

Sexy parts: Dominique Francon sure is sexy, but her love life is a hot mess. She loses her virginity to Howard Roark in what Rand refers to as “rape by engraved invitation”. Then she marries Peter Keating, only to later sleep with Gail Wynand to secure Keating a commission, even though she still loves Roark. Then she marries Wynand, makes her affair with Roark public, and then marries Roark. Although sexy, I do not envy Dominique and her backwards route to romance.

To sum it up: An epically passionate and mind-blowing tome that must be taken with a grain of political salt.

Overall: 9

Journey to the Center of the Earth - Jules Verne

General info: Classic science-fiction novel, published in 1864

Storytelling: 5 – Although it’s obvious Verne wanted to educate his readers about different time periods and layers of the earth, he got way too scientific for my liking. It also didn't help that his science is horribly outdated, but I can't fault him for this, being a 21st century reader. The plot lagged at times and lapsed into a lot of preamble associated with the surroundings. I’d find myself reading certain passages over and over, not retaining anything and wondering why the barometer and compass readings were so damn important. Now I am a huge fan of flowery, descriptive prose, but this was just too dense and numerical for my liking. Jules Verne was undoubtedly that kid who asked for the child's science kit for Christmas and then exploded green goop all over the living room. (Do they have living rooms in France?)
However, the occasional sprinkling of action scene was to my liking. Fights between prehistoric water beasts, gigantic men, epic electrical storms while “out to sea”, etc. were all very nice. Although I often found myself drifting off, Verne always reeled me in again.
The story was also funny in a quirky, subtle way. For example, I appreciated Verne’s description of “hunting” eiderdown ducks (I wonder if this really happens), his occasional sarcastic references to the nature of Germans, and Axel’s overly-dramatic and frequent references to how they are all surely going to die in miserable ways. These tidbits popped up out of nowhere on occasion and improved the reading considerably.

Writing: 7 – There’s something very specific about the way Verne writes, and in some odd way, it appeals to me. I’d consider it true science fiction, heavy on the science. It’s not for your everyday reader but it is short and fairly easy to digest, once you get past certain passages. I typically pride myself on having a fairly vast vocabulary, but Verne challenged me with words that led me to dictionary.com, such as savant, polyglot, and anathematize. (Say that last one out loud)
I also was a bit bewildered by a sudden change of tense associated with the big electrical storm. Axel goes from past tense into present rather abruptly. I realize this is a very distressing time for our fearful main character, but I wasn’t quite sure why that moment was the time that Verne decided to throw me for a loop. To what end? It felt a little disjointed, and the use isn’t really obvious to me. Maybe I’m missing something…

Characters: 8 – For a short novel centered around three oddball characters, I think Verne did a fine job. Axel is pitiful and a real downer most of the time, but there is something earnest and honest about him, and he’s especially amusing as a foil against his wacky uncle, Lidenbrock. Hans, their silent and capable Icelandic guide, was my favorite. There’s just something about the strong, silent type that appeals to a girl, and I’ve always loved Scandinavians.
Interestingly, I struggle to identify the antagonist in this story. In many ways, it’s Axel himself, always trying to dissuade his uncle from continuing on. Or perhaps the real bad guy is Saknussemm, teasing them with bits and pieces of his trail. With a name like that, he must have been a jerk.

Best part: So as not to be too predictable, I liked when the travelers stayed overnight with the generous Icelandic family. Verne’s description of the large gaggle of poor children piled on top of each other to make space at the dinner table made me giggle. Otherwise, were I to be predictable, I’d say the fight between the plesiosaur and the ichthyosaur and how Axel at first mistakes them for four different creatures. Oh Axel…

Recommend to: My nerd friends who have a love for science fiction but also have a brain that’s geared more toward math/science. Or anyone who appreciates seeing the word Snæfellsjökull in print.

Reminded me of: Don’t ask me to justify this, considering I’ve only read like 50 pages of him, but Herman Melville. They seem to both be fans of lengthy descriptions with occasional bursts of excitement.(Note: after finishing Moby Dick, I realized that I was way off with this guess)

How I would murder the main character: I would buy the largest manometer on the market and clobber Axel over the head with it. Or I’d feed him to the ichthyosaur.

Sexy parts: Axel’s slightly scandalous mad love for Gräuben, Professor Lidenbrock’s ward. I sure hope after Axel returned alive and they got married that she worked on him not being such a weenie. And I hope she changed her name.

To sum it up: A fun story that is drily imaginative and best taken in small doses.

Overall: 6.5

Intro

nerd: an intelligent but single-minded person obsessed with a nonsocial hobby or pursuit

I suppose I have always been a book nerd.

All through my youth and long before I learned how to read, my mother read my sister and me books every night before bedtime. This was a sacred event, and I remember looking forward to it gleefully; it was our special time together. Even though I may not be able to remember all of the specifics, I know that books have positively benefited me my whole life and were a large part of my upbringing. The written word is celebrated in my family, and we all strive to fill our lives with newspapers, magazines and books.

Once I was old enough to read, my grandma started taking us to the library every week. My love of books developed naturally, and I attribute it to both nature and nurture. Over time, I habitually started reading a chapter or two before bed, every night. EVERY night. This has stayed constant and no matter where I may be, I have a book nearby when I lay down and need to release the day. I’d say there might be a handful of days a year I can’t read before bed, for whatever reason, and then I find myself struggling to fall asleep. I am quite simply addicted to reading.

As a kid, I found a solace and comfort in books that I couldn’t find elsewhere. It was a cheap way to escape and learn, and because it’s a wonderful thing to do for yourself (and given their own tendencies) my family encouraged me along the way. Throughout my youth I won every elementary prize associated with number of pages read. I dominated library contests. I won spelling bees. I devoured books during road trips. I stole books from friends and family members before they could finish them. It took me until I reached high school to realize that reading as voraciously as I do is not the norm, and I realized I was a huge nerd. It is a label that I wore (and continue to wear) with pride.

College surprisingly didn’t change anything, even though I had piles of mandatory reading to do on top of the optional novels. I had it out with the University of Michigan English department and decided instead to major in German, which considerably strengthened my understanding of English grammar and linguistics, consequently making me a better reader. It was also around this time that I started to collect books, which has become an expensive and weighty habit considering my tendency to move all over the place (I’ve lived in 11 different places over the past 7 years. Thank God for Media Mail). The physical proximity of my favorite books, covered with my scribbles, food spillings, sweat and tears, is a comfort to me.

Now, I am 25, and I have just moved to New York City from Seattle, originally from Michigan. Over the past year I’ve started to make it a habit of always carrying a book in my purse. City life means you never know when you need to wait for 15 minutes, whether it be for a friend or the subway, so why not have a book on hand? The result of this is that I pore through books even more quickly and will likely develop back problems in the next decade.

I’m asked fairly often to recommend books for people, and I’ve known for awhile that I should start a blog so that I can just pour out my thoughts. This will help me to retain what I read more effectively and analyze the book in a new way. It will help me to be a better nerd.

I do have a few rules about the books I read:

1) The Author Rule: If I happen to discover a new author I’m absolutely crazy about, I make it a personal rule to not read their body of work consecutively. I find this mentally similar to eating spaghetti every meal for a week, even if you really love spaghetti – it’s unhealthy. For example, a few months ago I read Barbara Kingsolver’s The Poisonwood Bible and fell in love, but I waited two months to read another one by her, The Lacuna. I’ll likely start another in a bit, but for now, I'd prefer to be patient and savor her books gradually. Great authors don’t come along very often, and they can only produce so much.

2) The Genre Rule: Similar to the Author Rule, I try to vary the genres I read. If I read something non-fiction, I’ll follow it with a lit classic, and then maybe I’ll read some trashy piece of girl lit. Sometimes I’ll go on kicks where I become fascinated with one topic (a few years ago, I got hooked on Turkish lit) but usually I’m pretty good about trying to mix it up. (Note: I tend to read a lot more literature than anything else, and I also love big, meaty, complex novels. You’ll see that this is what I lean toward naturally, even though I try to fight against it.)

3) The Pop Culture Rule: Sometimes, I can be a snob, but I think it’s important to keep tabs on pop culture. I’ve read every Dan Brown book. I love Harry Potter. The Twilight books were fine. I kind of enjoyed One Fifth Avenue by Candace Bushnell. I am not above reading something that other book lovers might scoff at, because I think it’s important to see what the masses find compelling. I read a lot of heavy weighty books. Sometimes I just need a break to enjoy some brain candy. (Note: I pride myself on being able to read most anything, from OK Magazine to James Joyce, unless it's writing that is literally paining me to get through. For example, Mitch Albom's books make my eyes start to bleed. He sure is appealing to many people, but for the life of me, I just can't do it)

So here I go, into the world of book criticism. I welcome comments and suggestions, considering I am brand new at this. I know I love books and can only hope to give a genuine account of what I notice and appreciate.

Happy reading.

Rebecca

PS: I am aware that one is not an official New Yorker until they've lived 10 years in this city, but I am going to take a little creative license with it. Be assured I don't run around bragging about my residence here. I still have 9 years and 11 months to prove I belong.