Fantastic Finds

I came across a really interesting piece on the Tor blog today called "Is There a Right Age to Read a Book?" by Jo Walton. In it, Walton introduces thoughts from both sides of the argument. 

Claire, the blogger responsible for The Captive Reader, suggests that while we won't get everything out of a book read too young (i.e., we'll enjoy the characters and plot, but miss the deeper themes and allusions), it does us no harm as we can always go back and reread things later. However, she does emphasize just how much of an effect the age at which we read things can have. I love that she uses Jane Eyre as an example: 

"I read Jane Eyre, one of Kaye-Smith’s ‘approved’ books for youths, when I was fourteen in school and hated it. Was this the fault of a too early introduction? Or perhaps a too late one? Would I at twelve, when for one brief summer I understood... the allure of gothic novels, have been more receptive to the absurdities of the plot and the odiousness of Mr Rochester that irritated me so much a few years later?"

THIS. A pained 16 year old me was fond of exclaiming "I HATE Jane Eyre! 'Oh, Mr. Rochester!' 'Oh, Jane!'" in tones of despair, and claiming that it was all just "a Victorian episode of Passions." Would I have liked it more at a less tetchy and pseudo-jaded age? Very likely. In a similar vein, I read Wuthering Heights as a senior and while I loved the creepy dilapidated houses and windswept moors and bogs, I was frustrated at how cruel everyone was to each other, and worked at such cross-purposes- intentionally or otherwise. When a college professor announced that this would be our next book, I accidentally let out an audible groan. She asked why I didn't like the book and I admitted "well, I didn't like anyone in it..." and waited for a stern rebuke. She just smiled and said, "that's ok, you're not really supposed to!" In later classes, we spent a lot of time discussing the characters selfish motives and the spidery evilness that is Nellie Dean. It gave me  a whole new appreciation for the book (and my namesake). 

To use another personal example, I read the first part of Great Expectations in sixth or seventh grade- namely the parts where Pip is still a boy. How clearly can adult readers recognize the horrible panic and gnawing guilt of having done something wrong (stealing a file and food for the convict, who was terrifying in his own right), and remember the fear of getting caught? Sure, they can understand it on an intellectual level, but does it resonate as well? 

Walton does make a good point about the feasibility of this "read first, understand more later" idea: for some people, there will be no reread. Some people (including J.R.R. Tolkien) are self-professed one time only readers, who get as much as they're going to get the first time around. For them, Walton suggests, maybe it is best to wait. 

This brings up another interesting point. How can one know when to read something? If a kid is lucky, they grow up in a family of readers, and/or with the support of teachers and librarians. If not, well, there's a kind of serendipity that happens with books sometimes, and internet savy kids could always make use of things like Goodreads for book recommendations, as well as recommendations from friends and peers. 

Did you read any books too early/late? Are you a re-reader? What books did you read differently at different times in your life, and did you notice your perspective having changed? 

"I maintain that reading and rereading is kind of like listening to favorite music that you haven’t picked up in a while—you’ll find all sort of things that you never noticed, but more than anything, you’ll remember yourself when you first listened to it. It often works better than pure recollection, looking back on who you were the last time you read a certain book." -Emily Asher-Perrin, Tor.com

I found this quote while reading one of Tor's many series, Magic and Good Madness: A Neil Gaiman Reread, specifically the American Gods portion. I loved reading through staff writers Bridget McGovern and Asher-Perrin's thoughts on the book (one of my favorites), seeing what elements and references jumped out to them, learning more about dozens of deities, and getting glimpses into the story I never would have seen on my own. It made me want to reread this book in a more... not serious, but maybe more curious, focused way- like the reading done in the best literature classes. I might even be tempted to start taking notes in my copy of the book. (The horror, I know!! Don't worry, I'm pretty sure I've got a spare).

I really agree with the quote above. I think there is much to be gained from multiple readings, both in terms of gaining a deeper understanding of the work and in terms of reliving great reading experiences on a more personal level, like listening to a well-loved album. I'm pretty sure that I'll be rereading things like The Hobbit, Pride & Prejudice, Outlander and Stardust for the rest of my life.

On a weird other hand, there are some things I am reluctant to reread for various reasons. Reading the last two Sandman books (again, thanks a lot Gaiman) wrecked my emotional high-school self to an embarrassing and slightly scary degree. The next year I read 1984 and felt like I was along for the ride in a more real and terrifying way than ever before. I loved. it but I'm not in a hurry to relive the soul-numbing dread of that ending anytime soon.

Reading The Compleat Moonshadow by J.M. DeMatteis was another raw teenage read that really got to me in the best and most powerful ways. It follows pretty much the entire life of Moonshadow Birnbaum, "born to a Brooklyn hippie, raised in an intergalactic zoo, and ejected at age 14 into a harsh, uncaring cosmos, is collected in this mammoth volume. Accompanied only by a grouchy alien furball, Moonshadow must confront issues of love, death, sex, and war on an odyssey through distant world and spiritual spheres." Maybe because this was one of the first graphic novels I read, maybe because it was so, so honest and emotional, I genuinely felt like I was experiencing everything through Moonshadow's eyes. When he hurt, I hurt. When he stood in wonder at the beauty of the cosmos or wept at the unfairness of the universe, I did the same. (Actually, I think this kind of predicted my obsession love affair with Doctor Who... huh...) 

Despite being one of the most profound reading experiences of my life, it's one I'm leery of repeating. Part of my brain tries to tell me that I'm just worried I'll be let down the second time around, that it can't have been so great. The rest of me knows better. I knew when I was reading it that this would be a slightly different book depending on the age of the person reading it, that when I reread it, it wouldn't be quite the same book because I wouldn't be quite the same person. I'm not sure I'm quite ready for that.

What books do you consider to be old friends? Do you feel the need to re-read The Great Gatsby to see if your English teacher was onto something after all, or to get ready for the Baz Luhrman spectacular? Are there any books that you don't want to re-read? 

Warm Bodies by Isaac Marion

R is a young man with an existential crisis--he is a zombie. He shuffles through an America destroyed by war, social collapse, and the mindless hunger of his undead comrades, but he craves something more than blood and brains. He can speak just a few grunted syllables, but his inner life is deep, full of wonder and longing. He has no memories, no identity, and no pulse. Just dreams.

After experiencing a teenage boy's memories while consuming his brain, R makes an unexpected choice that begins a tense, awkward, and strangely sweet relationship with the victim's human girlfriend. Julie is a burst of vibrant color in the otherwise dreary and gray landscape that R lives in. His decision to protect her will transform not only R, but his fellow Dead, and perhaps their whole lifeless world.

Scary, funny, and surprisingly poignant, Warm Bodies is about being alive, being dead and the blurry line in between. -Plot summary borrowed from Goodreads


You know when you find a book at exactly the right time, and things just gel? I can't remember the last time I was so pulled into a book, not just for it's likable characters or snappy dialogue, but because I cared so deeply about what was happening in the world of the book, in our world, or when I felt like I completely agreed with and understood the author's point. I love how well Marion uses zombies as a metaphor without seeming pretentious or heavy-handed- partially that's because his zombies seem original while still being familiar and often terrifying. I loved the language in this book, too:
  
“I want to change my punctuation. I long for exclamation marks, but I'm drowning in ellipses.”  

“There is a chasm between me and the world outside of me. A gap so wide my feelings can't cross it. By the time my screams reach the other side, they have dwindled into groans.” 


“Of course, if I don't eat all of him, if I spare his brain, he'll rise up and follow me back to the airport, and that might make feel better. I'll introduce him to everyone, and maybe we'll stand around and groan for a while. It's hard to say what 'friends' are any more, but that might be close.” 

If you haven't already guessed, while there is plenty of humor, most of it is of the very dark variety. Don't be fooled though, this is no cynical snarkfest. There is genuine heart here, under the tasty brains that will make you relive that day you owned the discussion in English class because you "totally get what the author is saying, man."

Then again, I say all that but COMPLETELY missed the bones of a famous play that are shallowly buried here. (Hey guys, did you know The Lion King is "Hamlet"?!) I think I'm glad I did, actually, I loved it on its own and might have been distracted if I knew to look for more references.

I love R. I love Isaac Marion. I love that I get to use the phrase ZomRomCom again to describe the upcoming feature film adaptation. Who would have thought that phrase would be resurrected post-Shaun of the Dead? Speaking of the King of the Zombies, Simon Pegg contributed a blurb for this book which I think sums it up perfectly: “A mesmerizing evolution of a classic contemporary myth.”

Warm Bodies shuffles into theaters February 1st.

Monstrous Beauty by Elizabeth Fama

Fierce, seductive mermaid Syrenka falls in love with Ezra, a young naturalist. When she abandons her life underwater for a chance at happiness on land, she is unaware that this decision comes with horrific and deadly consequences.

Almost one hundred forty years later, seventeen-year-old Hester meets a mysterious stranger named Ezra and feels overwhelmingly, inexplicably drawn to him. For generations, love has resulted in death for the women in her family. Is it an undiagnosed genetic defect . . . or a curse? With Ezra’s help, Hester investigates her family’s strange, sad history. The answers she seeks are waiting in the graveyard, the crypt, and at the bottom of the ocean—but powerful forces will do anything to keep her from uncovering her connection to Syrenka and to the tragedy of so long ago. -Plot summary borrowed from Goodreads

I've been waiting for this one for months! I was so excited for another mermaid story, and a serious, dark, and historical one to boot. So was it worth the wait?

Yes. I loved the edgier take on mermaids that Fama presents here- no shell bikinis for Syrenka! Instead, a wickedly long tail, razor sharp fins, and creeptastic eyes. I loved the overlapping past and present narratives, and the moody Massachusetts setting. There were also plenty of details to geek out about- Hester works in a living history village and a few pages snarkily rebuking teens in Pilgrim-speak, for instance, and I would love to get my hand on a copy of Ezra's lovingly described natural history notebook. Add in an unorthodox Scottish priest and a Tall Dark and Handsome and you've got a book I'll happily devour.

One word of caution for supernatural fans- I'm not sure how much of this was due to Fama's use of foreshadowing and dramatic irony, and how much of it is because I am a rabid fan of all things occult, but I got bored of understanding things chapters and chapters before Hester did. Could she really not piece together the truth of what was happening? And once one thing was revealed, couldn't she put more pieces together herself? *sigh*

Still, most of this book was intriguing and a pleasure to read, and even the paranormal romance aspect was handled well. Four stars.