The Book Club Report, Part I

I have watched another book club die. We finally took this one off life support last month and it slipped away unnoticed. Surely someday we'll be part of a bigger book club again, but for now, my husband and I are in a book club of two. We are currently reading The Magus (which is AWESOME). I'm enjoying the new format, because we end up having tons of mini book-club-moments before we even finish the book.

Speaking of mini-book-club moments, while looking over my Must Blog list, I noticed that at least ten of those books were selections for the recently deceased book club. I'm not sure I could write an entire post on any of them, considering how long it's been since I read each one, so get ready for me to knock out a bunch of reviews at once.

I'll start with the most recent: The Cement Garden, by Ian McEwan. This was my second book by this author (see Atonement), unless I'm forgetting another, but it won't be my last; I find McEwan's writing pretty unimpeachable. (Maybe not as perfect as Kazuo Ishiguro's, but whose is?) This rounded out an unexpected trio of recently-read books set in England's heatwave of 1976 (see here and here), and it was easily the most controversial of the three: the story of four recently-orphaned siblings (without any of the romantic Victorian notions implied in that phrase) and their decisions and behaviors upon finding themselves suddenly autonomous before their concepts of morality were fully formed. It was unnerving how McEwan made me complicit in the siblings' conduct. Things that should have horrified me were made to seem reasonable through these children's eyes.

Under the Skin by Michel Faber. This story was interesting and unique (a female driver preys on male hitchhikers), although I think Faber revealed the mystery behind the main character's actions too soon. If just one line had been cut (the one about the chef), leaving the word "vodsel" enigmatic for a bit longer, I think it would have been a vast improvement. I couldn't really picture what Isserley looked like, either. Somehow her description didn't sound anything like Scarlett Johansson, but I'm still interested in seeing the movie anyway.

The Melting Season by Jami Attenberg, in which a not-so-bright Nebraska girl leaves her crumbling life behind her and makes a run for Las Vegas. I think I first heard of this book in one of those single-paragraph book reviews in a magazine . . . and I think that magazine was Glamour, if that tells you anything. I wish I could re-read that review now, so I could see what drew me to this book. I'm fairly certain it wasn't anything about penile enlargement surgery, anyway.

The Forgotten Garden by Kate Morton.  Unfortunately I found this one disappointing when compared to Morton's The House at Riverton. It's the story of a girl who was raised in Australia; on her twenty-first birthday she's told that she had an unremembered childhood in England. There were plenty of secrets and mysteries, but I think the book suffered from my excessively high expectations (the ones that had me thinking Kate Morton's books are great big thick bundles of awesomeness). That's not to say I didn't enjoy it--it was still pretty great--but I didn't love it the way I thought I would.

Gone Girl by Gillian Flynn. LOVED IT. It's the story of a cad whose wife disappears under suspicious circumstances, and it's really just a thriller without any especially literary characteristics (though I have no complaints about the writing), but it was full of twists and turns and suspense. I still remember with startling clarity the shock of the text message Nick receives four days after Amy vanishes. And there was just NO good place to stop reading this book. No doubt about it--this one reached critical mass, and early on. I've since read (and loved) Flynn's other two books, though this remains my favorite of the three. I'm looking forward to the movie adaptation out in September. Ben Affleck will make a perfect Nick Dunne, if I can get over the way he always seems to be spitting while he's talking.

Stay tuned for Part II of The Book Club Report . . .

"Amsterdam" by Ian McEwan

I was so excited to find this book at my local library, which in the past I have frequently found to be sadly lacking. This wasn't one of the Ian McEwan books I was looking for, but only because I didn't know about it.

I'm not sure why (maybe because the title of this book and the setting of the beginning of The Amnesiac are one and the same?) but for about the first half of this book my mind kept trying to tell me it was authored by Sam Taylor rather than McEwan. Or maybe it's because it is set in the present instead of the past. Or maybe because the length of this novel is more similar to The Amnesiac than Atonement. Anyway, once I was sufficiently sucked in by the story I gave up comparisions.

It bears noting that all major characters in this book are obscenely narcissistic and slightly insane. Brazen narcissism and slight insanity may be more common than I realize, but I think it was a little overdone in this novel. At least in real life people tend to hide these flaws better. But even though I found the novel somewhat unrealistic in this aspect, this was not a major failing when taking the entire novel into account. It was well written, and a very interesting glimpse into the psyches of a few privileged and elite Brits. Who knows, maybe among the Masters of the Universe such narcissistic insanity really is the norm.

I absolutely loved the way McEwan introduced the fact that Vernon Halliday was no longer the editor of The Judge. You read an account of the next staff meeting, not even really noticing that the editor isn't mentioned by name. It isn't until the very end of the passage, when you know the editor is speaking and you read "Frank said" rather than "Vernon said," that you realize what has happened. It's a sudden, eye-opening revelation. First you have to go back and re-read the passage in light of the new information. Then you realize that Frank's aspirations were higher than you were led to believe. It never really comes right out and says so, but I bet Frank is the one who leaked the incriminating photos to the Garmonys. Then you have to go back to the previous chapter and see that George Lane is the one who came up with the way for The Judge to lay all the blame on Halliday while itself emerging relatively unscathed. (Because maybe the first time you read that part you mistakenly assumed that Lane was speaking up in support of Halliday). Then you wonder if it's possible that this was all part of Lane's plan--that he had the foresight to not only assure Garmony's political demise, but that he could also take down Halliday on the way. No matter how premeditated the results were on Lane's part, it is clear that he was vastly underestimated when Vernon and Clive saw him as weak. Oh, the convoluted intrigue!

Though the idea of the "mutual homicide" at the end was somewhat maudlin, and I saw it coming from the moment Clive boarded the airplane with 10 grand in his carryon, it definitely added suspense and increased the tempo to, if not a frantic pace, then at least to an enjoyable level of tension. I almost expected George Lane to kill off his last remaining rival when they arrived in Amsterdam, but it's good that he didn't; that would have stretched my suspension of disbelief to its breaking point. It was hard enough to make the leap from Clive and Vernon both being hurt and desiring revenge to plotting each other's murder, though I managed it.

I don't understand the reference on the back cover saying this book is "a comic novel". Maybe I misunderstand the definition of that phrase, but to me, this means the novel is supposed to be amusing. I didn't notice any funny parts in this book--not even any parts where it appeared that the author attempted humor and failed--not even if I extend the definition to include comedy so dark that it's darker than an underground cavern when your flashlight batteries die. I do, however, agree with another part of the same sentence calling the novel "a sharp contemporary morality tale." It was very interesting to see each of several characters denouncing another for their lack of principles, thinking they themselves were taking the high moral ground, while completely failing to meet commonly accepted standards in another area of their life.

Good book. Glad I didn't buy it, but nice to know my local library has at least a few obscure and perhaps flawed but still brilliant gems.

"Atonement" by Ian McEwan

I chose this book to take on a trip with me, and I'm pretty sure I judged it by its cover in order to make my selection. I had never heard of the author, the book, or even the movie adaptation that was released in 2007.

It took me longer than usual to "get into" this book but by the time I'd read half of it I found it was a really good read. By the end I had great respect for this novel.

It was interesting the way I was allowed to see into the mind of a writer (mainly with the narrator, Briony, but also briefly with Robbie) as they attempted to figure out how to express emotion on paper.

I usually don't care for war movies or books but, although the second part of this book was set during World War II, it really did not delve into any battle scenes (though it did cover their aftermath) or war strategy, so the plot was able to maintain my interest.

Once I finished reading the book, I could not wait to see the movie. It is often that way when I know a book I've enjoyed is being transformed into a movie--I am eager to see what they've done with it, to see if they've envisioned it as I have. There are always some parts I look forward to seeing just because I can not imagine how they could possibly translate to screen; I guess most often I come to find that those parts have either been left out or have been altered beyond recognition, but I always tend to hope for the best.

The "Afterword" of this novel (set in 1999) was at first something between disappointing and heartwrenching, but even though it was somewhat of a shock--seeming to hit me in the pit of my stomach--it was, at the same time, so right; it's as if I knew that was the way it was, the way it had to be. It had an air of inevitability, of finality, and a ring of truth. You finally see that the novel itself is the "atonement" spoken of in the title, and that Briony has spent her entire life working towards it.

The end of my copy of this book gave perhaps a half-dozen brief introductions to some of McEwan's other works, and just about all of them sound very interesting to me. I'm keeping my fingers crossed that our local library will have at least some of them (though I'm not holding my breath).