Irrelevant Literary Musings

In which I prove that the only worthwhile short stories are badly written

Let me emphasize my aversion to short stories: There are three possible outcomes of reading a short story. If the story is good--if it uses narrative to convey feeling, story, and tension; manages to foreshadow impending doom with a single innocuous sentence; if it skips the climax and ends with a quiet dénouement or "concludes" directly after all the characters have suddenly dropped dead--you will not be able to rest. Your stomach will continue along the trajectory of the main character's path from cliff to rocky ocean, and the story's abrupt cease will only deepen the nausea felt as you wait for the character to black out just before impact. Even if the character has time to recover from the emotional simultaneous loss of their mother, sister, and husband before the story ends, you do not recover: For your character two years may have elapsed, but a single page is not enough time for a reader to grieve. 

If the story is mediocre, it will have a minimal impact on your life--you won't remember it well enough to be reminded of your main character even when you bake her favorite cookies. It will be as if the story never existed.

If the story is bad, however, you're left with a slight dissatisfied feeling in your stomach: no emotional damage will have been caused; you won't have inherited the main character's devastating (but ineptly written) fear of shoes; and moreover, you'll have the satisfaction of knowing you only wasted twenty minutes reading this flop of a story. This far outweighs any possible effect even the best short story could have--for no short stories end happily. Those are known as children's books. 

Thus ends my discourse on the evils of the "good" short story: Please await my review of How To Breathe Underwater, by Julie Orringer (a collection of her short stories) with bated breath.

Happy reading!

M. Gabrielle

Bel Canto

Friday Spines Book Review:

Bel Canto, by Ann Patchett

I was slightly apprehensive when my English teacher summarized this book ("It's about a South American hostage crisis") and wasn't reassured by her insistence that it wasn't heavy or political. After reading Bel Canto I can only say that it's about a South American hostage crisis and isn't dark or political at all.

The story opens with a birthday party for a Mr. Hosokawa--a wealthy Japanese businessman, visiting the country for a few days only. The poor government of the South American country, hoping for a factory deal to boost their tiny economy, lured him with the promise of Roxane Coss's voice. Through flashbacks, we see his obsession with the singer as it evolves from watching her opera performance as a child to listening to records of her singing for hours every night. He couldn't refuse the chance to hear her sing at an intimate dinner party, just for him. And then the lights go out, terrorist pour through the house via heating ducts, and all 200 people at the party are suddenly held hostage in the Vice President's impeccable house. 

It must be understood that there are two groups of terrorists: La Direccion Autentica, and La Familia de Martin Suarez. The first is notoriously cruel and brutal, well-organized and ruthless. And the the second, it becomes clear, is a group of shy teenagers with guns. Led by three older "generals", the footsoldiers have barely enough training to cover up their youthful habits and instincts; their guard is easily dropped, and they're more curious than hostile towards their new hostages. 

The government quickly surrounds the Vice President's property with bullhorns and police cars, constantly shouting out demands that barely permeate the thick fog both literally and figuratively enveloping the house. Garua, a thick fog that hangs in the air from April to November, kept the house isolated from the outside world. There's a messenger that comes regularly from the government, bringing boxes of food and supplies that the terrorists demand--demands met in return for the continued life of the important international officials they hold captive. As time goes by, they agree to release the women and the sick--200 hostages are simply too many for the band of 20 terrorists. They'd expected to storm the party, capture the president, collect their ransom and be done, but the president had wanted to watch his favorite soap opera, so instead they took the Vice President, the 50 hostages most valued by their countries, and Roxane--the soprano. 

Life for the remaining hostages settles into a surprisingly gentle routine: No meetings to attend, no jobs or wives and children to worry about, no responsibilities at all. They're not even afraid of the terrorists, no older than their own children, as the two groups fall into the easy rhythm of nothingness. Surprising new talents are unearthed, different interests explored, and many of the hostages form close friendships--and more--with both each other and their captors. 

There is, of course, an ending to both the story and the book: November passes and the fog lifts, and the hostages are slowly allowed outside. Some run laps around the house and some start work on the giant weeds choking the garden, but they have no thought of escape from this surprisingly beautiful, cloistered life. (Please, don't read the next part unless you've finished the book! Enjoy the foreshadowing and keep yourself in the dark.) One day during the hostage's outside time, the government agents that are still stationed around the house storm the walls and begin shooting. Lovers die in each other's embrace, close friends are once again forced apart into roles of terrorist and newly-freed hostage, and the close-knit life, filigreed with pure happiness, is ruined in a few minutes. (No more spoilers!)

The way the narration is woven with a fascination for Roxane, the opera singer, reminds me of Eva Ibbitson's YA writing style. (An excellent example is A Countess Below Stairs, which I just reviewed.) It's not that all the characters are hopelessly in love with her, although that's true in many cases, but they're all attracted to her and her voice on some level. It provides her character with an irritable luminosity that comes so naturally to the writing that it's hard to notice, as we're under her spell along with those around her.

I recommend this book for ages 16 and up. More advanced readers will have an easier time with both the subject material and the language/writing style, and it's definitely a book that you should  enjoy instead of forcing yourself though. There is violence (not at the places you would expect, but I won't give anything away), but it's not overwhelmingly descriptive. Several of the characters fall in love and sneak off to abandoned bedrooms for a few nights, but this isn't graphic or crude either--it fits with the sustained luminosity of the writing, the beauty of simple human lives that transcends even this environment and situation. 

Other interesting things about this book:

• The perspective is third-person omniscient, but it shifts to follow a small range of different characters. It's mostly told from the perspective of the captors, but occasionally we hear from one of the terrorists, or even someone outside the walls.
• The theme of music throughout the story made sense, but I'm not quite sure I liked it--as a classical pianist I understand the universality of the "language of music" and I loved how Roxane and her accompaniest could communicate without speaking the same language, but it felt too sporadic. Her singing would have monumental importance and be able to transform the whole mood of the characters and story, and then for the next part of the story would not be mentioned. I would have appreciated more consistency.
• The ending--it's terrible and beautiful, and while certainly not what the reader hopes for, is inevitable. While the epilogue wasn't completely necessary, it guides the ambiguity of the ending nicely, and leaves the reader with a little bit of peace.
• Throughout the book, the voice is fairly consistent, but the tone of the writing changes with the events of the story: Upset and rattled at the beginning, when the guests are first taken hostage, it fades to sleepily complacent and even content as the hostages themselves settle into their new lifestyle. 

Other books you might enjoy: The Secret Life of Bees, by Sue Monk Kidd; The Red Tent, by Anita Diamant; and A Countess Below Stairs, by Eva Ibbotson.

Don't forget to like Friday Spines on Facebook for more updates, book recommendations, and literary antidotes to the horrible spelling on the Internet!

Happy reading--

M. Gabrielle

The Last Time I Saw Paris

Friday Spines Book Review:

The Last Time I Saw Paris, by Lynn Sheene

Warning: This is not a romance novel! Nor is it a one-sided account of a woman turned traitor to her husband/lover/country, swept off her delicate, high-heeled ankles by a dark stranger and into the intelligence network of the rebels. 

Powerful New York socialite Claire Harris Stone must flee her glamorous life when a connection to her past (formerly Clara May Wagner, Claire raised herself and her siblings on an Oklahoma farm) threatens the new life she's built on lies. She travels to Paris to be with her lover, the artist Laurent, unaware that Nazi invasion has begun while she travels. After a quarrel with Laurent, she manages to find a job as a florist at a prestigious establishment. 

(I recommend you stop reading here, as the plot is wonderfully enthralling!) 

She is reluctantly involved in the French Resistance; bribed with false identity papers that she needs to remain in Paris, Claire finds herself further drawn in, but refuses to become sympathetic to the cause for its own sake. A friend of Laurent's, intriguing, infuriating Englishman Thomas Grey crosses paths with Claire a number of times in her work for the Resistance, and the two become tenuous friends, if intense acquaintances. 

The two are forced to flee the city when the security of the Resistance is compromised by an unknown spy; they take refuge in the countryside together, along with two young girls and a wounded pilot. The five wandering, transplanted people form a sort of a family; Grey and Claire fall in love (almost predictable, but the negative intensity of their relationship through the early part of the story make it a more thrilling romantic subplot), only to be torn apart when Grey must return the pilot to England. 

A few months later, Grey is believed dead; Claire is working for the safety of the two girls and her friends in the city. Using her looks and personality to gain information from the Nazis back in Paris, she continues to aid the Resistance for her friends' sake, but is eventually captured. Seconds before her execution, there's an organized revolt against the prison where she's being held, and she escapes with her life. Nearly six months pass before Grey appears back in the flower shop where Claire is once again working--he travelled miles from the forest where he was shot (but not killed), and there's a bittersweet happy ever after.

(It's safe--spoiler free from here down!)

The author seamlessly blends French, British and American English along with a subtly evocative narration style to envelope the reader in scenes of Paris and the French countryside. The dialogue is realistic and excellently portrays the characters without stating the obvious: It's clear that Madame Badeau, Claire's friend and mentor at the flower shop, is Parisian in the best way, yet we learn this through her words, the way she arranges flowers, how she treats Claire, rather than it being flatly laid out for us. Sheene's plot quietly brings us along with the different characters, touching on different points in Claire's life without being confusing. Her journey through the years in France is riveting, though not uncomfortably so. The reader may feel homesick for Paris after reading this book (see bottom of post).

I recommend this book for ages 15 and up (not YA fiction, but can be read by more mature young readers). While it's not irreverent writing, there are fairly graphic (although not over-the-top) scenes involving shooting, as well as drinking, and sexual favors and violence. Claire's first marriage (in New York) is abusive, with both her and her husband clearly only using the other for their personal gain. However, there's genuine and respectful love in many different kinds of relationships: her dear friend Madame Badeau at the flower shop is a strong and ethical character; Claire has recurring friends throughout the book that she relies on for kindnesses, and she tries her best to repay them; her relationship with Grey evolves to be passionate, kind, and loving--while he's not a Prince Charming, he's quite easy to fall in love with. 

Other things I liked about this book:

• The contrast of the settings (high society in New York, both the poorest and richest parts of occupied Paris, rural French countryside) are deftly portrayed with equal interest and attention to detail.
• The theme of the garden picture: Laurent is a photographer, and at the beginning of the story Claire falls in love with a photograph of Paris that leads her through the story.
• The characters are vivid and believable: Not all are one-sidedly good or bad, but the author doesn't allow each character to mature and develop excessively over the story.
• Excellent balance between dialogue and narration keeps the story readable but easy-to-follow.

More Paris:

• My Life in France, by Julia Child
• Revolution, by Jennifer Donnelly
• Les Miserables, by Victor Hugo
• The Red Necklace and The Silver Blade, by Sally Gardner
• The Piano Shop on the Left Bank, by Thad Carhart

(Am I missing your favorite book set in France? Leave a comment and let me know!)

Happy reading!

M. Gabrielle

Book Review: A Countess Below Stairs

Friday Spines Book Review:

A Countess Below Stairs, by Eva Ibbotson

This is one of my favorite of Eva Ibbotson's YA novels. Set just after the Russian Revolution, the novel opens as young Russian countess Anna Grazinsky flees to England. Separated her endearing younger brother and charming, handsome older brother, Anna acquires a housekeeping manual and goes to work as a maid in an English manor rather than depend on her old nursemaid's charity. What we, as readers, come to understand about Anna is that she's purely good, and has an effortless way of seeing good in everyone and everything else. She charms both the staff and residents of the Westerholme household, and puts everything to rights even as her manners--fresh from her outdated manual--leave them all in merriment and perplexity. 

Anna is hired to help prepare the house for the wedding of Rupert, the dashing Earl of Westerholme, and (of course) can't help but fall in love with him. He's attracted to her unsquashable beauty and elegance, but being a man of honor with no character flaws, keeps to himself and lets the wedding draw nearer. When his fiancée, a very rich woman named Muriel, moves in at the Westerholme estate, the contrast between the countess in disguise and the bride-to-be becomes even clearer. With the finances of his estate in shambles and his engagement unbreakable, Rupert is in understandable anguish over Anna.

(not very) SPOILER ALERT:

A last-minute plot between Rupert and Anna drives Muriel to leave the handsome Earl, just as Anna's fortune is restored along with her true identity, enabling the two meant-to-be-together main characters to marry. 

While the plot could be condemned as predictable (which it is) and overused (agreed), the author has a superb writing style that manages to be both light and suspenseful; her elegant ramblings in both the narration and the voices of her characters draw us into the story unconsciously. Her characters are vivid and fresh, the descriptions glittering, and the rotating third-person writing is flowery but completely understandable. 

This book is perfect for ages 10-13; although older audiences will fall in love with Anna alongside younger ones, they should expect a slightly fluffier experience. While the essence of the book isn't particularly feminist, Anna's power goes beyond cliche "spunk"--she's cast out of her homeland and sacrifices her comfort and safety not for her husband or lover, but the tattered remains of her family. No violence, alcohol, or other worries are included. The only disrespectful or mean characters see natural consequences, and everything "turns out right" in the end.

Other things I liked about this book:

• The recurring hilarity caused by Anna's servant manual is quite enjoyable, and not easily forgotten. 
• Even minor characters, the cook, Honorable Olive (daughter of a family friend, and would-be bridesmaid), and Mr. Proom (the butler) are portrayed incredibly vividly and memorably without overshadowing the main characters or plot.
• The lush cover (of my edition, pictured) draws readers in before they open the book, and captures the luminosity and brilliance of the story admirably. 
• The recurring theme of music--songs played in Anna's childhood, the beloved records of the Westerholme house, and the music played at dances--lends another beautiful dimension to the wonderful story. 

You might also like: A Company of Swans, and other books by Eva Ibbotson; The Luxe, by Anna Godbersen; and The Season, by Sarah Maclean.

Happy reading!

M. Gabrielle