Into the West (1992)

 

Although it may be a little intense for young tykes due to its alcoholism, poverty, and prejudice themes, "Into the West" is an overall charming and appealing family film with a compelling storyline. It's plot is hugely unbelievable (two Irish lads rescue their magnificent white horse from an abusive owner and ride across Ireland evading the authorities at every turn,) but something about this story touched a warm fuzzy place in my heart.

   Gabriel Byrne plays the alcoholic father of two young boys, Ossie and Tito (Ciarán Fitzgerald and Rúaidhrí Conroy,) who live with their perpetually drunk dad in a squalid Irish tenement building. The boy's grandfather (David Kelly) is the proud owner of Tir Na Nog, a beautiful white horse. When Tito and Ossie decide to smuggle Tir Na Nog into the apartment (not an easy feat considering the tiny size of the place is barely livable for a family of three,) the police confiscate the horse and give him to a shady and rich hobbyist.

   The duo track down the horse-owner and steal back the steed, riding him across the hills and fields of Ireland and getting into all sorts of trouble along the way. Meanwhile, their father John gets back in touch with his gypsy heritage and reconnects with Kathleen (Ellen Barkin,) an old friend in an attempt to track his sons.

   John is a interestingly compelling and three-dimensional character- sometimes volatile, sometimes violent, he loves his sons but constantly manages to disappoint them. He pressures the illiterate oldest (Tito) to learn to read because as it so happens, he cannot. Tito does not appreciate the fact that his father is trying to do what is best for him, and he and his brother believe John does not love them. Gabriel Byrne plays John as occasionally heroic, sometimes pathetic, but never as a blunt, angry stereotype.

  There are fantasy elements considering the almost supernatural majesty of the horse, but they never take over the human element of the story, which is closer to British Social Realism than director Mike Newell's later J.K. Rowling adaptation "Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire." While "Goblet of Fire" is my favorite Harry Potter adaptation, "Into the West" is a little more low-key, more about growing up and learning to let go that sorcery and magic.

   There are relevant social commentary (reflected by the prejudice towards the 'travelers,' the pressure of impoverished conditions, and the less-than-kosher treatment of the horse by the rich horse breeder,) and the acting is pretty strong overall, especially by Gabriel Byrne and the oldest son Rúaidhrí Conroy, although the performance by Ciarán Fitzgerald (Ossie) can be a little tiresome.

   Overall, "Into the West" is a good kid's movie with a lot of heart. Consider this a a superior alternative for teens and tweens to the the "Twilight" films and "Alvin and the Chipmunks- The Squeakquel" (God help me.) It is a rarity-  strong and underrated family film that remains interesting after you turn ten. Worth watching for kids and adults alike.
                                        Rating-
                                              8.0/10

Paperhouse (1988)

When I was a little girl, my younger brother and I were convinced if we strapped enough household wires to each other and fell asleep in the same bed, we could meet each other in our dreams. Of course, my mom told us it was impossible, but that didn't stop us from trying. Children with my wild imagination and faith in the impossible would love the concept of "Paperhouse."

   Of course, "Paperhouse" has a very adult angle that makes it, ultimately, best for grown-ups. 11-year-old Anna (Charlotte Burke,) who is at that age where kids mouth off to their elders and will pick a fight over absolutely anything, faints in school on her birthday and is discovered to have a raging fever.

   Bizarrely, when Anna faints, she discovers that when she's unconscious or asleep, she enters a world entirely unlike her own- to be precise, to a remote house she has drawn before her dizzy spells began. In the house she meets a boy, physically handicapped Marc (Elliot Speirs, who died at a tragically young age,) who bears startling similarities to a boy with muscular dystrophy who Anna's doctor (Gemma Jones) is seeing, and who Anna has never met outside to dream world.

Film Review: The Deep Blue Sea (Mild Spoilers)

The Deep Blue Sea (2012) Directed by Terence Davies, Screenplay by Terence Davies based on the play by Terence Rattigan.

Hester Collyer (Rachel Weisz) is married to a much older man. She and her scholarly husband Bill (Simon Russell Beale) seem to have an affectionate connection. But frankly, he is a bit of a repressed mama's boy, and Hester is longing for more fun and passion.

She falls in love with Freddie Page (Tom Hiddleston), a Royal Air Force pilot. When Hester is unable to obtain a divorce, they attempt to live together as husband and wife, but they seem to be leading each other down a self-destructive path.

Film Review: The Ice Storm

The Ice Storm (1997) Directed by Ang Lee, Screenplay by James Schamus based on the novel by Rick Moody.

Book Review: Genus by Jonathan Trigell -- Dark Dystopian Fiction, Anyone?

Publication Date: 2011

Publisher: Corsair, Constable & Robinson, Ltd.

Format: Paperback

Genre:  Literary Fiction/Dystopian

Why I Chose It: Because it was written by the author of Boy A, which I loved; many thanks to the author and publisher who kindly gave me a copy of this novel with no obligation to publish a review.

Rating: (5/5 stars)

Book Review: Boy A by Jonathan Trigell

This is probably the most painful book I've ever read. It's the only novel I remember making me feel physically sick at times. Not because it was gory or deliberately calibrated for shock value. It wasn't. It was just so vivid, heart-wrenching and raw.

This might not sound like a glowing recommendation for a book I'm giving a rare 5-star review. But honestly, even after having much of the story "spoiled" by seeing the excellent film adaptation, I found this so compelling I didn't want to put it aside. The story was well-crafted, the writing gorgeous, and the characters and story impossible to get out from under my skin. I was torn between the painful feelings the book evoked and wanting to focus on the words and savor the rich, beautiful writing.

Boy A, who is never named, grows up in a part of England that seems to have abandoned hope. His father seems inexplicably estranged from him and his mum, he doesn't fare well in school, and he is the constant target of bullies. He finally finds a sense of safety, and his first experience with friendship, when he meets Boy B, who is clearly disturbed and harboring a volatile streak of rage.

Boy B is an expert at adapting to survive. He adopts the posture and attitude he needs to hold his own on the street, amid gangsters and bullies. Later, in prison, Boy B will learn a new demeanor and attitude, evolving as many times as he needs to in order to stay alive. On the streets of their hometown, Boy A learns a few survival skills from Boy B. They stop bothering to show up at school -- it's just as well; the teachers have clearly long since given up on them. They live in the shadows, lurking under bridges, in an abandoned park, and in other secret places where they feel safe and alive.

Later, after being convicted of a brutal crime, loathed by shocked and grieving citizens and exploited by the press, the two boys live parallel lives in correctional institutions. Ironically, it is here that we see their budding potential. Unsuspected reservoirs of strength and perseverance. Intelligence that their families and teachers never suspected. We begin to wonder if they are redeemable, and if they might finally get the chance their childhoods denied them.

As a 24-year-old, Boy A is released. Guided by his mentor, Terry, who has been his lifeline throughout his years of incarceration, he christens himself "Jack" and begins a new life under his new identity.

Two threads run throughout this book. In the first, we see the two boys' childhood experiences and their lives while incarcerated. There are shifts in time, and the author artfully doesn't let us learn the full truth about what happened on the day of the crime until the novel has nearly ended. So the reader suspends judgment, waits to hear all the facts before jumping to conclusions, and keeps an open heart. This is a benefit kids like Boy A and Boy B rarely get in real life.

In the second thread, Jack builds his new life.The author does an excellent job of showing how Jack is overwhelmed by the real world and quotidian life at first:

He realizes ‘wide world’ is not just an expression. Streets are broad, houses high, horizons unimaginably vast, even corner shops are commodious. Big dens of pop and videos, fags and beer. The trees are greener close up, the walls are redder, the windows more see-through. He wants to tell Terry all of this, and more. He wants to tell him how great wheely bins are, how every house should have a name like the one back there did, how telephone wires drape like bunting. He wants to shake Terry’s hand with thanks and hug him with excitement and have Terry hold him tight to quell the fear.

And:

She smiles broadly when she looks at Jack’s again. But he flicks his gaze away to his feet. She dizzies him. Jack’s not exactly well versed in flirting. There were long years when the only women he saw were a few prison teachers. Some didn’t bother to contain their loathing. ‘So when are you going to take me out for a drink, Jack?’ She’s joking but she means it too. Jack is stumped, stunned; he feels his worldly ignorance around his neck like the corpse of an albatross. Its huge wingspan is knocking over the furniture. He’s not ready for this yet.

However Jack savors the small privileges of freedom, earning a salary, meeting friends, and falling in love.

Just for an instant, before they go in, Jack looks up at the night sky and is struck by the unreality of it all. This feels like another world, another lifetime. A cool late summer’s breeze blows him the perfume of a beautiful black girl who’s one place in front. He’s with his friend Chris and his new friend Steve the mechanic. He has drunk tequila, and told people his favourite film; it’s The Blues Brothers. He didn’t know that until tonight. And inside this club, this wide-windowed warehouse, is the girl who maybe, just maybe, he could love. Jack is torn between bitterness, that he has been deprived of all this for so long, and feeling that this moment has made every other moment worth while.

Other threads are woven in, here and there. We briefly see the story through the eyes of Boy A's parents, Terry, Terry's son, and Jack's new girlfriend, Michelle. We see the little events set in motion that -- bit by bit -- destroy each character's life. The character studies and intermingled stories are magnificent.

This is a story in which innocence and evil sit side by side and often seem flipped around. Children are convicted of horrible deeds. Do we loathe them more because they seem capable of such atrocities at such a tender age, or does that predispose us to forgive them and want them to find redemption? The Juvenile Detention Center is, ironically, more brutal than the adult prison where Boy A is later sent. Jack has experienced -- and presumably committed -- more brutality in his 24 years than most people do in a lifetime, yet when released into the real world, he seems inexperienced, naive, and surprisingly open-hearted. This juxtaposition and reversal of depravity and innocence run throughout the novel, keeping us unsettled, making us think. And this author has the rare gift of making us feel empathy and loathing for the same characters, which is unnerving, painful, and enlightening.

The novel is also an indictment of the process of trial-by-media that contaminates the justice system. And it looks at the arbitrary bits and pieces of observations, feelings, and prejudices on which people base judgments.

His teacher, Mrs Johnston, née Grey, disillusioned and going through divorce, thought him lazy like his left eye. She noticed that he always seemed to be dirty, and looked like he’d been fighting. Other children told on him, even some of her nicest girls. There could be no smoke without fire. Besides, he had the same startling blue irises as her filthy, philandering fuck of a husband. Though she neglected to mention this last point at the trial.

The most harrowing thing about the novel, for me, was its study of the many ways children are damaged, by society, by adults, and by each other. I suspect I'll be thinking about this book for years, and this is the thing that's likely to stick with me the most sharply.

I have plenty of other thoughts about this novel I'd like to discuss, but I am trying to avoid spoilers. I may include some of these in a separate post. Since I finished reading Boy A, a few hours ago, I have been anxious to talk to someone about it. If anyone has read this novel, or would like to, are you interested in a read-long or discussion?

Other Reviews of Boy A:

• Notes of a Book Dreamer
• Bart's Bookshelf
• The 3 Rs -- Reading, Ranting & Recipes (Now Jasmine Tea & Jiaozi)

Rating: 5/5

5- Cherished Favorite	4 - Keep in My Library	3 - Good Read	2 - Meh	1 - Definitely Not For Me

Film Review: Boy A

Notes: This film is based on the novel Boy A by Jonathan Trigell. This review contains minor spoilers.

"Jack" (Andrew Garfield) -- formerly known as Eric Wilson -- is a young man, newly released from prison, seeking a fresh start with a new identity. As a child, he participated in a heinous crime. He must quickly learn to be an adult and function in the world. He is guided by "Uncle Terry" (Peter Mullen), who has devoted his life to mentoring troubled youth. Terry is compassionate, supportive, and optimistic; he is also a problem drinker who has been estranged from his own son.

The movie follows two parallel story lines. In one, we see Eric as a lonely, estranged child whose parents are emotionally paralyzed by his mother's illness. He is unsuccessful in school, friendless, and a target for bullies. When he meets a troubled boy named Philip Craig (Taylor Doherty), who has a chilling tendency toward sociopathic rage, they quickly form a close bond.  In the other story line, we see the adult Jack embarking on his new life, with all its successes and missteps.

In some ways, Jack -- whose childhood was cut short by his incarceration -- still seems like a young kid. He appears innocent, kind, and socially awkward, quickly winning the viewer's affection and empathy before we know anything about his past.  This guides us in the direction the film-maker wants us to go. When the story of Jack's past begins to unfold, we have already formed a bond with this character. Even as we learn the darker aspects of his story, we care for him, trust him, and root for him to succeed. This is a reversal of what Jack faces if his identity is revealed. The public has already seen "Boy A" in the courtroom, a child who committed an incomprehensible atrocity. If that becomes known, no one will look past that, seeing the man he has become.

Throughout the course of the film, Jack reveals courage, loyalty, and a capacity for love. He soon finds a new friend, Chris (Shaun Evans) and an affectionate, compassionate young woman, Michelle (Katie Lyons). However, as he finds himself falling in love for the first time, it becomes increasingly difficult to hide the truth. 

Boy A is one of those films that -- for me -- is hard to leave behind. This story is told onscreen with lifelike realism, and Jack and Michelle are so young and utterly likeable. Terry, as the dedicated, caring, and flawed rehabilitation worker, seeking validation for himself -- and perhaps redemption for his damaged relationship with his own son -- through his work, is particularly memorable. I'll admit there was a moment when I felt a little manipulated by the movie. Nevertheless, I found it heart-wrenching, and I haven't been able to stop thinking about the story and characters.

This film offers excellent writing, acting, and direction. Andrew Garfield stands out. I saw and liked him in The Social Network and Never Let Me Go, but I thought this performance, by far, exceeded the others. The imagery, created by camera angles and the way shots were framed, also helped draw me more deeply into the story and the lives of its characters.

In ways this is a challenging movie. It asks us to wrestle with difficult questions. Are some crimes, regardless of the mitigating circumstances, unforgivable? Even if the perpetrator was a child? Is it ever just to incarcerate a child? If a criminal is capable of change, does he necessarily deserve a second chance? Can a good deed balance out or erase a bad deed? And on another level, how does a person glean his sense of identity? Is it comprised of how he sees himself or who others believe he is?  

Boy A asks us to explore these questions without providing all the facts. We are left with unanswered questions about the young protagonist. First and foremost, what exactly was his role in the crime? We never see exactly what happened and who did the deed. What motivated young Eric to be involved in the incident for which he was condemned? Was it loyalty? Fear? Cowardice? In the gaps between the events of this movie, there are shadowy areas that leave us wondering.

The result is a movie that is thought-provoking as well as emotionally wrenching. I suspect it will continue to stick with me, provoking uneasy thoughts and feelings, for a long time.

Rating: (4.5/5)

Cherished Favorite	Excellent Film	Good Movie	Meh	Definitely Not For Me

Harbor by John Ajvide Lindqvist

Domaro, an isolated little island in a Swedish archipelago, is home to a handful of local families -- the descendants of fishermen -- and an ever-returning group of summer folk. On the shores of Domaro, a young boy and girl begin to fall in love as they contemplate the enormity of the sea, which has been gradually reclaiming its islands -- bit by bit -- since the Ice Age.

Years later, on a winter afternoon, Anders and Cecilia take their six-year-old daughter Maja across the ice to visit the lighthouse in the middle of the frozen channel. While the couple explores the lighthouse, Maja disappears -- seemingly into thin air -- leaving not even a footprint in the snow. 

Two years later, Anders returns to the island, shattered and dependent on alcohol to get through the day. He reconnects with his grandmother, Anna-Greta, a native of Domaro, and her lover Simon. Odd things begin to happen in the house Anders once shared with his wife and daughter, and he senses Maja's presence. Then other strange things begin to happen, and some of them are reminiscent of ugly secrets from Anders's adolescence.

Anna-Greta and the other inhabitants of the island are hiding secrets of their own, including a dark secret that's centuries old. As more and more strange, tragic things take place, she must share these secrets with Simon and Anders so they can survive and Anders can try to find Maja and bring her back.

This novel seized my interest from the first few pages. First and foremost, Lindqvist is a master at exploring human psychology. Everything -- from the tender, budding feelings of a 13-year-old boy falling in love for the first time to the raw, crippling grief of a bereaved father -- felt vibrantly real. Lindqvist is also brilliant at creating fear and guilt, including guilt triggered by the ambivalence some parents feel toward their own children. This is largely what drew me in, eager to be part of the characters' lives, and what made this story work on a visceral level.

I was intrigued by the cast of quirky characters. This included a widowed young mother who survived through trading with World War II soldiers and occasional bootlegging, a professional magician, and a lighthouse keeper with an endless thirst for solitude who studies the Bible and greets visitors with the word of God -- because nothing drives people away as quickly as preaching at them.

I especially enjoyed the relationship between octogenarians Anna-Greta and Simon. It's rare -- at least in our culture -- to read about an intimate romance between two older people. I found this believable, interesting, and refreshing.

Lindqvist also captivated me with his elegant use of language and lovely imagery and the way he uses language and imagery to create an eerie mood. 

     The trees felled by the storm lay there like long-necked, thirsty dinosaurs, stretching out all the way to the water's edge ...

... the fallen fir trees were still there, dark, gloomy tree trunks lying across the rocks, with the odd branch sticking up out of the water here and there like the arms of skeletons pleading for help, ignored and rejected by one and all.

     The moon had begun to tire and shrink, balancing helplessly on the branches of the few firs still standing. Veils of cloud drifted past, and as Anders drew closer Kattholmen was bathed in a light with no luminosity, like aged aluminum. He rounded the northern point where a concrete buoy marked a shipping lane that was no longer used, and continued along the rocky shore on the eastern side of the island. (p. 448)

The only thing that disappointed me was the ending. Most of the novel moved rather slowly, with great attention to detail. I appreciated this, because it allowed time to develop the various threads of the story. But after all that, I expected a richly satisfying conclusion. However, the novel ended abruptly. The supernatural threads of the story were never completely woven together, and I was pushed quickly out of this world, without time to gain closure with the characters with whom I'd lived for 500 pages. Perhaps the author intended to leave us with a sense of mystery and unanswered questions? I don't know, but it didn't work for me.

Overall, this was an absorbing novel, and in some ways it was even richer than the author's previous books: Let the Right One In and Handling the Undead. The thing Lindqvist does best, seamlessly blending psychological and supernatural horror, is what really shines here. This created characters and scenes that will be hard for me to forget.

Read More Review of this Novel: Mad Bibliophile; Book Banter; Killin' Time Reading;

Rating: 4

5- Cherished Favorite	4 - Keep in My Library	3 - Good Read	2 - Meh	1 - Definitely Not For Me

Let the Right One In by John Ajvide Lindqvist

In a suburb of Stockholm, Sweden, 12-year-old Oskar is cruelly bullied by some of his schoolmates. Lacking the strength to stand up to his tormenters, he fantasizes about murdering them. He even compiles a scrapbook of news clippings about homicides. As he gleefully collects these gruesome snippets, he keeps this hobby a secret from his affectionate but somewhat fragile single mom.

Are you creeped out yet? Well, it gets better. Oskar meets Eli, a mysterious girl who lives with her "father" in a neighboring apartment. They form an intense bond of friendship and affection, and Eli inspires Oskar to build up his physical strength and face the bullies. Eventually, he learns that Eli is a vampire, crystallized in a child's body since medieval times. Her "father,"Hakan," is a pedophile with whom she cohabitates. They have an eerie symbiotic relationship. In return for her chaste companionship, which he hopes will develop into something else, Hakan becomes a murderer to help Eli procure human blood.

Oskar and Eli are surrounded by a wide array of supporting characters. These include a small gang of adolescents -- disconnected from their families and community -- who hang out at their apartment building and a loose-knit group of alcoholics who meet at a local bar. This novel is as much social commentary as it is paranormal horror. It gives readers a glimpse of the anomie in a suburban community and of the alienation many people feel, even when surrounded by neighbors and companions.

If you like vampires in their raw form, not morally correct ones who avoid devouring human blood and not vampires who shimmer in the sunlight -- and if you have a strong stomach for violence and disturbing sexual content -- this novel might be for you.

Despite my own squeamishness, I enjoyed this book. The author has a knack for creating intriguing, three-dimensional characters who, while they may seem wholly unlikeable at first, end up drawing you in and inspiring interest, sympathy, admiration, or at least pity. And while the raw brutality might make you cringe, or even turn your stomach, you can't look away. This author also knows how to build tension and suspense. In these respects, he reminds me of Stephen King at his best.

This writer also has a gift for sensory detail. I could feel the bitter Swedish winter and the crunch of snow under my feet, and I could see the imagery, which was sometimes bloody and brutal. I could also feel what it was like to gradually become a vampire.

So while I didn't fall in love with this book, it did hold my attention, and the characters, events, and imagery will probably stick with me for a while. I recommend this for horror lovers who want a slightly different twist on vampire folklore.

Rating: 4

5- Cherished Favorite	4 - Keep in My Library	3 - Good Read	2 - Meh	1 - Definitely Not For Me

Saint Iggy by K.L. Going

So I got kicked out of school today, which is not so great but also not entirely unexpected, and I went back to Public Housing where I live to tell my parents all about it but my mom went visiting someone or other and probably isn’t coming back and my dad is stoned off his ass on the couch like he always is, so somehow I’m not getting the vibe that he’d really, you know, care, so I think – here’s what I’m going to do: first I’ve got to make a plan. And this is part of the plan – making a plan – so really I’m doing good already.

If my dad were awake part of the plan would be telling him about the trouble at school so he would know it was not entirely my fault. This is how it happened:

Me: (coming in late to Spanish class because I followed a hot new girl)
Can I sit here?

Mrs. Brando: (confused) I think you have the wrong classroom.

Me: (correctly) No, I’m in this class.

Mrs. Brando: (really patronizing) Son, it is December and I have not seen you in this class even once before, so I don’t know what classroom you are looking for. Are you new here too?

Me: (being real patient) Nooo, I am in this class and if you’d just check your list from the beginning of the year you’d see that. (under my breath really freaking quietly) Bitch.

Mrs. Brando: (flipping out) Are you threatening me? Do you have a weapon? Are you on drugs? Someone get the principal. Call security. Help! Help! Help!

These opening lines immediately pulled me into the story, and they told me three things. One, this protagonist, like far too many children, is growing up without the protection of stable, caring parents. Second, we have an unreliable narrator. He reminds me of every troubled teen-aged counseling client I ever talked to who, according to his own account, was arrested or suspended from school with minimal provocation. Third, we have a main character who is edgy, funny and endearing.

Iggy Corso's meth-abusing mother has gone "visiting," and hasn't been seen in a month. His father is usually passed out drunk on the couch. So when Iggy goes home to the housing projects after being expelled from school, there is no adult to talk to except for Dad's vicious drug dealer.

Despite the environment he lives in, Iggy does not use alcohol and other drugs, but his path through life has been slippery. Born addicted to crack, he has attention and learning difficulties. He has been in and out of foster care, due to his parents' addiction. He has also failed several grades and has been in chronic trouble at school. Nevertheless, he is determined to turn his life around. He comes up with an agenda that includes:

1. Make a plan
2. get out of the Projects
3. do something with my life
4. change everyone's mind about me
5. get back into school

What will it take to change everyone's mind about him? What if he does something heroic?

With no place to go, he seeks out his only friend Montell, a law school dropout who's seeking spiritual enlightenment through illicit drugs. He looks to "Mo" for help and guidance. However he inadvertently leads him to the drug dealer who helped destroy his parents' and his lives. Then he finds himself in Montell's family home, with Mo's mother, a wealthy, kind-hearted lady who's hiding problems of her own.

There are many compelling moments in Iggy's journey, which takes him from the projects, through the streets of New York, into drug houses where he searches for his mom, in the heart of a wealthy neighborhood, into the apartment of a young immigrant mother, and inside a church. He is a memorable character, paradoxically limited in understanding and impulsive yet wise and compassionate.

This is the first book I have read by K.L. Going, and I will probably look for more books by this author. She did a convincing job of speaking in the voice of a teenage boy, and she has a good ear for dialogue. She wrote about grim reality, in a way that seemed mostly authentic, yet she also captured glimmers of transcendent spiritual moments, and she managed to seamlessly blend edgy humor, hope, and tragedy. I recommend this novel to mature teens and adults.


Rating: 3

5- Cherished Favorite	4 - Keep in My Library	3 - Good Read	2 - Meh	1 - Definitely Not For Me

The Butcher Boy by Patrick McCabe

Francie Brady, the young narrator of this dark Irish novel, opens the book by saying, "When I was a young lad twenty or thirty or forty years ago I lived in a small town where they were after me on account of what I done on Mrs. Nugent." It's safe to say the reader has fair warning that the book will not end well.

Set in Ireland in the early 1960's, this novel takes us into the home of the Bradys, a poor Catholic family. Francie's father is an alcoholic, and his mother is mentally ill -- my guess is that she has bipolar disorder. The reader lives in Francie's mind, carried along by a stream of consciousness that reminds me a bit of James Joyce's A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man. The flow of his thoughts and experiences is beautiful, brutal and often confusing.

As Francie's family unravels, he becomes increasingly obsessed with the Nugents, a relatively affluent Protestant family. Their cherished only son, Philip Nugent, is one of his classmates; he has an impressive comic book collection and takes piano lessons. When Francie enters Philip's room, it is like stepping into a different world. Mrs. Nugent looks down on the Bradys and calls Francie a "pig." This only stokes his obsession. And gradually, Mrs. Nugent becomes Francie's scapegoat for all the problems and tragedies in his life.

We follow Francie's descent into madness, which continues through the death of his parents, his taking work as the butcher's boy, the only job he's considered suitable for, and the loss of his best friend. It also continues through his stint at a Catholic home for troubled boys, where he yearns to get his "Francie Brady is Not a Bad Bastard Anymore Diploma," and his encounters with a pedophile priest.

Throughout all this, the narrative veers between the real and the surreal; realities and delusions mingle fluidly. As he plunges into sociopathy, Francie remains heart-breakingly human and funny. And while the story is often disorienting and bleak, at times it's incredibly beautiful.

While this novel was difficult to read, it is one that will stick with me for years to come.

You might also like this review at The Guardian.

Rating: 4

5- Cherished Favorite	4 - Keep in My Library	3 - Good Read	2 - Meh	1 - Definitely Not For Me

The Weight of Silence by Heather Gudenkauf

Seven-year-old Calli hasn't spoken since she was four years old, when a traumatic incident robbed her of her voice. She has been diagnosed with selective mutism. She communicates intuitively, without speech, with her best friend Petra, who often speaks for her. No one -- including her teachers, her devoted mom, Antonia, and Griffith, her angry alcoholic father, can entice her to speak. Only her beloved older brother, Ben, and a gifted school counselor seem to understand that her silence is not a choice, and that coaxing and bribery won't help. Fourteen-year-old Ben, who seems preternaturally mature and brave, protects his little sister -- hands down, he's my favorite character.

One morning, both Calli and Petra disappear. In alternating scenes, we watch Calli go through a grueling ordeal in the wide Iowa forest that has always been her refuge, as we watch the investigation unfold. Throughout the day, we also come to intimately know each of the characters. As the girls' parents struggle with their fear and guilt over their missing children, other memories unravel, some wonderful and some charged with regret and shame.

The Weight of Silence was a suspenseful story, full of complex characters. It moved fluidly among various points of view, adding richness and complexity without losing the silky flow of the story.
Folks, I couldn't put this one down. The suspense hooked me in, but what held me were characters I cared deeply about and themes that -- for me -- cut painfully close. It was a story about parental love, regrets in marriage and parenthood, and the agony of feeling we've failed those we love most. It was also about love, forgiveness and hope.

Another thing I enjoyed about the book was the carefully observed nature scenes. I could see, hear, and feel the life in the woods -- which seemed to have a faintly magical quality. The author illuminated those corners of childhood which include picnics in trees, marveling over a fawn wandering in the forest, and cicada shells preserved in treasure boxes.

My only quibble was that I was disappointed in the ending. The resolution seemed contrived and predictable to me. However, I recommend this book to fiction lovers, particularly those who, like me, are suckers for family dramas. I will warn you that a child is physically and sexually assaulted, though there is nothing explicit.

This novel has been on tour in the blog realm, so die-hard book blog readers have probably been seeing it pop up again and again. Here are some other reviews:

• Darlene's Review at Peeking Between the Pages
• Review at Book Line and Sinker
• Review at Virtual Wordsmith
• Review at Hey Lady! Watcha Readin'?
• Review at Bookstack

Also check out this interview with the author at Word Lily

Rating: 4

5- Cherished Favorite	4 - Keep in My Library	3 - Good Read	2 - Meh	1 - Definitely Not For Me

Guest House by Barbara K. Richardson

Melba is in her fifties, long divorced and estranged from her family of origin. Raised by a harsh, joyless father, she rejected her Mormon faith when she came of age and left home. She has enjoyed her hard-won independence for over thirty years, and has become a tremendously successful real estate agent. Her life changes when she witnesses a fatal accident. She gives up her career and stops driving, launching into a simpler life.

Then she takes in a boarder, gorgeous 28-year-old JoLee Garry, a manipulative, narcissistic woman who brings a string of unexpected guests in her wake. JoLee is a walking tangle of personality disorders. Caught between JoLee and her alcoholic husband, Gary, is their 11-year-old son Matt. He is an imaginative, introverted bookworm, teetering on the brink of disaster in the midst of his parents' drama. When he comes to Melba's house for Thanksgiving, both of their lives begin to change forever.

This story pulled me in, becoming more and more difficult to put down. The quirky, troubled cast of characters reminded me a bit of Larry McMurtry. The author exquisitely described their feelings and experiences, especially Melba's, and she looked at her characters with both unflinching honesty and compassion. I fell in love with Melba and Matt and hated to let them go at the end of the novel.
This book also touches on some interesting themes. It looks at a person trying to live in the world having as little negative impact as possible. It explores the complexities of family relationships. It also looks at what it means to live a life of independence. It allows Melba to avoid heartbreak and betrayal, and it frees her to create a life on her own terms, living where she chooses and making her own decisions about religion, career, and relationships without needing to consider how it affects others. However it also isolates her, squandering her tremendous capacity for love.

The only thing that disappointed me was the ending. There was a long, slow build-up to the climax of the story, then it ended abruptly, without time for a natural resolution. I wish there had been more time for closure with the characters in the story.

This novel is compelling, quirky, and often heart-wrenching, and I recommend it to fiction lovers. I look forward to reading more of Barbara Richardson's work.

Many thanks to marketing associate Anne Staszalek for offering a copy of this book for review.

Read More Reviews: Rantings of a Bookworm Couch Potato; Rundpinne; My Book Retreat; Confessions of a Bookaholic


Rating: 3.5

5- Cherished Favorite	4 - Keep in My Library	3 - Good Read	2 - Meh	1 - Definitely Not For Me

Dark Dude by Oscar Hijuelos

DARK DUDE n. 1. What a male of light skin is derisively called by persons of color (colloquial, Harlem 1965-1970). 2. A person considered suspect because of his light complexion, especially in criminal circumstances. 3. Someone who is not considered "streetwise." 4. A white person considered not to be "hip." Cf. "Straight." "Uncool." 5. An outsider, particularly in the context of ghetto society. -- THE HYPOTHETICAL DICTIONARY OF AMERICAN SLANG

Fifteen-year-old Rico is the son of Cuban born parents, but with his sandy-colored hair and light skin, he looks Caucasian. Growing up in Harlem in the late 1960s, in the midst of Latino and black neighborhoods, this brings him plenty of grief. It also contributes to his feeling estranged from his own family, especially since he barely speaks Spanish.

Even without these issues, his life would be far from easy. Rico suffered a serious illness when he was a small child, and his heartbroken, angry mother has never let him forget the misery that brought his family. His beloved father is an alcoholic. On top of that, his high school is an incubator for violence and drug abuse. For Rico, truancy is an act of self preservation, but it lands him in trouble, and he is faced with the threat of military school.

Rico has his love of books -- particularly Huckleberry Finn -- his gift for writing comics, and his best friends Gilberto and Jimmy. However, Jimmy's life is quickly dissolving in a world of crime and drug addiction. So Rico takes a chance on saving both of them. He convinces Jimmy to run away with him, and they head for the Midwest. They live on a farm with Gilberto, a Cubano who also grew up in Harlem, and a group of hippies. The life Rico has entered is difficult.

Well, even if they say life can be shitty, you really don't know the half of it until you've dug up an outhouse. This was the fourth time in twelve months that I'd gotten down into the nitty-gritty and goop of it -- and I'd had enough, for crying out loud.  But I was doing it for my old neighborhood bro Gilberto, not just 'cause he'd have smacked me in the head if I didn't, but as a thank-you-man for letting me stay on his farm for so long.

In the rural Midwest, Rico's Caucasian looks help him blend in, but he feels torn about turning away from his cultural heritage and struggles with guilt about having left his parents. As he, Jimmy, and Gilberto flounder toward carving out better lives for themselves, each must make his own decision about the home he left behind. And Rico grapples with loneliness, conflicted loyalties, and first love.

He also works toward coming to terms with racism. He's faced prejudice from Anglos due to his Cuban heritage and hostility from other Latinos because of his "white bread" appearance. He's also colliding with hatred between Latinos and blacks and his own deep distrust of African Americans. I was impressed with this multi-layered picture of bigotry and racial conflict. It offers a glimpse of the world of the late 1960s, in which changes were coming fast, conflicts were reaching the boiling point, and many groups were struggling to find their sense of identity.

I also agreed with Nymeth that the novel skillfully probed the question of whether Rico’s ambivalence toward his cultural identity stemmed from the bigotry around him or from his own racism. This is difficult to untangle. We often absorb prejudices that flow through our culture, but we also tend to project our own attitudes onto the world around us.

While pondering these themes, I also became absorbed in Rico's voice. He is a kid who is, in some ways, on the cusp of maturity. He often seems self-aware, but in other ways he is adrift in circumstances he doesn't understand and oblivious to his own emotions. For example, he seems disconnected from his feelings for his girlfriend, and he has a fuzzy perception of his own hopes, dreams, and accomplishments. At times, he's perceptive, honest, and hilariously funny. At other times he doesn't seem to understand what's happening in his life, especially in his own mind. Kind of like a real adolescent. :-)

I also admired the fact that while each character was striving for a sense of identity and a better life, there was no Road to Damascus moment. They continued to flounder, make mistakes, and find themselves in crazy situations right to the end. And there were no clear answers to the life-defining decisions they faced. This author had the courage to let things be confusing and messy, as they are in life.

I highly recommend this novel. It's likely to provoke discussion of serious subjects including drug abuse, alcoholism, crime, and violence. It also offers a route into conversations about personal and cultural identity and what happens when we try to make a clean break with our past and when we go back to collect the pieces of ourselves we left behind.

Read More Reviews: Things Mean a Lot; The Happy Nappy Bookseller; Y.A. New York


Rating: 4

5- Cherished Favorite	4 - Keep in My Library	3 - Good Read	2 - Meh	1 - Definitely Not For Me

A Home at the End of the World by Michael Cunningham

  

Jonathan and Bobby have been friends since seventh grade. Both were deeply marked, before they met, by losses and family pain. Their parents seem disconnected from their own lives. Bobby's father is an alcoholic. Jonathan's father lives in movies, spending virtually every waking hour in his failing movie theater, and his mother seems misplaced in her own skin. This sense of detachment is captured beautifully here, right after Jonathan's mother suffers a horrible loss:

I glanced at my mother. She was not crying. Her face was drained not only of color but of expression as well. She might have been a vacant body, waiting dumbfounded to be infused with a human soul. (p. 14)

Bobby and Jonathan come together, spending hours immersed in drugs and music. Their relationship is complicated -- are they like friends, brothers, or lovers? Later they come together as adults, sharing a life with Claire, a slightly older woman who dyes her hair vibrant orange and ekes out a living making jewelry from odd things, finding beauty in bits other people leave behind.

Claire and Jonathan fantasize about having a baby together, although Jonathan is gay. When Bobby comes into their lives, they all find themselves in love with each other, in an intense but messy, complicated way, and form an unconventional family. I started this book before I'd even left the library, and I was immediately pulled in by the author's gorgeous writing and keen eye for the telling minutiae of daily life. I was hooked from the first paragraph:

(narrated by Bobby) Once our father bought a convertible. Don’t ask me. I was five, He bought it and drove it home as casually as he’d bring a gallon of rocky road. Picture our mother’s surprise. She kept rubber bands on the doorknobs. She washed old plastic bags and hung them on the line to dry, a string of thrifty tame jellyfish floating in the sun. Imagine her scrubbing the cheese smell out of a plastic bag on its third or fourth go round when our father pulls up in a Chevy convertible, used but nevertheless—a moving metal landscape, chrome bumpers and what looks like acres of molded silver car-flesh. He saw it parked downtown with a For Sale sign and decided to be the kind of man who buys a car on a whim. We can see as he pulls up that the manic joy has started to fade for him. The car is already an embarrassment. He cruises into the driveway with a frozen smile that matches the Chevy’s grille. (p. 1)

As I got further into the book, I was a bit disappointed. The story is told by four different characters, but everyone's narrative sounds the same. The use of different points of view allowed us to hear the story from different perspectives, but it didn't establish each character as a unique person with his own way of thinking and speaking. And the slow, thoughtful, lyrical language, which I usually savored, sometimes gave me a sense of walking underwater; it felt slow and heavy. I started wishing the author had varied the style and pace a bit more.

Nevertheless, I couldn't help loving this book. Though I wished each person had a unique voice, I adored the writing and the characters were richly developed. They were deeply flawed, complicated, and so painfully real it was a bit unsettling. The author explored human relationships, and the myriad kinds of intimacy we seek, compassionately but with brutal honesty. We see all kinds of sexual relationships, both straight and gay, from a casual encounter in a bar to a lifelong marriage. They are not blissful or passionate nor are they meaningless. They are complicated -- full of mixed emotions. We see glimmers of real passion, mixed with awkwardness, detachment, dislike, and moments of deep tenderness. Various relationships, between spouses, lovers, friends, parents and children, are explored this way -- it seems incredibly real. For this alone, Michael Cunningham has won a permanent place in my heart. One of my favorite parts was about a character, who has been adrift most of her life, adapting to motherhood:

I never expected this, a love so ravenous it's barely personal. A love that displaces you, pushes you out of shape. I knew that if I was crossing the street with the baby and a car screamed around the corner, horn blaring, I'd shield her with my body. I'd do it automatically, the way you protect your head or heart by holding up your arms. You defend your vital parts with your tougher, more expendable ones. In that way, motherhood worked as promised. But I found that I loved her without a true sense of charity or goodwill. It was a howling, floodlit love; a frightening thing. (p. 274)

The three-way relationship between Jonathan, Bobby, and Claire, flawed as it was, intrigued me. Love definitely comes in unexpected forms. I saw an interview with Robin Wright, who played Claire in the movie adaptation. (Gotta love special features) She felt an important point, in Claire's relationship with these two men, was that no one person can be everything you need. Even as a person who's embraced lifelong monogamy, I agree with this. To expect a spouse or lover to fulfill all your needs is a recipe for failure. We glean different things we're seeking, often without consciously realizing it, from many people -- partners, friends, parents and children.

This novel delves into many other themes. One of the things that fascinated me most was how it explores death and the relationship between the living and the dead. One character mindfully absorbs a dead loved one into his own mind and personality, while another lays his late father to rest and tries to move on. It looks at the burgeoning AIDS academic in the 1980s and how it ravaged the gay community. This novel also explores coming of age, people's detachment from their own lives, and our yearning to find a lasting home and a sense of belonging.

This is a gorgeous, though flawed, novel about the complexity of human relationships. I am excited to have found a new-to-me author with a tremendous literary gift and sharp insight. I want to read more of his work. Next I'll try The Hours, but not until I've re-read Virginia Woolf's Mrs. Dalloway, because these seem like two books that should be paired. Then I'll finally watch the movie adaptation of The Hours.

Note: I saw the movie adaptation of A Home at the End of the World recently, and I expected to love it. Quirky characters and complicated relationships are an easy sell with me, not to mention all that 70s and 80s music. Though the story thoroughly held my interest and I really liked the acting, I was underwhelmed -- I'm not sure why. Maybe there's just so much under the surface of this story that's difficult to capture on screen, even in the hands of gifted actors?  

Read More Reviews: Kristina's Book Blog; Bibliolatry

Rating: 4.5

5- Cherished Favorite	4 - Keep in My Library	3 - Good Read	2 - Meh	1 - Definitely Not For Me

The God of Small Things by Arundhati Roy

Set in the state of Kerala, on the southern tip of India, The God of Small Things begins with 31-year-old Rahel's return to her childhood home in Ayemenem. She is here because her twin brother, Estha, has returned. They shared an uncannily intimate bond in early childhood. Rahel remembers waking up giggling over Estha's funny dream. But they were forcibly separated 23 years ago, and they haven't seen each other in years. Silenced by horrific childhood events, Estha rarely speaks.

Estha had always been a quiet child, so no one could pinpoint with any degree of accuracy exactly when (the year, if not the month or day) he had stopped talking. Stopped talking altogether, that is. The fact is that there wasn't an "exactly when." It had been a gradual winding down and closing shop. A barely noticeable quietening. As though he had simply run out of conversation and had nothing left to say. Yet Estha's silence was never awkward. Never intrusive. Never noisy. It wasn't an accusing, protesting silence as much as a sort of estivation, a dormancy, the psychological equivalent of what lungfish do to get themselves through the dry season, except that in Estha's case the dry season looked as though it would last forever. (p. 12)

Rahel is also deeply marked by the tragedies that fractured her family and, in many ways, shaped her society.The man to whom she was briefly married didn't understand her pervasive expression of "something between indifference and despair."

He didn't know that in some places, like the country that Rahel came from, various kinds of despair competed for primacy. And that personal despair could never be desperate enough. That something happened when personal turmoil dropped by the wayside shrine of the vast, violent, circling, driving, ridiculous, insane, unfeasible public turmoil of a nation. That Big God howled like a hot wind and demanded obeisance. The Small God (cozy and contained, private and limited) came away cauterized, laughing numbly at his own temerity ... Nothing much mattered ... It was never important enough. Because Worse Things had happened. In the country that she came from, poised forever between the terror of war and the horror of peace, Worse Things kept happening.

Rahel's childhood home is quiet now -- the only people left are Baby Kochamma, who is her great-aunt, and Kochu Maria, the vinegar-hearted midget cook. The novel shifts back and forth in time, stepping back to the summer of 1969 when tragic events, and the cruelty of certain family members, shattered their lives.

Much of the story is told in disconnected fragments, giving us a sense of things one can't bear to speak of. Some of these events are revealed early, and others are so heavily foreshadowed it is no surprise when they happen. This lends a heavy sense of foreboding and hopelessness to the story. In 1969, we meet the twins' divorced mother, Ammu; Baba, their alcoholic father, is in the background. Their grandmother, Mammachi, lived through a violent marriage and has a disturbingly intense attachment to her son Chacko. We meet Uncle Chacko, the "Man of the House," who is intellectually gifted but ineffectual in helping run Mammachi's business. Chacko is a scholarly Marxist who aggressively seeks the sexual favors of women who work for the family company; he apparently sees no contradiction between his "Marxist mind and his feudal libido."

We also meet Chacko's beloved former wife, Margaret, and his daughter, Sophie Mol. This novel spirals, moving back and forth in time, shifting among the perspectives of various characters, and taking us deeper and deeper into the story. This has a mesmerizing effect. The author also blends lush, lyrical writing with language and imagery that is deliberately crude, disturbing or disgusting. On one hand the language is generously poetic, and we see images of lush green landscapes. On the other hand, we're bombarded with odors and images of disintegration, filth and decay. This creates a vivid, disturbing world that draws readers in and immerses us in tragedy, injustice, and the deterioration of a family.  

The God of Small Things explores a tremendous number of issues, including the cruelty and injustice of the Indian caste system, poverty, repression of women, and the persistent effects of British colonial rule. The ubiquitous effects of colonialism are represented by a once grand, decaying house, across the river from Rahel's family home, which was once occupied by an Englishman who'd "gone native," speaking Malayalam and wearing mundus. Tellingly, he is compared to Kurtz in Heart of Darkness.

This novel also delves into various forms of communism, as well as the social injustices that nurture both Marxist philosophy and militant communism. It explores various social groups, including Paravans, Pelayas, and Pulayes (members of the untouchable caste) and Syrian Christians. And it looks at the complicated role of Christianity in India. The multiple layers of this novel go incredibly deep. Although I thought this book was well crafted, with beautiful language, and I found it compelling, I didn't love it as much as I expected to.

I had a sense that The God of Small Things is steeped in a many layers of Indian culture and folklore. There are many references to folktales with which I'm unfamiliar. For example, we hear about Karna the Warrior and Dushasana. These tales reflect many of the novel's themes, including revenge, grief, and rage. All of this was mingled with allusions to Western pop culture, like "Elvis the Pelvis." :-) I felt that if I'd understood the cultural context of the novel more fully, I would have loved it more.

Nevertheless it's a beautiful book, and at the heart, when you peel away all the layers, it's a love story, albeit a tragic one.

She kissed his closed eyes and stood up. Velutha with his back against the mangosteen tree watched her walk away. She had a dry rose in her hair. She turned to say it once again: "Naaley." Tomorrow.

Read More Reviews: Fyrefly's Book Blog; The Little Reader; Boston Bibliophile; Bending Bookshelf; Caribou's Mom; Things Mean a Lot; Reading Reflections; Tony's Reading List



Rating: 4

5- Cherished Favorite	4 - Keep in My Library	3 - Good Read	2 - Meh	1 - Definitely Not For Me

Between Mom and Jo by Julie Anne Peters

Nick is being raised by his biological mother, Erin, and her partner Jo. They brought him into the world through artificial insemination. Each of his mothers is loving, complicated and very flawed. And when they struggle with marital problems, Nick is caught in the middle, trying to understand the complex choreography of their relationship.

At first this seems to be an "issues" novel about the challenges of being reared in a nontraditional family and facing societal prejudice. This facet of Nick's life is certainly explored. A 3rd grade teacher refuses to display Nick's drawing of his family on Parent-Teacher night and doesn't acknowledge his moms' presence. Kids ridicule him and assume he's gay, because his parents are. A babysitter gawks at Nick's family like it's a freak show. But this novel is much more complex than that.

It's a story about a child facing the disintegration of his parents' marriage; it could be about any kind of family. Other issues, including parental alcoholism, school bullies, and loneliness are woven throughout the book, along with commitment, love, and the power of promises.

This story is driven by dialogue, and other moments of connection between people, as well as by Nick's internal struggles. And the character development is wonderful. Jo is my favorite character though, honestly, I wouldn't want to live with her. :-) She's colorful and funny, with well-honed toughness thinly disguising her deep vulnerability and loneliness. She's often impulsive, and she struggles with alcoholism. Erin has an intensely controlling side, which fits like a lock and key with her alcoholic partner's issues. Erin's need for control is sparked by Jo's unpredictability, which --in turn -- is exacerbated by Erin's need for control. They're locked in a destructive dance, balanced by moments of love, tenderness and fun. When the dance ends, things get even worse, and Nick suffers most of all.

This was such a sad, painful book to read. There's nothing harder than seeing a child suffer, feeling trapped. My jaw was clenched throughout the last third of the book because I was sad and angry. It was probably not the ideal book to read when I'm PMSing. :-)

I liked the fact that this novel wasn't about a perfect lesbian couple raising a child and facing difficulties because of their unconventional lifestyle. It explores how each individual's flaws and struggles contribute to the breakdown of a relationship. Though prejudice from family members and the community play a role in their difficulties, most of Erin's and Jo's problems are caused by themselves, their blind spots, and their mistakes. I suspect that's true of all of us, eh?

For this reason, I liked it better than Keeping You a Secret. The lesbian couple in that story showed few major faults; nearly all their challenges stemmed from homophobia. That's a story that needs to be told, but I found that aspect limiting. Between Mom and Jo is a story about love, commitment, resentment, divorce, and the cruelty people show those they love most. Homophobia is always present -- it doesn't just vanish. But it's only a part of the picture and not the most important part. This struck me as honest and real. I strongly believe we need more novels and films with GLBTQ characters which aren't about not being straight.

I recommend Between Mom and Jo to teens and adults who enjoy serious YA fiction and family dramas. It explores the themes of love, commitment, loss, resentment and forgiveness, and will offer a wealth of discussion opportunities for parents and teens. I have read plenty of YA novels, most of which I enjoyed then tossed aside, the characters quickly fading in my mind. But this is definitely a story I'll find it difficult to forget.

More Reviews: The Zen Leaf; Bookshelves of Doom; Bart's Bookshelf; Big A Little a


Rating: 4

5- Cherished Favorite	4 - Keep in My Library	3 - Good Read	2 - Meh	1 - Definitely Not For Me