Review: Dead in the Family

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Dead in the Family
by Charlaine Harris
Ace Hardcover, 320 pages
Get it at Amazon >>

Even though it’s been less than two weeks since I’ve read Charlaine Harris’ latest addition to the Sookie Stackhouse / Southern Vampire Mystery series, I don’t remember much about it. I don’t mean that I didn’t enjoy it, because I did, or that it wasn’t well-written, because it was, but that it seemed like it didn’t really have a definitive plot. Oh, I mean, there was a stray faerie, and an unidentified shifter, but most of the book seemed transitional.

For example: Sookie is dealing with the aftermath of losing her “fairy godmother,” forging a relationship with her young cousin, who shares her ability, trying to find boundaries in her relationships with Eric (romantic) and Bill (who, quaintly, is still referred to as Vampire Bill by most of the folks at Merlotte’s, but, while there’s some wrapping up of loose threads, and some setup of future events, book ten feels very much like the middle novel of a trilogy, making it one of the rare books in this series that HAS to be read in order or the reader will be left completely confused.

Diehard Sookie Stackhouse fans will not want to miss this book, which came out six weeks ago (giving book clubs enough time to discuss it before last Sunday’s beginning of season three of True Blood), but I’m left feeling like the story wasn’t complete. Less is more, of course, as the adage goes, but…this book included a visit to Eric’s house, and I’m not certain if I know whether or not his taste runs to modern furniture, or something much more exotic.

Goes well with: peach pie and sweet tea.

Booking Through Thursday: Signature

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On Thursday, June 10th, Booking through Thursday asked:

Do signed copies excite you? Tempt you? Delight you? Or does it not matter to you?

While there are a few authors of whom I am truly a fan, and not just a mere reader, I’m not the type to wait in line all night, so I can appear before them with bad breath and dark circles under my eyes, in order to get one of a limited number of signed copies.

However, while I don’t generally collect autographs, I will, if presented with the opportunity, opt for a signed copy of a book whenever possible. I don’t own a lot of signed copies, though my collection is growing lately. My copy of Robert Englund’s memoir is signed (and has a doodle), as does my copy of Michael Perry’s latest, Coop, but some of my favorite books, by some of my favorite authors (my entire Laurie R. King collection, for example) are not signed and it doesn’t mean I love them any less. (The lack of a Laurie R. King signature is somewhat mitigated by the signed photo of Jeremy Brett that I’ve had since I was thirteen or fourteen. Fans of a certain fictional detective will understand why. )

One of my favorite signed copies is the galley I have of Cleo Coyle’s coffeehouse mystery from last year – I love her work, and her recipes, and I enjoyed getting to read that before it was released.

In truth, I’d rather have the book than the signature on it.

Booking through Thursday: Long and Short of It

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Yet again, I am dreadfully late at responding to BTT.

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On Thursday, May 27th, Booking through Thursday asked:

Which do you prefer? Short stories? Or full-length novels?

In my world, having nothing to read is just as bad as not taking vitamins. I need to have a book or two near the tub, the toilet, and the bed, as well as various other places in the house, so asking me to choose between novels and short stories is difficult. If it’s well written, I like it.

After further thought, however, I decided that while I like short stories in small doses, I much prefer novels, because they give me the time to really submerge myself in a story, and breathe in a completely different world for a while. Short stories entertain me, but they never really give me the satisfaction I need.

Review: Prairie Tale

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Prairie Tale
Prairie Tale: a Memoir
Melissa Gilbert
Gallery, 384 pages
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I’ve been a fan of Melissa Gilbert ever since the first episode of “Little House of the Prairie” first aired, but I hadn’t realized she’d published her memoir until I saw it for sale among the souvenirs of “Little House on the Prairie: the Musical” several weeks ago. I ended up buying the trade paperback version, and reading it in one night.

In Prairie Tale Gilbert starts with her childhood as a kid in pigtails going to commercial auditions, and walks us through the grittiest details of her life until now. She speaks wryly about her nervousness about the kissing scenes and love scenes with Dean Butler, who played Almanzo on the show, and candidly about her first serious relationship, with Rob Lowe. She shares her dreams, and also shares her struggle with the loss of Michael Landon, and her deeper struggles with both self esteem and alcohol. If she’d been using Lipovox, she’d have written about that too, no doubt.
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In the end, this book does what a good memoir should: it makes us feel as if we’ve had a long chat with someone we once wished we could be friends with.

Goes well with strong coffee and a slice of corn bread.

Review: The God of the Hive

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The God of the Hive
The God of the Hive
Laurie R. King
Bantam, 368 pages
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I’ve been a fan of Laurie R. King’s series about Mary Russell and her older husband, the legendary Sherlock Holmes, since the first book hit the stores, so of course, I had to have the latest adventure the very second it came out. When The God of the Hive arrived, however, I put it aside, planning to savor it while on vacation. Instead, I read all the paperbacks I’d brought with me, so that I could leave them for my mother, and didn’t read this novel until I got home.

One of the things I love about this series is the level of detail King includes. While she doesn’t have to know what passed for the best acne treatment in Holmesian London, she does have to know where one can find certain kinds of stationery, or where a bolthole might be located.

In this book, which is a direct sequel to the previous installment, The Language of Bees, Russell and Holmes are still separated by the requirements of their current case – Holmes fleeing with his injured long-lost son, and meets up with a Scottish doctor, who ends up being a fabulous addition to the existing cast of characters. Mary, on the other hand, has the aeroplane pilot, and Holmes’ half-Chinese granddaughter to contend with, though she, too, hooks up with a helper who turns out to be quite beneficial to all concerned.

There isn’t much detection in this novel – there is character and there’s plot, but it’s basically a chase scene interrupted by action.

The good news, however, is that it’s still, undeniably King’s work, which is always incredibly compelling reading.

Review: The House on First Street

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The House on First Street
The House on First Street: My New Orleans Story
by Julia Reed
Harper Perennial, 224 pages
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Julia Reed’s The House on First Street: My New Orleans Story may be her memoir of the renovation of the home she buys (across the street from Anne Rice’s old place) with her husband, after many years of living in tiny, funky New Orleans rentals, and not quite cutting ties with New York, but it’s also a love story about old houses and old cities, and the magic that both offer, if you only know how to feel it.

While this book, with it’s comical (to those of us who are merely reading about it) and familiar (to any of us have gone through it) tales of slow, less-than-adequate contractors, dusty floors, paint disasters, plumbing woes and the search for the perfect appliances, fixtures (everything from the most charming door knob for an inside door, to debates about porcelain – should they use Toto toilets or some other brand?), rugs, and furniture is essentially about the relatively common practice of restoring a vintage home, it’s also a first-hand account of the aftermath of Katrina.

The hurricane struck, you see, just two weeks after Reed and her husband had finally moved into the House on First Street. They were lucky – they lost an expensive tree, and had some minor exterior damage – but their neighborhood didn’t flood. Nevertheless, Reed was in position to be in the city sooner than most of the other residents, and while she shares humorous anecdotes about buying barbecue for an entire platoon of National Guards, underlying the wry tone is the poignance of a woman who just wants to go home.

Booking Through Thursday: Bedside

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I never answered last week’s Booking Through Thursday, so am doing so now, to get it in under the wire:

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On Thursday, May 27th, Booking through Thursday asked:

What books do you have next to your bed right now? How about other places in the house? What are you reading?

My book collection is rather eclectic. I have books that I’ve had since childhood, books that I kept that still have notices reminding me when I could sell textbooks back to the bookstore for cash, and books that I bought and never read.

My to-be-read pile lives in a combination of piles on my nightstand and books still in Barnes and Noble bags, waiting for me. I am embarrassed to admit that I bought a second copy of Three Cups of Tea a few weeks ago, forgetting that I already had a copy in my TBR queue.

Tonight, sparked by this question, I went through the stacks, and listed, in no particular order the books that I have yet to read. Or the bulk of them, anyway. There are others, because sometimes something appeals to me in the moment and then by the time I get to it my mood has changed. It’s not a problem though, because eventually everything does get read.

But anyway, the list:

  • Barefoot, by Elin Hilderbrand – IN PROGRESS
  • Girl in Hyacinth Blue, by Susan Vreeland
  • Ground Up, by Michael Idov
  • The Lost Memoirs of Jane Austen, by Syrie James
  • Acedia & Me, by Kathleen Norris
  • Three Cups of Tea, by Greg Mortenson & David Oliver Relin
  • Touchstone, by Laurie R. King
  • Muse and Reverie, by Charles de Lint
  • Changes, by Jim Butcher
  • Hope in a Jar, by Beth Harbison
  • Lunch in Paris, by Elizabeth Bard
  • The Last Song, by Nicholas Sparks
  • The House on Oyster Creek, by Heidi Jon Schmidt
  • The Blue Bistro, by Elin Hilderbrand

So, what’s on YOUR list?

RetroReading: These Happy Golden Years

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These Happy Golden Years
These Happy Golden Years
Laura Ingalls Wilder
HarperCollins, 304 pages
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Two weeks ago, my husband and I went to see Little House on the Prairie: the Musical which was based on the last five of the nine “Little House” books that Laura Ingalls Wilder wrote about her pioneer girl childhood. I’ve been a fan of the books since dirt, and on a trip to that part of the country earlier this year, had, while killing time, discovered this wonderful website Beyond Little House, which was hosting on their blog a read-along of The Long Winter. I didn’t participate, but I read along, falling in love once more with a world where no one wrote nuphedragen reviews, or bought Canadian viagra over the internet, or had cell phones glued to their hands, or, or or…

After the musical, I wanted to go back and read the final book, because I was so pleased that the play had used Laura’s actual words in the proposal scene, and I spent a happy couple of hours revisiting both her childhood, and my own.

I was never a pioneer girl, though I did have braids and a sunbonnet (my mother made it for me) when I was young, but I know what it is to have restless feet, or a restless mind.

Review: Undress Me in the Temple of Heaven

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Undress Me in the Temple of Heaven
Undress Me in the Temple of Heaven
by Susan Jane Gilman
Grand Central Publishing, 320 Pages
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I read almost all of Susan Jane Gilman’s travel epic while sitting in the Mexicana Elite lounge in Mexico City about ten days ago, and on the plane trip home. I had a few hours to kill between connections, and the only other book I had left after vacation was a hardcover – not easy to read on the plane – so I began reading the novel while curled up in a lovely recliner, being served glasses of Mexican Coca Cola, and chatting (at intervals) with various Mexican businessmen – I was the only woman in the room, and every time one of them moved, they offered to get me something. I felt very popular, but there was nothing sexual in it, just sincere graciousness.

It’s interesting reading a travelogue while traveling yourself. This book, about the author’s backpacking trip through the People’s Republic of China after her college graduation, about “ten minutes after” Westerners were allowed into the country had that “out of the world” quality that really good romances do, but it’s not at all romantic (well, bits of it are), it’s more nitty-gritty psychodrama, for Suzie (as she was known then) develops a cold that slowly builds to pneumonia almost immediately after leaving Hong Kong, and Claire becomes convinced she’s an International Spy with Serious Enemies – really convinced.

While this book is a memoir, it reads like an epic novel – adventure, fear, great escapes, and true friends in unexpected places, all show up. In fact, about the only thing not mentioned is where you can buy off-label extenze, and that’s only because it had yet to be invented.

Read this book. Then take a long hot bath.

Goes well with Chinese takeout and steaming hot tea. Or banana chocolate chip pancakes.

Review: Addition, by Toni Jordan

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Addition
Addition
by Toni Jordan
Polebridge Press (Harper San Francisco), 272 pages
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You’re not supposed to judge books by their covers, I know, but it was the cover of Toni Jordan’s novel Addition that hooked me, with its pretty rows of brightly colored objects. Then I read the back, and thought, “Hmm. This is interesting.”

Protagonist Grace Lisa Vandenburg has been “counting things” since she was a young girl, and by “counting things” I don’t mean “inventorying pool filters,” but that she’s high-functioning OCD. High functioning in that as long as she sticks to a routine, she can leave her apartment and do things. . . to a point. Her routine is pretty specific though – she goes so far as to remove two eggs from every carton because she has to have TEN not TWELVE, and she steals a banana from a guy at the grocery store because she miscounted and is already in line.

When the same guy is at her table at the cafe where she goes every day for a slice of orange cake and a hot chocolate, Grace has to break out of the comfort of counting. The two fall into a quirky relationship, and the Boy even gets her to try therapy again. But her niece, and closest confidant isn’t thrilled with well-adjusted Grace, preferring a blend of the original version and the one that has been through therapy.

Toni Jordan’s characters are delightfully quirky, and her glimpse into the mind of someone with OCD is both interesting and enlightening. The novel is paced a little slow, at first, but then it gets better, and the end is satisfying, but let’s be clear: this is summer reading at it’s best.

Goes well with: A slice of orange cake and hot chocolate, obviously.