Showing posts with label Bloomsbury. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Bloomsbury. Show all posts
Tuesday, September 26, 2017
The River at Night by Erica Ferencik
I had a little trouble getting into The River at Night, partly because I had just finished three utterly brilliant books in a row (this was back at the end of July) and partly because the beginning is a bit slow. A suspense about 4 women who get together yearly for a getaway, the book begins with a concept that's a little hard to buy into. Pia wants to go somewhere remote and challenging - a "get back to nature" type of trip - and she's chosen whitewater rafting in Maine. Rather than finding a place that's safe with trained tour guides, she's found a 20-year-old who has mapped out a remote section of river in Maine that he'll guide them down after a night of camping in the wilderness. Win (short for Winifred) narrates the trip.
There's some painfully overdone foreshadowing via Win's fears, at the beginning. But, once the women arrive at the river and begin their journey, the pace of the story picks up. Rory, their guide, seems competent enough. There was just never a point at which I was able to say to myself, "Yeah, sure, I believe 4 women would be willing to go to this remote area with a single guide and no knowledge of their own." It just didn't make sense to me. Why not go somewhere safer? I've been whitewater rafting. You can choose a trip every bit as challenging as what Pia chose (a weekend trip) but without the added danger of going somewhere so ridiculously remote without any kind of emergency plan. It's almost like you can sense the author plotting, "Where can I send my characters to make sure they're in the worst possible situation?" Setting up the plot in this way ensured that the characters in the book fall into the "too stupid to live" category.
Recommended but not a favorite - The author did a great job of changing the scenery, keeping the geography fairly fresh as the group traveled downriver; her descriptions of the river were beautiful. And, once things started to go horribly wrong and the storyline in The River at Night went a little big Deliverance, I considered the challenge the women faced unexpected and therefore interesting. I give the author credit for uniqueness of the specific dangers she created and the fact that I did find the story suspenseful, if a bit predictable. But, the overall result was average to a bit above average. Points off for overdone foreshadowing and a story that never fully allows one to suspend disbelief.
©2017 Nancy Horner. All rights reserved. If you are reading this post at a site other than Bookfoolery or its RSS feed, you are reading a stolen feed. Email bookfoolery@gmail.com for written permission to reproduce text or photos.
Friday, May 12, 2017
The Dragon with a Chocolate Heart by Stephanie Burgis
A little info about why I've posted two covers for my review of The Dragon with a Chocolate Heart:
1. The cover at left is the UK cover and the one I have. The book has already been released in the UK and I opted to order a copy from Book Depository, partly because I liked the UK cover better and partly because I wanted to go ahead and read it, rather than waiting for the American release. Having read the book, I can tell you that both illustrations fit the text. I do prefer a the lighter, more cheerful coloring of the UK cover, so I'm happy with my purchase.
2. The Dragon with a Chocolate Heart has not yet been released in the US but the release is coming, soon, so it's undoubtedly available for pre-order, although I haven't looked. The cover at right is the US version. Because I'm in the US, I thought it would be appropriate to include both covers - the UK version I've purchased and read and the US version that is soon to be released. UPDATE: The US release date is May 30!
The Dragon with a Chocolate Heart is the story of Aventurine, a young dragon whose scales have not yet hardened. Until a dragon's scales have hardened, it is not safe in the outside world and the hardening of scales takes many years. So, Aventurine is pretty much stuck in a cave perpetually and she's bored. Her siblings have discovered their passions and are perfectly happy in the cave, but Aventurine wants to see the world and is frustrated by her inability to leave.
When she gets the chance Aventurine escapes from the cave. She doesn't plan to stay outside long or get herself into trouble, but she encounters a food mage who gives her some enchanted chocolate and poof! she is transformed from dragon to human. Not only has she been tricked by a wily mage, she is also unable to return home. Dragons fear humans and know them to be a danger, although an angry dragon can clearly harm a human, as well. When one of her family members flies nearby, Aventurine gets a good sense of what it's like facing an angry dragon when he aims at her with his flaming breath. He will never believe she's really a part of his family.
With no other choice left to her, Aventurine goes into the nearest village in search of her new passion, chocolate, clothed in an outfit that looks like her former dragon scales. She's helped by a young thief, but can Aventurine trust her new friend? When she decides that she wants to become an apprentice to a chocolatier, will she be able to overcome rejection? Will any of the chocolatiers ever accept her? And, when dragons begin to swoop over the village, can Aventurine stop the villagers from killing her family? How will she ever convince her family that she's a human, now?
Recommended - What a creative story. Aventurine is a strong, fearless heroine who becomes a fish out of water when she's turned human. But, after discovering her passion, she goes for it. She is going to become a chocolatier and she is going to find a way to save the village and her family. You know it when each of these things are coming, but it's still a delight to find out how she'll accomplish everything she needs and desires to do. Although there were some portions that I thought dragged a bit, I enjoyed the friends Aventurine made along the way, her courage and determination, and the ending. The one thing that I thought was not obvious: Would Aventurine remain a human or find a way to transform back into a dragon? Would she be a dragon chocolatier? I'm not going to give that away but I will tell you I found the ending satisfying.
©2017 Nancy Horner. All rights reserved. If you are reading this post at a site other than Bookfoolery or its RSS feed, you are reading a stolen feed. Email bookfoolery@gmail.com for written permission to reproduce text or photos.
Wednesday, January 11, 2017
Everything I didn't review in 2016, Part 1
After writing that last post, I realized there was no recent read left that I thought needed even mini review treatment, although a couple of the books I neglected throughout the year really should have gotten reviews fresh from the reading. I'll mention those when I get to them.
Don't Even Think About It: Why Our Brains Are Wired to Ignore Climate Change by George Marshall is a book not so much about climate change and the stats that prove it but how people think about it, what makes them prone to denial or understanding, and why certain circumstances make it more likely that they won't connect an event to climate change. An excellent, thought-provoking book that I thought about for so long I didn't get around to reviewing, this is probably one of two books I seriously regret not getting around to saying anything about. It's more psychology than climate science. While the author approaches both sides and does his best to stay neutral, he falls clearly on the side of the 97% of scientists who are convinced that climate change is going to kill us all (he's not shy about saying so) and describes climate scientists as a gloomy lot, because they anticipate their doom. This one deserves a reread. It's a 5-star book.
From the Land of the Moon by Milena Agus is a Europa translation with a surprising ending, so twisty as to be baffling. I found another reader to discuss with and we were uncertain what actually happened in the end but it appeared that the narrator was unreliable and the ending cast the entire story into doubt. I'm glad I read From the Land of the Moon but it was definitely a head trip.
1914 and Other Poems by Rupert Brooke is one of the few books I don't remember all that well. I knew of Rupert Brooke as one of the war poets but as far as I can recall, the book was not composed entirely of war poetry. As with most poetry, some of it made sense and even resonated, some was either baffling or simply beyond my understanding, some I liked and some I did not. In the end, I'm guessing I didn't have much to say about it and that's why it ended up unreviewed, but I'm always happy to have read a volume of poetry because I love trying to engage with an art form that is powerful due to the careful and precise use of wording, whether I get it all or not.
The Secret of Raven Point by Jennifer Vanderbes is a book I read while on vacation, a WWII story about a nurse, her patients, and a doctor for whom she has feelings she must keep to herself. When I read this book, I really enjoyed it but I was shocked how quickly I forgot what it was about. To this day, I can't remember the details. But, I have to wonder if that has to do more with travel fatigue than the content of the book. At any rate, I know I enjoyed it. I just don't remember much about it.
The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society by Mary Ann Shaffer and Annie Barrows was, of course, the hot book about 5 years ago. Maybe longer, I don't know. At any rate, I put off reading it for ages and I don't know why. I finally got to it in 2016 and, like everyone else, I loved it. I found the story of the group of Guernsey island inhabitants who use a book club as cover for their activities charming, sometimes funny, but at the same time fiercely real. It's a rare book that can be funny, serious, and deeply moving. I opted not to review the book because everyone else already reviewed it but if there's anyone left out there who hasn't yet read The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society, quit putting it off.
Flora and Ulysses by Kate DiCamillo is a book I bought and had autographed - or maybe just bought autographed - at our local book festival. I got to hang out with blog friend Brittanie during the author's hilarious question/answer session and then came home and gobbled down Flora and Ulysses, that night. It's the story of a squirrel who is sucked up by a vacuum cleaner and when he does, he gains the ability to write poetry. But, he really wants to be a superhero. Funny, cerebral, and heartwarming (although not my favorite by the author). Kate DiCamillo is a gifted storyteller. I can't imagine not liking anything she has ever written or will write.
A Square Meal: A Culinary History of the Great Depression by Jane Ziegelman and Andrew Coe is one of the best works of nonfiction I read in 2016 and I feel awful about not reviewing it. You should see my copy; it is chock full of colorful flags. I still think about it regularly. It's particularly relevant because a great deal of what was done during the Depression with the back-and-forth about social programs and whether or not people were becoming too dependent upon handouts and should only get seeds to grow their own food . . . similar things are being done, today, with the whole "Pull yourself up by your bootstraps and stop depending on SNAP!" thing. I had no idea, actually, about the bread lines being as controversial as the distribution of food to families, nor did I ever contemplate the fact that it was always the men standing in food lines. Funny that I never noticed that. I also gained a new admiration for farm wives of that time period and learned a lot about how home economists led changes in the way we live and cook.
I need to find my copy and pull some quotes from this one. It's a crime that I didn't get to it, honestly, particularly given its application to the way we're still bickering about whether or not people living in poverty should be served by food programs. If you have any interest at all in the Great Depression, A Square Meal is a marvelous resource and a fascinating read.
Part 2 is coming up.
©2017 Nancy Horner. All rights reserved. If you are reading this post at a site other than Bookfoolery or its RSS feed, you are reading a stolen feed. Email bookfoolery@gmail.com for written permission to reproduce text or photos.
Don't Even Think About It: Why Our Brains Are Wired to Ignore Climate Change by George Marshall is a book not so much about climate change and the stats that prove it but how people think about it, what makes them prone to denial or understanding, and why certain circumstances make it more likely that they won't connect an event to climate change. An excellent, thought-provoking book that I thought about for so long I didn't get around to reviewing, this is probably one of two books I seriously regret not getting around to saying anything about. It's more psychology than climate science. While the author approaches both sides and does his best to stay neutral, he falls clearly on the side of the 97% of scientists who are convinced that climate change is going to kill us all (he's not shy about saying so) and describes climate scientists as a gloomy lot, because they anticipate their doom. This one deserves a reread. It's a 5-star book.
From the Land of the Moon by Milena Agus is a Europa translation with a surprising ending, so twisty as to be baffling. I found another reader to discuss with and we were uncertain what actually happened in the end but it appeared that the narrator was unreliable and the ending cast the entire story into doubt. I'm glad I read From the Land of the Moon but it was definitely a head trip.
1914 and Other Poems by Rupert Brooke is one of the few books I don't remember all that well. I knew of Rupert Brooke as one of the war poets but as far as I can recall, the book was not composed entirely of war poetry. As with most poetry, some of it made sense and even resonated, some was either baffling or simply beyond my understanding, some I liked and some I did not. In the end, I'm guessing I didn't have much to say about it and that's why it ended up unreviewed, but I'm always happy to have read a volume of poetry because I love trying to engage with an art form that is powerful due to the careful and precise use of wording, whether I get it all or not.
The Secret of Raven Point by Jennifer Vanderbes is a book I read while on vacation, a WWII story about a nurse, her patients, and a doctor for whom she has feelings she must keep to herself. When I read this book, I really enjoyed it but I was shocked how quickly I forgot what it was about. To this day, I can't remember the details. But, I have to wonder if that has to do more with travel fatigue than the content of the book. At any rate, I know I enjoyed it. I just don't remember much about it.
The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society by Mary Ann Shaffer and Annie Barrows was, of course, the hot book about 5 years ago. Maybe longer, I don't know. At any rate, I put off reading it for ages and I don't know why. I finally got to it in 2016 and, like everyone else, I loved it. I found the story of the group of Guernsey island inhabitants who use a book club as cover for their activities charming, sometimes funny, but at the same time fiercely real. It's a rare book that can be funny, serious, and deeply moving. I opted not to review the book because everyone else already reviewed it but if there's anyone left out there who hasn't yet read The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society, quit putting it off.
A Square Meal: A Culinary History of the Great Depression by Jane Ziegelman and Andrew Coe is one of the best works of nonfiction I read in 2016 and I feel awful about not reviewing it. You should see my copy; it is chock full of colorful flags. I still think about it regularly. It's particularly relevant because a great deal of what was done during the Depression with the back-and-forth about social programs and whether or not people were becoming too dependent upon handouts and should only get seeds to grow their own food . . . similar things are being done, today, with the whole "Pull yourself up by your bootstraps and stop depending on SNAP!" thing. I had no idea, actually, about the bread lines being as controversial as the distribution of food to families, nor did I ever contemplate the fact that it was always the men standing in food lines. Funny that I never noticed that. I also gained a new admiration for farm wives of that time period and learned a lot about how home economists led changes in the way we live and cook.
I need to find my copy and pull some quotes from this one. It's a crime that I didn't get to it, honestly, particularly given its application to the way we're still bickering about whether or not people living in poverty should be served by food programs. If you have any interest at all in the Great Depression, A Square Meal is a marvelous resource and a fascinating read.
Part 2 is coming up.
©2017 Nancy Horner. All rights reserved. If you are reading this post at a site other than Bookfoolery or its RSS feed, you are reading a stolen feed. Email bookfoolery@gmail.com for written permission to reproduce text or photos.
Sunday, October 12, 2014
Catch-up #2: Imprisoned by Sandler, Boxers and Saints by Yang, The Haunting of Hill House by Jackson
Another day, another attack on the sidebar. We can party when I'm finished.

The subtitle of Imprisoned by Martin W. Sandler says it all: The Betrayal of Japanese Americans During WWII. I don't know what made me mentally reduce this horror to the thought that perhaps it was merely immigrants, not naturalized citizens that were forced into prison camps in the U.S. during WWII, but boy was I wrong. They were not only citizens but some some were 2nd or 3rd generation and they were people who owned businesses, contributed immensely to the American economy as well as farming practices in the U.S. and were incredibly proud of being American citizens. As a result of hysteria, they were forced to sell their land and possessions for next to nothing, rounded up, and imprisoned in deliberately remote and hellish places. Now, I understand.
Imprisoned is an oversized book published for children by Walker Books for Young Readers (a Bloomsbury imprint) so it has lots of nice photographs and slightly large print but the author doesn't talk down to his audience. He clearly describes the politics involved in the unconstitutional decision to put American citizens in camps, the racial prejudice Japanese Americans had been dealing with since their arrival, the living conditions and the horror of losing everything they'd worked for, the amazing strength of character and creativity shown by those imprisoned and the various attempts at reparation and results. So, there's plenty of material that adults may enjoy every bit as much as the targeted younger audience. I bought my copy and I'm glad I did. I'll be referring back to it and looking up some of the other books mentioned.
Yet another purchase, I bought both Boxers and Saints by Gene Luen Yang, companion graphic novels that tell the story of the Boxer Rebellion from two differing viewpoints.
Boxers tells the story from the viewpoint of a young boy called Little Bao who sees the Christians in China as foreign devils and a threat, while Saints tells the side of a young Chinese girl (called Four Girl by her family) who becomes a Christian and is able to acquire a real name of her own, Vibiana. Their stories intersect when they cross paths as children and again when one kills the other as the Society of the Righteous and Harmonious Fist (to which Little Bao belongs) violently overtakes the Christians.
I read Boxers and Saints because I loved The Eternal Smile and American Born Chinese by Yang. I can't say I loved Boxers and Saints as much, but I did like them and reading graphic novels is a tremendously palatable way to learn a bit about history. I'd heard about the Boxer Rebellion but if you'd asked me what it was before I read Boxers and Saints, I probably would have said, "The year everyone decided to leave out the Christmas decorations, maybe?" or something equally inane.
There are elements of magical realism to the stories but I don't feel like saying much more. Andi's review of Boxers and Saints is much better than anything I can think of to say. You should read it.
Speaking of Andi, The Haunting of Hill House by Shirley Jackson is a book I read casually as part of a read-along (IOW, I didn't officially sign up to participate), although I never saw any mention of a hashtag and it took me forever to figure out the read-along was hosted by The Estella Society, not Estella's Revenge. Close but no cigar.
I've read Shirley Jackson's short story collection, The Lottery, and We Have Always Lived in the Castle (pre-blog), but this was my first reading of The Haunting of Hill House.
Known as a horror classic, The Haunting of Hill House tells the story of a man named Dr. Montague who has spent years seeking out a haunted house to observe as an experiment. Four characters end up staying in Hill House. Dr. Montague is in charge, of course. Eleanor is a lonely single woman who is looking for adventure and a fresh start after spending much of her adulthood caring for her mother. Theodora is a spirited, happy-go-lucky woman; to her the stay at Hill House is a bit of a lark. Luke, son of the owners and future inheritor of Hill House, is described as a liar but never really gave me the sense that he was an unreliable character, although I wouldn't think of him as trustworthy, either.
The house gives off evil vibes and Eleanor, in particular, seems to be targeted by its antics, inside and out. Even outdoors, bizarre things happen. Eleanor is the most sensitive to psychic phenomenon, having been the victim of a possible gremlin (I think -- not sure I'm remembering right) when she was young. Dr. Montague has informed them that once the house decides to claim someone, they will die trying to get away. Will the 4 visitors survive the escalating terror alive?
I'm not going to give anything away but there were definitely moments The Haunting of Hill House scared the bejeezus out of me. I particularly loved reading the book for the historical perspective, though. Since it was published in 1959, there were oddities of speech and perspective from that time period. I particularly found it interesting that Eleanor thought she was being just a little bit wild when she set out a pair of slacks to wear and mentioned how horrified her mother would be (dresses and skirts only, ladies!) I've been around long enough to have lived with an elementary school dress code in which girls were forbidden to wear pants with one exception: matching pantsuits were allowed. Hard to fathom, today, isn't it? Definitely recommended. I really enjoyed The Haunting of Hill House and will return to it when I want to be creeped out, in the future.
I recommend all four of these books, but among them Imprisoned and The Haunting of Hill House were my 5-star reads; Boxers and Saints got 4 stars.
©2014 Nancy Horner. All rights reserved. If you are reading this post at a site other than Bookfoolery or its RSS feed, you are reading a stolen feed. Email bookfoolery@gmail.com for written permission to reproduce text or photos.

The subtitle of Imprisoned by Martin W. Sandler says it all: The Betrayal of Japanese Americans During WWII. I don't know what made me mentally reduce this horror to the thought that perhaps it was merely immigrants, not naturalized citizens that were forced into prison camps in the U.S. during WWII, but boy was I wrong. They were not only citizens but some some were 2nd or 3rd generation and they were people who owned businesses, contributed immensely to the American economy as well as farming practices in the U.S. and were incredibly proud of being American citizens. As a result of hysteria, they were forced to sell their land and possessions for next to nothing, rounded up, and imprisoned in deliberately remote and hellish places. Now, I understand.
Imprisoned is an oversized book published for children by Walker Books for Young Readers (a Bloomsbury imprint) so it has lots of nice photographs and slightly large print but the author doesn't talk down to his audience. He clearly describes the politics involved in the unconstitutional decision to put American citizens in camps, the racial prejudice Japanese Americans had been dealing with since their arrival, the living conditions and the horror of losing everything they'd worked for, the amazing strength of character and creativity shown by those imprisoned and the various attempts at reparation and results. So, there's plenty of material that adults may enjoy every bit as much as the targeted younger audience. I bought my copy and I'm glad I did. I'll be referring back to it and looking up some of the other books mentioned.
Yet another purchase, I bought both Boxers and Saints by Gene Luen Yang, companion graphic novels that tell the story of the Boxer Rebellion from two differing viewpoints.Boxers tells the story from the viewpoint of a young boy called Little Bao who sees the Christians in China as foreign devils and a threat, while Saints tells the side of a young Chinese girl (called Four Girl by her family) who becomes a Christian and is able to acquire a real name of her own, Vibiana. Their stories intersect when they cross paths as children and again when one kills the other as the Society of the Righteous and Harmonious Fist (to which Little Bao belongs) violently overtakes the Christians.
I read Boxers and Saints because I loved The Eternal Smile and American Born Chinese by Yang. I can't say I loved Boxers and Saints as much, but I did like them and reading graphic novels is a tremendously palatable way to learn a bit about history. I'd heard about the Boxer Rebellion but if you'd asked me what it was before I read Boxers and Saints, I probably would have said, "The year everyone decided to leave out the Christmas decorations, maybe?" or something equally inane.
There are elements of magical realism to the stories but I don't feel like saying much more. Andi's review of Boxers and Saints is much better than anything I can think of to say. You should read it.
Speaking of Andi, The Haunting of Hill House by Shirley Jackson is a book I read casually as part of a read-along (IOW, I didn't officially sign up to participate), although I never saw any mention of a hashtag and it took me forever to figure out the read-along was hosted by The Estella Society, not Estella's Revenge. Close but no cigar.
I've read Shirley Jackson's short story collection, The Lottery, and We Have Always Lived in the Castle (pre-blog), but this was my first reading of The Haunting of Hill House.
Known as a horror classic, The Haunting of Hill House tells the story of a man named Dr. Montague who has spent years seeking out a haunted house to observe as an experiment. Four characters end up staying in Hill House. Dr. Montague is in charge, of course. Eleanor is a lonely single woman who is looking for adventure and a fresh start after spending much of her adulthood caring for her mother. Theodora is a spirited, happy-go-lucky woman; to her the stay at Hill House is a bit of a lark. Luke, son of the owners and future inheritor of Hill House, is described as a liar but never really gave me the sense that he was an unreliable character, although I wouldn't think of him as trustworthy, either.
The house gives off evil vibes and Eleanor, in particular, seems to be targeted by its antics, inside and out. Even outdoors, bizarre things happen. Eleanor is the most sensitive to psychic phenomenon, having been the victim of a possible gremlin (I think -- not sure I'm remembering right) when she was young. Dr. Montague has informed them that once the house decides to claim someone, they will die trying to get away. Will the 4 visitors survive the escalating terror alive?
I'm not going to give anything away but there were definitely moments The Haunting of Hill House scared the bejeezus out of me. I particularly loved reading the book for the historical perspective, though. Since it was published in 1959, there were oddities of speech and perspective from that time period. I particularly found it interesting that Eleanor thought she was being just a little bit wild when she set out a pair of slacks to wear and mentioned how horrified her mother would be (dresses and skirts only, ladies!) I've been around long enough to have lived with an elementary school dress code in which girls were forbidden to wear pants with one exception: matching pantsuits were allowed. Hard to fathom, today, isn't it? Definitely recommended. I really enjoyed The Haunting of Hill House and will return to it when I want to be creeped out, in the future.
I recommend all four of these books, but among them Imprisoned and The Haunting of Hill House were my 5-star reads; Boxers and Saints got 4 stars.
©2014 Nancy Horner. All rights reserved. If you are reading this post at a site other than Bookfoolery or its RSS feed, you are reading a stolen feed. Email bookfoolery@gmail.com for written permission to reproduce text or photos.
Monday, July 01, 2013
She Rises by Kate Worsley
She Rises by Kate Worsley
Copyright 2013
Bloomsbury - Historical Fictionl/LGBT
421 pp.
Publisher's description:
A panoramic historical novel of love, adventure and identity--with an astonishing twist.
It is 1740 and Louise Fletcher, a young [dairy] maid, has been warned of the lure of the sea for as long as she can remember--after all, it stole away her father and brother. But when she is offered work in the bustling naval port of Harwich serving a wealthy captain's daughter, she leaps at the chance to see more of the world. There she meets Rebecca, her haughty and fascinating mistress.
Intertwined with Louise's story is that of fifteen-year-old Luke, who is beaten and press ganged, sent to sea against his will on board the warship Essex in the service of His Majesty's Navy. He must learn fast and choose his friends well if he is to survive the brutal hardships of a sailor's life and its many dangers, both up high in the rigging and in the dark decks down below.
She Rises brings to vivid life both land and sea in Georgian England but explores a thoroughly modern and complex love story. Bold, brilliant and utterly original, She Rises is an accomplished and gripping search for identity and survival.
What that description doesn't tell you:
There should be some kind of warning about graphic sexuality, crude language and violence for people like me (softies, that is). You know, maybe just little icons of a boob, a mouth and a knife. The thing about She Rises is that it's about people who lived the harshest type of lives in the 18th century and it's told so well that you are there. Just to say the characters are men pressed into service for the British Navy and a young dairy maid who falls in love with her mistress doesn't cover it. You climb under the sheets (so to speak), listen to the swearing, see the cruelty and murder, hear the women scream as they're raped, walk through . . . gross stuff. Whether or not you can cope with that depends on the reader, of course, but I dislike graphic sexuality and the language in this book was about as vulgar as it gets, not to mention the bullying and violence. I could have used a little warning. I did finish the book, though, because . . .
Things I liked about She Rises:
There are two parallel stories about Louise and her brother Luke, as in the above description. Louise was happy as a dairy maid but couldn't turn down the offer to advance to a position as a ladies maid. The descriptions are always graphic and heavily descriptive. By the time Louise left her place in the kitchen, I was firmly convinced I knew how to make butter and wishing my mother had not sold her antique butter churn in a garage sale (something she always regretted, as well). She Rises has a seriously amazing sense of place, in other words.
Luke's story was one I tolerated well for a while because it's not so very different from some of the more frightening scenes in Hornblower or Master and Commander. If you've seen the movies (I've read one of the Horatio Hornblower books but none of the Aubrey/Maturin series), you know that living in close quarters in a boat is a lot like being trapped in a junior high locker room. There are bullies and fights, filthy language and crude jokes. You have to expect some of that. I was impressed with the depth of historical detail and I applaud the author's research and skill. However . . .
The things I didn't like outweighed the mind-boggling research and writing:
Unfortunately, a dairy maid's sweet affection eventually became a graphically-described lesbian affair. I'm okay with love stories but I don't like graphic sex scenes. If you've read my blog for any length of time, you're already aware of that. It didn't matter that the affair was between two females. The problem was that it was not only graphically described (I'm not interested in reading about what people do in bed, period -- brief scenes, fine, but just don't give me detail) but it was an extremely obsessive relationship between the two young women, not a healthy one, in my humble opinion.
And, on the ship . . . oh, Lord, the language, the conditions, the smells so well-described you wanted to hold your breath, the violence, the creeping terror that someone will kill you and toss you overboard in the night. Too much, too much for this gal.
However, and this is a big however:
If you can tolerate or don't mind the graphic sex, the crudity and the violence, She Rises does indeed have one of the most truly astonishing and unexpected surprise twists I've ever encountered. When I was struggling to decide whether or not I should go on, I skimmed a couple reviews and people mentioned "the twist" in a way that made me think it must be a rare surprise and they were certainly right about that. One of the reviewers said she skipped Luke's scenes because of all the blood and vomit, etc.. To do so would cause one to miss the point completely. You have to read the entire book and the shocking twist followed by the ending . . . they're exceptional.
The bottom line:
Iffy about recommendation - She Rises is a harsh read that is not for the faint of heart, but it is also a truly stunning and unique piece of writing with one of the most amazing twists I've ever read. It's raunchy, crude, violent, graphic and cruel and the "romance" so sadly unhealthy that the bad overshadowed the good for this reader, but I'm a softie so I know that won't be the case for everyone. I simply don't know who I'd recommend this book to, so I have to go with the "iffy" designation. It's a shame that something so stunningly researched and vivid is also in many ways repulsive.
Cover thoughts:
That is the coolest cover, ever, definitely one of my favorites of the year. If this book sells like hotcakes, I'll credit the cover for a good portion of its success.
My thanks to TLC Tours and Bloomsbury for the chance to read and review this title.
In other news:
As of Saturday, we are fostering a kitten currently named "Prissy" (if we get to the point of adoption, that name will change). She is a little ball of fire, energetic and spirited, personable but feisty. She's a people-cat who was bottle fed. I'm surprised Prissy wasn't immediately snapped up for adoption after her first owner returned her. Since we were the first people to pass muster and there's a special place in my heart for kitties that are adopted and then given back, I asked if we could give her a trial run.
First attempts to expose Miss Priss to Isabel and Fiona had a 50/50 success rate. Fiona hissed a little to make her place clear but was otherwise unruffled. Isabel pretty much went off her rocker. Prissy currently has a room of her own with toys, her bowls & litter box, a window and a nice little West Elm couch thingie (with that blanket she's lying on in the photo). We take turns going into the room to spend time with her so she won't get lonely and we'll try to let her out again, little by little, but she'll stay in her own room for a few days. Hopefully, the other kitties will get used to the new scent and not freak out. Well, the other kitty . . . Isabel. Fiona the Zen Kitty would let her hang out, no problem. Isn't Prissy a beauty?
Publisher's description:
A panoramic historical novel of love, adventure and identity--with an astonishing twist.
It is 1740 and Louise Fletcher, a young [dairy] maid, has been warned of the lure of the sea for as long as she can remember--after all, it stole away her father and brother. But when she is offered work in the bustling naval port of Harwich serving a wealthy captain's daughter, she leaps at the chance to see more of the world. There she meets Rebecca, her haughty and fascinating mistress.
Intertwined with Louise's story is that of fifteen-year-old Luke, who is beaten and press ganged, sent to sea against his will on board the warship Essex in the service of His Majesty's Navy. He must learn fast and choose his friends well if he is to survive the brutal hardships of a sailor's life and its many dangers, both up high in the rigging and in the dark decks down below.
She Rises brings to vivid life both land and sea in Georgian England but explores a thoroughly modern and complex love story. Bold, brilliant and utterly original, She Rises is an accomplished and gripping search for identity and survival.
What that description doesn't tell you:
There should be some kind of warning about graphic sexuality, crude language and violence for people like me (softies, that is). You know, maybe just little icons of a boob, a mouth and a knife. The thing about She Rises is that it's about people who lived the harshest type of lives in the 18th century and it's told so well that you are there. Just to say the characters are men pressed into service for the British Navy and a young dairy maid who falls in love with her mistress doesn't cover it. You climb under the sheets (so to speak), listen to the swearing, see the cruelty and murder, hear the women scream as they're raped, walk through . . . gross stuff. Whether or not you can cope with that depends on the reader, of course, but I dislike graphic sexuality and the language in this book was about as vulgar as it gets, not to mention the bullying and violence. I could have used a little warning. I did finish the book, though, because . . .
Things I liked about She Rises:
There are two parallel stories about Louise and her brother Luke, as in the above description. Louise was happy as a dairy maid but couldn't turn down the offer to advance to a position as a ladies maid. The descriptions are always graphic and heavily descriptive. By the time Louise left her place in the kitchen, I was firmly convinced I knew how to make butter and wishing my mother had not sold her antique butter churn in a garage sale (something she always regretted, as well). She Rises has a seriously amazing sense of place, in other words.
Luke's story was one I tolerated well for a while because it's not so very different from some of the more frightening scenes in Hornblower or Master and Commander. If you've seen the movies (I've read one of the Horatio Hornblower books but none of the Aubrey/Maturin series), you know that living in close quarters in a boat is a lot like being trapped in a junior high locker room. There are bullies and fights, filthy language and crude jokes. You have to expect some of that. I was impressed with the depth of historical detail and I applaud the author's research and skill. However . . .
The things I didn't like outweighed the mind-boggling research and writing:
Unfortunately, a dairy maid's sweet affection eventually became a graphically-described lesbian affair. I'm okay with love stories but I don't like graphic sex scenes. If you've read my blog for any length of time, you're already aware of that. It didn't matter that the affair was between two females. The problem was that it was not only graphically described (I'm not interested in reading about what people do in bed, period -- brief scenes, fine, but just don't give me detail) but it was an extremely obsessive relationship between the two young women, not a healthy one, in my humble opinion.
And, on the ship . . . oh, Lord, the language, the conditions, the smells so well-described you wanted to hold your breath, the violence, the creeping terror that someone will kill you and toss you overboard in the night. Too much, too much for this gal.
However, and this is a big however:
If you can tolerate or don't mind the graphic sex, the crudity and the violence, She Rises does indeed have one of the most truly astonishing and unexpected surprise twists I've ever encountered. When I was struggling to decide whether or not I should go on, I skimmed a couple reviews and people mentioned "the twist" in a way that made me think it must be a rare surprise and they were certainly right about that. One of the reviewers said she skipped Luke's scenes because of all the blood and vomit, etc.. To do so would cause one to miss the point completely. You have to read the entire book and the shocking twist followed by the ending . . . they're exceptional.
The bottom line:
Iffy about recommendation - She Rises is a harsh read that is not for the faint of heart, but it is also a truly stunning and unique piece of writing with one of the most amazing twists I've ever read. It's raunchy, crude, violent, graphic and cruel and the "romance" so sadly unhealthy that the bad overshadowed the good for this reader, but I'm a softie so I know that won't be the case for everyone. I simply don't know who I'd recommend this book to, so I have to go with the "iffy" designation. It's a shame that something so stunningly researched and vivid is also in many ways repulsive.
Cover thoughts:
That is the coolest cover, ever, definitely one of my favorites of the year. If this book sells like hotcakes, I'll credit the cover for a good portion of its success.
My thanks to TLC Tours and Bloomsbury for the chance to read and review this title.
In other news:
As of Saturday, we are fostering a kitten currently named "Prissy" (if we get to the point of adoption, that name will change). She is a little ball of fire, energetic and spirited, personable but feisty. She's a people-cat who was bottle fed. I'm surprised Prissy wasn't immediately snapped up for adoption after her first owner returned her. Since we were the first people to pass muster and there's a special place in my heart for kitties that are adopted and then given back, I asked if we could give her a trial run.
First attempts to expose Miss Priss to Isabel and Fiona had a 50/50 success rate. Fiona hissed a little to make her place clear but was otherwise unruffled. Isabel pretty much went off her rocker. Prissy currently has a room of her own with toys, her bowls & litter box, a window and a nice little West Elm couch thingie (with that blanket she's lying on in the photo). We take turns going into the room to spend time with her so she won't get lonely and we'll try to let her out again, little by little, but she'll stay in her own room for a few days. Hopefully, the other kitties will get used to the new scent and not freak out. Well, the other kitty . . . Isabel. Fiona the Zen Kitty would let her hang out, no problem. Isn't Prissy a beauty?
©2013 Nancy Horner. All rights reserved. If you are reading this post at a site other than Bookfoolery or its RSS feed, you are reading a stolen feed. Email bookfoolery@gmail.com for written permission to reproduce text or photos.
Tuesday, May 01, 2012
The Paper Garden by Molly Peacock
The Paper Garden: An Artist Begins Her Life's Work at 72 by Molly PeacockCopyright 2010
Bloomsbury - History/Biography/Memoir/Art
397 pp., incl. extensive bibliography and index
The subtitle and the gorgeous cover of the hardback copy of The Paper Garden (a poppy) drew me to this book. An artist who began her life's work at 72? One can always stand to read about something as hopeful as a dramatically late start in life. The Paper Garden had already been on my wish list for a year when I was contacted by TLC Tours. Would I like to review it? Why, yes, I certainly would.
As it turns out, The Paper Garden is not just about the paper artist, Mary Delany, and the artist didn't begin crafting and art in general at 72, but created her own method of paper collage at that age. The Paper Garden tells Mary Delany's entire life story but focuses on Delany's early artwork, her gardening, her two marriages and the long stretch of independence between those marriages and how they the combination of creativity and experience led to the making of her collages. Mixed in with Mary's story is a bit of memoir about the author, a poet who has drawn some parallels with her own life.
What I loved about The Paper Garden:
I adored the detail of Mary's life. She was truly an amazing woman; full of life, a woman of many lasting friendships, creative and intelligent, always busy, curious, engaged and engaging. While a major part of her broad creative work involves the fact that she was well-placed and suitably comfortable in life to have plenty of leisure time, I think I can safely say that Mary Delany used her time better than most. I enjoyed reading about her because she was a fascinating person and her master work, the flowers, capped off a vigorous, creative life. She was truly an amazing woman.
I've borrowed an image of one of the flower collages (a passionflower, which just happens to be one of my favorites of those few images in The Paper Garden) from the British Museum's website:
The detail is astounding. She cut all the tiny petals and curlicues after dyeing her paper and dissecting the flowers for accuracy of representation. And, then she added painted touches to shade and sometimes a real leaf of other part from the actual flower. Not only that, but she managed to amass a whopping 985 of these works of art before loss of vision halted her.
The detail is astounding. She cut all the tiny petals and curlicues after dyeing her paper and dissecting the flowers for accuracy of representation. And, then she added painted touches to shade and sometimes a real leaf of other part from the actual flower. Not only that, but she managed to amass a whopping 985 of these works of art before loss of vision halted her. Besides the fact that Delany's life and the historical context were engrossing, I loved the fact that the author was passionate about her interest in Delany's life and work. She did a tremendous job of research, including numerous interviews, and her eye for detail, while overwhelming at times, made for a well-rounded picture of a talented, strong, admirable woman of the 18th century.
What I disliked about The Paper Garden:
I was expecting a biography, not the memoir bits, and I can't say I loved reading about the author's life. There were some minor parallels, but for the most part I found Molly Peacock's life story interesting but less entertaining than that of Mary Delany and not particularly relevant.
But, what I really found appalling and the reason this book will come with a family warning was the sexualization of the flower descriptions -- as in "disgusting". I considered stopping at page 6, when I came to the first passage that I found offensive enough that you'll have to highlight to see two of the words:
They all come out of darkness, intense and vaginal, bright on their black backgrounds as if, had she possessed one, she had shined a flashlight on nine hundred and eighty-five flowers' c***s.
--from p. 6 of The Paper Garden
--from p. 6 of The Paper Garden
At one point, I was so irritated by the sexual references (flowers to body parts) that I handed the book to my husband and pointed out a passage to see if he felt the same. "You read vulgar stuff," he said. Exactly. I see flowers as objects of beauty for their color, delicacy and contrasts, not for their reproductive bits and pieces (I always felt that way about Georgia O'Keefe's paintings, as well -- they're gorgeous representations of life to me, nothing more). Fortunately, as the author and subject aged, the sexual references tapered off and the cringe moments ceased. The Paper Garden intrigued me enough that I've ordered a copy of Mrs. Delany, Her Life and Her Flowers by Ruth Hayden, a book that is frequently mentioned in The Paper Garden.
Recommendation:
4/5 - A thoroughly-researched, passionate account of the life and work of Mary Delany, sharply detailed and poetic but marred by the authors insistent sexuality (with special emphasis on female body parts). In spite of the bits I considered unnecessary and offensive, I found the book so engrossing that I just ignored the parts I disliked and plowed on. Still, the book deserves a family warning.
I do love flowers, don't you?
©2012 Nancy Horner. All rights reserved. If you are reading this post at a site other than Bookfoolery and Babble or its RSS feed, you are reading a stolen feed. Email bookfoolery@gmail.com for written permission to reproduce text or photos.
Saturday, March 05, 2011
The Butt Book by Bennett and Lester
Illustrated by Mike Lester
Copyright 2010
Bloomsbury - Children's (Ages 4-8)
32 pages
Eyes and ears are much respected,
but the butt has been neglected.
We hope to change that here and now.
Would the butt please take a bow?
So begins The Butt Book, one of the funniest children's books I've read -- and there is nothing I love more than an excuse to laugh. The Butt Book is just plain silly. I read it to my cats and I read it to my husband. My husband snickered pretty much all the way through. Fiona took it very seriously:
Buttocks is the formal name--
and no two buttocks are the same.
Butts can come in every size.
Some will droop and others rise.
The Butt Book continues with a "celebration" of backsides, including words for bottoms used in other cultures, pictures of animal rear ends, and descriptions of the heinie's usefulness (don't worry -- nothing disgusting), including a nice padding to sit upon. The illustrations are as hilarious as the text and delightfully bright and cheery.
By far my favorite part of The Butt Book (shown here on the back cover, although it's also a page inside the book):
Why do we have butts? Perchance,
a place to place our underpants?
Any mother of little boys has probably seen this view a time or two. Both of my boys thought it was hilarious to pretend their underpants were hats. Believe it or not, that image brought back fond memories. I loved The Butt Book and so did everyone else I showed it to, although one of them yawned a lot. But, Izzy needed her nap desperately. Cats make excellent audiences, awake or not, if you're lacking in small children. Many thanks to the author for sending me a copy of The Butt Book, which will find its way into the hands of a little tyke of my acquaintance!
©2011 Nancy Horner. All rights reserved. If you are reading this post at a site other than Bookfoolery and Babble or its RSS feed, you are reading a stolen feed. Email bookfoolery@gmail.com for written permission to reproduce text or photos.
Saturday, February 12, 2011
How to Ditch Your Fairy by Justine Larbalestier
How to Ditch Your Fairy by Justine Larbalestier

Copyright 2008
Bloomsbury - Young Adult/Fantasy
305 pp. incl., List of Known Fairies and Glossary
In New Avalon, everyone has a personal fairy, although not everyone believes they exist. Charlie's stuck with a parking fairy; whenever she rides in a vehicle of any kind its driver finds the perfect parking spot. A perfect nuisance is what her fairy is. Charlie doesn't even drive. Her best friend has a clothes-shopping fairy and the most hated girl in school, Fiorenze, has an all-boys-will-like-you fairy. Either of those would be preferable to a parking fairy.
Charlie has heard that to drive your fairy away, you must not give the fairy a chance to use its special magic, essentially boring the fairy so thoroughly that it decides to leave. With that in mind, Charlie's been walking everywhere for 60 days. And, she intends to keep walking until she's certain her fairy is gone, in spite of all the demerits she's racking up for arriving at her high school classes late. But, what Charlie doesn't realize is that there are consequences to changing fairies that she can't possibly anticipate.
I really had no idea what I was getting into when I grabbed How to Ditch Your Fairy off the library shelf. I've heard of Justine Larbalestier, thanks to the big cover controversy over another of her books, Liar, but I haven't read Liar and it was really just a combination of familiar author name, cute cover, serendipity and a pinch of impulse that led me to check the book out. It's the fact that I just realized the book is way overdue that's nudged me to write a review. Oops.
How to Ditch Your Fairy is charming and lively, with a heroine who is both hilarious and enchanting. She has a crush on the new boy at school and he seems interested in her when they're alone, but Fiorenze (whom she refers to as "Fiorenze Stupid-Name" because of her fancy, hyphenated last name) can't help but draw him away because of her boys-will-always-like-you-fairy. Fiorenze, as it turns out, is the only person who can help Charlie rid herself of that annoying fairy and, in the process, the strange boy who keeps kidnapping her so that he can always get a good parking spot when he needs one. Fiorenze's parents are experts on fairies. To discover the secret of how to ditch a fairy, Fiorenze and Charlie will need to work together to find a way to peek into the unpublished book her mother has written.
There is so much to How to Ditch Your Fairy that you wouldn't expect from looking at its cover. It's clever and original with surprisingly sharp writing in spite of its obvious levity. The heroine is likable and feisty -- there are plenty of unique challenges for her to deal with, some of which are so hilarious that I don't think you could have much more fun without requiring stitches. Charlie learns a few good lessons but the author doesn't bog the story down by trying too hard to make it meaningful. It's just good, clean fun. The characters in New Avalon have a private language all their own, hence the glossary, and even that little bit of lingo is a treat.
The bottom line:
A unique story, great characters and magical, clean entertainment, perfect for when you're looking for something light and humorous. I'm really going to hate taking this one back to the library. It seems like it would be an awfully fun book to keep for a reread during times I'm in need of an upper. Highly recommended.
Finally, I kept a week's worth of mailbox books together long enough to photograph!
Top to bottom:
Strangers by Taichi Yamada
Summer at Tiffany by Marjorie Hart
The Revenge of the Radioactive Lady by Elizabeth Stuckey-French (ARC from Doubleday)
Radio Shangri-La by Lisa Napoli (ARC from Crown)
The True and Authentic History of Jenny Dorset by Philip Lee Williams
The Butt Book by Artie Bennett (for review, from the author)
Strangers, Summer at Tiffany and Jenny Dorset are all swap books.
The color isn't anywhere close to reality but the background behind those books is a freshly-painted corner of my office. It'll probably continue to be an in-progress painting job for a few more weeks because my husband and I are really slow and don't work well together. I like a room to be completely empty before I paint and he likes to just toss drop-cloths over everything. I fill in every little dent and nick; he likes to just slap on paint and call the job done. It usually takes a few weeks of his paint-slapping and my convincing before everything gets moved out and we finish the job. Strange, I know, but I'm so excited about updating the office that I'm just going to Make It So. Thank you, Jean-Luc, for the inspiration.
Thursday, December 30, 2010
Need by Carrie Jones or The Book That Yanked Me out of Vacation Mode
Copyright 2009
Bloomsbury - Young Adult/Paranormal
306 pages
Need begins a paranormal young adult series that takes place in Maine, where Zara has moved after the death of her stepfather left her so paralyzed with grief that her mother thinks she needs a change of scenery. Later in the book, you find out there's more to the move from Charleston than just Zara's depression, but that's a spoiler I can't share with you.
In Maine, Zara quickly finds herself with one instant enemy, an energetic best friend and two handsome admirers. She also discovers that the man who seemed to be stalking her in Charleston was not a figment of her imagination, after all. He's still following her and wherever he goes, gold pixie dust is left behind.
Yep, this one has to do with pixies. It's amazing what a variety of paranormal books have become available in the past couple of years. This one contains pixies and their natural enemies -- the were, as in "werewolves" but not just wolves fall into the "were" category.
Need is enthralling, romantic (the guy she falls for is definitely every woman's dream -- maybe even a bit too perfect, at times) and at times very exciting. There were a few too many times I found myself mentally chanting at the heroine to go back inside, back inside, listen to the warnings everyone's giving you. But, other than that and the occasional grammatical error, the book is a good one and I'm definitely going to continue reading this series.
Which brings to mind the fact that I'm not normally a person who enjoys series books. I don't know what it is about paranormal YA books that I find so compelling -- maybe the fact that they're extremely escapist reads? But, I do find that I'm reading more series books since such a broad variety of paranormal young adult books have come on the market.
The cover is kind of bland, in my humble opinion, but it fits because of the gold pixie dust and the fact that a pixie kiss (which is something you really don't want to happen to you -- just do not kiss a pixie if you're ever tempted) figures into the storyline.
I checked this book out from the public library in my town. Their YA section is really improving, but there's a little irony . . . most of the YA books I check out seem to have been purchased with grant money from International Paper. How fascinating is that? By giving grant money for book purchases, they end up selling more paper.
In other news:
I'm really, really sick of housework and have a long way to go because Kiddo will be home, this semester (taking some of his core classes locally) and we've got to find a way to create a comfortable, quiet study area for him -- not easy in our crowded little house. Someone send me a house fairy? The good kind, of course -- the ones who magically make the messes go away and the tub scrub itself.
I have been pondering my 2011 reading and blogging goals, working on my list of all the books I read (with links -- that was really tiring) and gathering books for my personal challenge, which I'll tell you more about, later. There will be photographs. I know how you love photographs.
Both my husband and I have such small families that we get almost zippo gifts, so we just go out and buy ourselves one big gift, each year. I sent hubby out to buy little me a reader. At this point, I'm calling her Petunia and she only contains free books because my finger hasn't accidentally slipped and hit the "buy this book" button when the price has been over $0.00. <--- I love that price.
Hope you're all having a good time soaking up the post-holiday joy, preparing for the new year and reading, reading, reading all those presents you got. You got books, right? Technically, I didn't get any, however, Hubby kindly gave me a Borders gift card. I'll use it soon. I'm worried about Borders' financial health and mourning the closing of Davis-Kidd Booksellers in Nashville, a magical place I had hoped to return to on future visits to Nashville. I cried alligator tears when I saw pictures of the empty shelves. Call me a sap, but that place was awesome.
Off to knock a random family member off my reading spot.
:)
Tuesday, June 01, 2010
Field Notes from a Catastrophe by Elizabeth Kolbert
Field Notes from a Catastrophe: Man, Nature and Climate Change
By Elizabeth Kolbert
Copyright 2006
Bloomsbury - Non-fiction/Science/Environment
225 pages, incl. chronology, index, selected resources, bibliography and notes
As the snow is compressed, its crystal structure changes to ice. (Two thousand feet down, there is so much pressure on the ice that a sample drawn to the surface will, if mishandled, fracture, and in some cases even explode.) But in most other respects, the snow remains unchanged, a relic of the climate that first formed it. In the Greenland ice, there is nuclear fallout from early atomic tests, volcanic ash from Krakatau, lead pollution from ancient Roman smelters, and dust blown in from Mongolia on ice age winds. Every layer also contains tiny bubbles of trapped air, each of them a sample of a past atmosphere. --p. 30
The Vostok core, which is now stored in pieces in Denver, Grenoble, and on Antarctica, contains a continuous climate record stretching back four full glacial cycles. --p. 129
In legitimate scientific circles, it is virtually impossible to find evidence of disagreement over the fundamentals of global warming. Naomi Oreskes, a professor of history and science studies at the University of California at San Diego, recently tried to quantify the level of consensus. She conducted a study of more than nine hundred articles on climate change published in refereed journals between 1993 and 2003 and subsequently made available on a leading research database. Of these, she found that 75 percent endorsed the view that anthropogenic [human-caused] emissions were responsible for at least some of the observed warming of the past fifty years. The remaining 25 percent, which dealt with questions of methodology or climate history, took no position on current conditions. Not a single article disputed the premise that anthropogenic warming is under way. --p. 164
To research climate change, Elizabeth Kolbert traveled around the world, speaking to scientists who study changes in not only climate but flora and fauna affected by climate changes. In Field Notes from a Catastrophe, she explains in clear (but sometimes a little technical) terms how and why recent climate change has been proven to be man-made and what we can expect if changes aren't made . . . well, yesterday. It's been 4 or 5 years since the book was published and things were already looking ominous.
Field Notes from a Catastrophe is definitely a scary book. One scientist made a discovery that led him to go home and tell his wife that the good news is that the job is going well and the bad news is that the verdict is pretty much the end of life as we know it, not that far down the road.
Combine the text of this book with the daily reports of oil gushing into the Gulf of Mexico and it's a little hard to be optimistic about life on Earth continuing for as long as we'd like. The most fascinating facts, in my opinion, were some parallel discoveries by scientists in totally different fields. One discovered a buried city in the region of ancient Babylonia and came to the conclusion that a severe drought that lasted for many, many years led to the death of that city. Written records of that particular city and its lasting drought (unfortunately, I didn't mark those bits and can't recall the name) were previously thought to be mere legend but were proven accurate. At the same time, another scientist determined that the same drought was responsible for the end of the Mayan civilization.
The conclusion: (in my words) There is a breaking point beyond which civilizations cannot continue and humans die off -- even in advanced civilizations with specialized means for growing and storing agricultural products.
Meanwhile, a warming Earth means changing precipitation patterns. Just as some regions, like the American Midwest, are predicted to suffer from drought, others will experience more--at least more intense--rainfall. The effect is likely to be particularly punishing in some of the most densely populated regions on Earth, including the Mississippi Delta, the Ganges Delta, and the Thames basin. A study commissioned a few years ago by the British government concluded that under certain conditions, floods of a magnitude now expected no more often than once a century could, by 2080, be occurring in England once every three years. (As it happened, the very week I was in the Netherlands, thirteen people were killed by exceptionally heavy winter storms in Britain and Scandinavia.) --pp. 125-6
4.5/5 - Comprehensive research; excellent writing. A book that will leave no doubt as to how and why we've been misled into believing that the scientific community is divided on the issue of climate change and how much evidence there is to show that global warming is a catastrophe in progress.
I ordered my copy of Field Notes from a Catastrophe from Paperback Swap after reading about it in Nick Hornby's Shakespeare Wrote for Money, which I've yet to review. I'm not sure I'll forgive Hornby for a while. This book is frankly terrifying, although I certainly feel like Kolbert did such a great job of explaining ice core samples that anyone who has been misled into believing climate change is a farce should be able to read this book and understand just how much evidence there is of climate change over, literally, hundreds of thousands of years and how scientists are able to determine that recent change is human-driven.
There is also some explanation of the Bush administration's fascinating level of disinformation, the U.S.'s embarrassing behavior at Kyoto and wobbly American policies that pretty much negated any potential progress toward slowing global warming, in recent years. China is predicted to become the biggest contributor to climate change, in the near future.
The good news? Flowers are still blooming in Vicksburg. It's not over, yet.
More photos forthcoming. We're really colorful, at the moment.
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