Enclave by Ann Aguire

It says "for fans of The Hunger Games" on the cover.

Yeah.  Here's my question: is post-America dystopian strong female lit the new paranormal romance weirdly alluring female lead lit?  Seems like it.  Of the two, I guess I'd have the former.

Everybody seems to be capitalizing (or, more accurately, trying very badly and obviously to capitalize) on the Hunger Games mania.  A bunch of books are popping up about creepy societies and weapon-weilding heroines.  I saw an ad on TV tonight for some post-America survival show, complete with a view of an overgrown Wrigley field and a bow and arrow carrying female.  I mean! The same thing happened with twilight - all of a sudden a zillion paranormal TV shows came zinging out of the ether and into the American TV screen.

That's not to say that this book is just some awful imitator.  It's pretty good.  The freaks were creepy (though I did wonder how they could reasonably be supposed to exist.  I get why, from a narrative standpoint, we don't know - but from a sheer "how could this be" standpoint, I'm mystified.).  I liked that the main girl was a little indoctrinated by her "enclave" or whatever.  It was fine.  I'll read the next one.

I just didn't adore it.  I don't know quite why.  I think something just felt forced.  When people create these alternate worlds and don't name things well I find it hard to enjoy myself. It's one of my big pet peeves, actually.  Slang that sounds awkward, stuff like that.  That's one of the things I felt the Hunger Games lady did well - none of the names she came up with for new creatures or people or whatever felt unlikely.  "Tributes" for the competitors - makes sense because the districts are, as in the olden days, paying tribute to their captors.  People have had to do that for a long time.  There's some kind of historical precedent for the term, and, consequently, it works.

CONCLUSION: This book shouldn't need to be marketed to Hunger Games fans as a book for Hunger Games fans, something for them to while away their time with until the next movie comes out.  If you're going to write a book that fits into a hot current genre, it needs to be more than ordinarily exceptional.  You have to be able to prove that you're not just capitalizing on the popularity that style has at the moment.  You have to prove that, if there wasn't this new public demand for Hunger Games type lit, your book could still be published and survive - in a way just like the lethal females that litter its pages - all on its own.

East by Edith Pattou

It's a crying shame, but I haven't read a bit of fiction for fun in simply ages.  

Well, I hadn't, I should say.  Because, thank heaven, the other day I tore through this book with a bleary-eyed intensity I haven't felt in a long time. 

I'd not heard of this book or its' author, and went in with only my sister's earnest recommendation. Frankly, I have no idea why it was so good, but it was so good.  Very cinematic, as ma soeur said.

Perhaps partially because I hadn't just read a good book for fun in such a long time, I gloried in this little tale.  From what I understand, it's based on a real folktale from up north somewheres.  Interesting how this type of story is found in so many cultures.  It felt familiar, like putting on an old glove - Cupid and Psyche, the Beauty and the Beast.  But then you sort of looked at the glove and found that it was made of some strange new material.  Polar bear fur in this case, I guess.

CONCLUSION:  I may hunt down more of Edith Pattou's books.  I need to start reading pleasure fiction again.  Because... it gives me pleasure.

58. Gigi by Colette

I love this story.  I love it.  I've read it before but, as you can see, I needed something to get me going again.  It's been a bruiser of a semester, and I barely have time to sit down, much less read.  I almost feared that I'd forgotten how to put my feet up and read for an hour.   But Kelsey, your worries were needless! You can still read something besides school schedules and the film critic in the newspaper.  (Who, incidentally, I honestly believe is the only good writer in the entire paper. Or even the only halfway decent one.  I can't make myself finish most of the other articles.  I'm no shakespeare - but a newspaper person who presumably lives by their pen ought not to have problems with verb tenses.  Come on now.)

CONCLUSION: I will read the rest of my Colette short stories when I have a chance.  I think I like her.  I wish I could've seen Audrey Hepburn play this role. Sigh.

okay...

Obviously, I can't do a book a day.  At least not during the school term.  But you know what? I'm okay with that now.
For a while the remembrance of this abandoned blog filled me with shame - and, more importantly, the shame crippled me and I didn't even want to write about the books I was reading, because I'd fallen so far behind.  Does that make sense?  Well, whether it does or not, I feel better now that I've given up.
From now on, I'm just going to write about the books I read.  Like every other book blogger on earth.  At least I can be a semi-normal person in this arena of life, right?

57/365 The Adulterous Woman by Albert Camus

Ditto.  Except I liked this one less than the last one.  And didn't get it completely, as opposed to a faint glimmer of "oh I think I might understand one teensy facet."  I'm not deep enough for these Great Modern European writers.

56/365 The Infant Prodigy by Thomas Mann

I'd like to say I liked this.  But if I claim to like something - and then am forced to acknowledge that I didn't get it at all, I feel like the liking doesn't count.

55/365 The Secret of Chimneys by Agatha Christie

The best thing about Agatha Christie is that when you become a rabid fan (as I am) and have read every book (as I have) and then you don't read a particular title for a year or so, there is a very good chance that, when you pick this particular title up again, you've forgotten the whole plot.  I almost never forget books, and this happens to me all the time with Agatha Christie.  Usually I remember who gets murdered and who did it and who pairs off and all that - but the stops along the way?  Not a clue.  (Ha ha! Bad joke!)

It happened with this one.  I expected it to be about Bundle, but I think I had it mixed up with The Seven Dials Mystery.  I opened it up and had no idea what was going on.  It was lovely.

I would like to be fascinating like Virginia Revel.  And as that ranks up there on the possibility scale with trading bodies with Keira Knightley, I will also say that I would love to have Bundle's wonderful turn of phrase.  And also a nickname.  Not Bundle - but so many Agatha Christie women have nicknames.  Tuppence, for heaven's sake.  Socks.  Egg.  How do they acquire these?  I have always wanted a nickname, but I think I'm a bit too old to pull a C.S. Lewis and inform my family that they're to call me Jack from now on. A pity.

Anyways, this book is fun. Princes and crown jewels and wonderful one-liners.  I do so love Lord Caterham.  I made my own papa read a bit of Lord Caterham's talking this afternoon, laughing my head off all the while.  My poor dad.  It wasn't even funny out of context.  I just can't help myself sometimes.  I've got the SHARE virus.

CONCLUSION:  Classic Christie.  Gosh, the woman can entertain.  In my book, there really is no better way to spend an afternoon than at a country house party gone murderous.