The Children’s Book by A.S. Byatt is a huge, sprawling multi-family saga set in Britain at the end of the nineteenth century and into the early twentieth century. Olive Wellwood, a children’s author, lives with her husband Humphrey and their seven children (ages zero to 13 years) at Todefright – a huge mansion whose grounds edge the forest. Olive writes each child their own story – fairy tales which have no end.

They were like segmented worms, with hooks and eyes to fit onto the next moving and coiling section. Every closure of plot had to contain a new beginning. There were tributary plots, that joined the mainstream again, further on, further in. Olive plundered the children’s stories sometimes, for publishable situations, or people, or settings, but everyone understood that the magic persisted because it was hidden, because it was a shared secret. – from The Children’s Book, page 89 -

The stories Olive writes parallel reality. The secrets she alludes to also exist outside of the books, lurking in the dark corners of Todefright waiting to be discovered.

There are several other families which comprise Byatt’s ambitious novel. Benedict Fludd, a barely sane potter, hides his perverse fantasies about his two daughters, while Fludd’s wife escapes reality by sinking into a drug induced state of complacency. Humphrey’s brother Basil and German wife Katharina are raising the beautiful Griselda and rebel Charles (ages 11 and 14). Prosper Cain, a museum owner and widow, also has two children – the independent minded Julian (age 15) and conflicted Florence (age 12). Finally, there is Phillip who is found wandering in the basement of Cain’s museum and is taken in by Benedict Fludd when he realizes that Phillip is a budding artist (later, Phillip’s sister Elsie joins the cast).

Despite the sheer number of characters introduced, Byatt does an admirable job at developing them – giving them distinct personalities, strengths and weaknesses. I did stop reading early on in order to create a character chart, but found that by the time I got 100 pages into the novel, I no longer needed to refer to it. Later I found this terrific list of characters on Wikipedia.

Byatt uses the historical and political backdrop of the Women’s Suffrage movement in England, Socialism and the inside workings of the Fabian Society, and the build up to WWI to frame her novel which begins in 1895 and ends just after WWI in 1919. Byatt skillfully shows the transition from the Victorian Age to the Edwardian age.

It was a new time, not a young time. Skittishly, it cast off the moral anguish and human responsibility of the Victorian sages Lytton Strachey was preparing to mock. The rich acquired motor cars and telephones, chauffeurs and switchboard operators. The poor were a menacing phantom, to be helped charitably, or exterminated expeditiously. The sun shone, the summers broiled and were brilliant. The land, in places, was running with honey, cream, fruit fools, beer, champagne. – from The Children’s Book, page 431 -

During this time, the reader follows the lives of the children as they grow into young adults, make mistakes, search for their identities, go off to fight in the trenches, and begin their own families. Olive’s eldest children (Tom and Dorothy) take center stage as characters from the Wellwood family. Tom is Olive’s favorite child and is stuck in Olive’s fantastical world of boys without shadows and underground tunnels – he roves the woods and lives in a dreamworld. Dorothy wishes to be someone more than someone’s wife and sets her sights on becoming a doctor. One of my favorite Wellwood characters is Hedda, whose spunk and determination eventually leads her to becoming a Suffragette. The reader also comes to know Julian Cain well…a boy who early on recognizes he prefers the company of men to that of women and is not afraid to acknowledge his sexuality. I especially felt myself drawn to Imogen – the eldest Fludd daughter – who manages to escape her wretched father and make a life for herself.

At the turn of the century, the young were about to be adults, or some of them were, and the elders looked at the young, with their fresh skins and new graces and awkwardnesses with a mixture of tenderness, fear and desire. The young desired to be free of the adults, and at the same time were prepared to resent any hint that the adults might desire to be free of them. – from The Children’s Book, page 252 -

Interspersed throughout the novel are snatches of Olives stories which provide insight into the background of the characters…and the secrets. It seems every character has a secret: infidelity, sexual identity, incest, and political aspirations. As each secret is uncovered, another aspect of the characters is revealed – a bit like peeling off the layers of an onion.

In case you have not already figured it out, I loved this book. I loved its density. I loved the character development. I loved Byatt’s gorgeous use of language and the care she took in getting the historical details correct. I especially enjoyed the fairy tales and the theme of not growing up which weaves through the story (Byatt references Peter Pan in this novel and the idea of staying child-like forever is played out in the book). I found the historical background on the Women’s Suffrage movement in England to be fascinating…and yes, Byatt’s female characters are immersed in the drama and conflict of that time.

“It is a terrible thing to be a woman. You are told people like to look at you – as though you have a duty to be the object of … the object of … And then, afterwards, if you are rejected, if what you … thought you were worth …is after all not wanted … you are nothing.” – from The Children’s Book, page 357 -

They were troubled, as intelligent girls at the time were troubled, by the question of whether their need for knowledge and work in the world would in some sense denature them. Women worked, they knew, as milliners and typewriters, housekeepers and skivvies. They worked because they had no means, or were not pretty or rich enough to attract a man. - from The Children’s Book, page 358 -

This novel is so intricate and far-reaching, it is hard to do it justice in a review. This was my first experience with Byatt’s writing and it has made me eager to read more of her work. But, if you just read one novel this year, let it be The Children’s Book…a wholly satisfying and enjoyable read from start to finish.

Highly recommended.

Not only is The Arrival a moving expose of the immigrant experience, but it is a feast for the eyes. Shaun Tan’s art is detailed, magical and emotional. He captures the expressions and feelings of his characters with ease.

Because Tan never specifically identifies where the immigrant comes from and where he ends up, this story becomes one of the universal nature of what it means to arrive in a new country where language, culture, and geography are a puzzle to be figured out. Despite surreal architecture and environment, Tan creates a landscape that also feels historical.

I don’t read a lot of graphic novels, but it is books like this one which make me wonder why I don’t…although I would classify The Arrival as a cross between a child’s picture book and a graphic novel.

Shaun Tan was born in Australia and is the award winning illustrator of several children’s books.  The Arrival won the “Book of the Year” prize as part of the New South Wales Premier’s Literary Awards, and the Children’s Book Council of Australia “Picture Book of the Year” award in 2007. More about Tan can be found on Wikipedia or on the illustrator’s website.

I would eagerly read more books by Shaun Tan.

Highly recommended.

Years ago I read Pack of Two: The Intricate Bond Between People and Dogs by Caroline Knapp which is a memoir about Knapp’s recovery from alcoholism and the dog that helped her through it. I remember at the time being unable to put the book down for long. Knapp wrote with an honesty and insight that pulled me into her world…and her relationship with her dog Lucille resonated with me.

Gail Caldwell was Knapp’s best friend. They were drawn together through their mutual love of dogs (in Caldwell’s case a Samoyed named Clementine), their similar battle with alcohol and a need that neither one knew they had at the time…to find a friend who would balance their own strengths and weaknesses.

Finding Caroline was like placing a personal ad for an imaginary friend, then having her show up at your door funnier and better than you had conceived. Apart, we had each been frightened drunks and aspiring writers and dog lovers; together we became a small corporation. - from the ARC of Let’s Take the Long Way Home, page 13 -

When later Knapp was diagnosed and quickly succumbed to metastatic lung cancer, Caldwell was faced with what seemed the impossible – to go forward with her life without her best friend at her side. Caldwell’s memoir encapsulates the years of friendship she shared with Knapp – the long walks with their dogs, the hours of rowing on the Charles River in Boston, the late night phone calls – and the grief Caldwell waded through when Knapp died. But it is also a story about the importance of friendship in our lives, the depth of love we have for others (people and animals alike), and the risk of loss when we decide to love another.

Caldwell’s prose is wise and elegant. The passages she shares about her relationship with Clementine made me laugh and cry. When she wrote about bringing her puppy home for the first time, I felt my heart clench with memory of when I first brought Caribou into my life.

After the first sleep deprived  twenty-four hours of her invasion, I sat on the  back porch with her sprawled  asleep in my lap – she has white eyelashes! I thought – and tears started streaming down my face. I had had animals all my life, but never had my heart been seized with such unequivocal love. – from the ARC of Let’s Take the Long Way Home, page 37 -

I consumed this slim book in just over 24 hours, often with tears flooding my eyes. I could not seem to stop turning the pages even though dread sat on my shoulders. This was a tough book to read in many ways – sad and heartbreaking. But don’t let that stop you from reading it. It is also confirmation of the human spirit and our strength in the face of what feels like unbearable loss. We have all had loss in our lives – people who have been ripped from our lives before their time, spouses who have walked out on us, pets who have died – and it always feels insurmountable. Caldwell’s memoir is about surviving loss and moving forward; about embracing life; and about the special friendships that come into our lives when we least expect it but need them the most. This book is about taking risks of the heart and about discovering one’s inner strength.

Maybe this is the point: to embrace the core sadness of life without toppling headlong into it, or assuming it will define your days. The real trick is to let life, with all its ordinary missteps and regrets, be consistently more mysterious and alluring than its end. – from the ARC of Let’s Take the Long Way Home, page 180 -

Let’s Take the Long Way Home is a book which will stick with me. For those readers who are not afraid to open their hearts and immerse themselves in another person’s pain, but also their joy, this book is a must read.

Please note: Let’s Take the Long Way Home is due for release from Random House August 10, 2010 but can be pre-ordered now.

FTC Disclosure: I received this book as an Advance Readers Copy for review on my blog.

When Paula Butturini and John Tagliabue met as foreign correspondents in Rome, they had no idea what the future held for them. Four years later, married and living in Poland during a time in Eastern Europe when communist rule was falling and violence was erupting, their lives were suddenly changed. As Butturini writes: ‘A single bullet started it all.‘ Recovering from a near fatal beating in Czechoslvakia only days earlier, Butturini was stunned when she received a phone call on Christmas eve that John had been shot in Romania, an event which led to a life threatening infection, repeated surgeries and months of hospitalization…and served as the catalyst for a slide into a debilitating depression.

Keeping the Feast, Butturini’s memoir of the years following the shooting, is a stunning, beautifully written celebration of how our traditions surrounding food, and the memories and comforts those bring, can speak not only to our physical cravings, but to our souls as well.

Italy still celebrates one of the most primordial rituals of the human community, the daily sharing of food and fellowship around a family table; what better place to take ourselves to heal? – from Keeping the Feast, page 15 of the ARC -

Keeping the Feast is not just about the horror of John’s injury and his slide into deep depression…at its core, this book is about the impact of our food traditions on memory, healing, and finding quiet comfort. Butturini begins each chapter with a childhood memory around food. Her descriptions are mouth-watering, consoling, and beautifully wrought. Who among us has not turned to a favorite childhood meal to find peace in a time of crisis?

To eat a food reminiscent of some childhood treat, to eat a food that nudges strong childhood memories, is to return to the country, town, neighborhood, and family – the very dinner table where we first encountered the edible world. – from Keeping the Feast, page 165 of the ARC -

For Butturini and her husband, a return to their genetic roots in Italy, where they had met and fallen in love, was the key to rediscovering peace and recovery. The simple ritual of getting up and walking to the local market to buy fresh fruit, vegetables, bread and meat was the balm for Butturini’s psychic wounds. The act of making a healthy meal of pasta and sitting down daily to share three meals a day proved not only a calming activity for Butturini, but also just what John needed to find his way out of the dark recesses of his depression.

I found myself completely engrossed in Butturini’s story. I have long found solace in food and its preparation. The first thing I wanted to do for my sister when she was diagnosed with cancer was to make her comfort food that would heal her body and soul. Food represents so much more to us than simple nourishment – it represents our family traditions, our nationalities, and the joy of being with others around a table. Butturini’s wonderful prose captures the joy and healing food can bring to our lives.

Keeping the Feast is an honest, heartfelt exploration of one couple’s journey from depression to wholeness. Its stunning depictions of Italy (and Rome specifically) will satisfy the reader who enjoys travel writing. Butturini’s love of food and her mouth watering descriptions of it will delight those readers who consider themselves “foodies.” It is Butturini’s ability to unite all three of these subjects into a cohesive, compelling story that will have readers praising this book.

Highly Recommended.

Read a guest post by the author (with recipe!) on my TLC Book Tour of this book.

FTC Disclosure: This book was provide by the publisher for a TLC Book Tour.

I read some amazing books in 2009 – I tagged 22 books on Library Thing for “BEST of 2009.” But I have decided to whittle that list down to my top 10 for the year with one Notable Mention. Each book on this list garnered a five star rating. Publication dates are the dates for the edition I read. Here they are in ascending order with links to my reviews:

Notable Mention:

Fire in the Blood by Irene Nemirovsky (published 2008 Vintage International, ISBN#9780307388001) – read my review

I read this book right at the end of the year and it really touched me. Set in a small village in France, Nemirovsky’s novella tells a tale of family secrets and explores the contrast between youth and old age, and the dark side of the human spirit.

Many thanks to Jill who knew I would love it.

Number 10:

The Mechanics of Falling and Other Stories by Catherine Brady (published 2009 University of Nevada Press, ISBN#9780874177633) – read my review

Catherine Brady’s fabulous collection of eleven short stories explores how individuals deal with the unexpected events in their lives. Filled with complex and memorable characters, these simple stories are an intriguing look at the deep issues of infidelity, violence, medical decline, aging and single parenthood.

Many thanks to TLC Book Tours for giving me the opportunity to read and review this book – it was a delight to experience Brady’s wise and excellent prose.

Number 9:

Out Stealing Horses by Per Petterson (published 2008 Picador, Translated from the Norwegian by Anne Born, ISBN#9780312427085) – read my review

Originally published in Norway in 2003, Out Stealing Horses has won numerous literary awards including the Independent Foreign Fiction Prize, Norwegian Critics Prize for Literature, and International IMPAC Dublin Literary Prize. The book tells the story of the aging Trond Sander who is remembering his youth and his relationship with his father. What appears to be a simple tale at first, eventually reveals itself as a complex study of grief and loss. Beautiful descriptions of the Norwegian countryside make this book especially memorable.

Number 8

Love Medicine by Louise Erdrich (published 2005 Harper Perennial Modern Classics, ISBN#9780060786465) – read my review

Love Medicine has won a number of literary awards, including the American Book Award (1985), and the National Book Critics Circle Award for Fiction (1984). I found myself completely enthralled with Erdrich’s dreamlike and poetic prose in this beautifully wrought tale of a Native American family living on a North Dakota reservation. There are multiple characters in Love Medicine, and Erdrich alternates point of view and moves back and forth in time while exploring interconnectedness of family, personal despair and triumph, and the truths upon which our lives are built.

Number 7:

The Help by Kathryn Stockett (published 2009 Putnam Adult, ISBN#9780399155345) – read my review

Kathryn Stockett’s debut novel got five star reviews all over the blog-0-sphere this year, and for good reason. Told from the points of view of a white journalist and two black maids in 1962 Jackson, Mississippi, The Help tells a story about what it means to be human regardless of the color of one’s skin. Powerful and important, this novel swept me away and stayed with me long after I had turned the final page.

Many thanks to the publisher who sent me this Advance Readers Edition.

Number 6:

The Road Home by Rose Tremain (published 2008 Little, Brown and Company, ISBN#9780316002615) – read my review

Written with sensitivity and insight into the human condition, The Road Home snatched the coveted Orange Prize for Fiction in 2008. The protagonist, a young man named Lev, is forced to leave his home in Eastern Europe to seek work in London. What follows is a tale of loss and identity while Lev discovers that sometimes the past must be left behind in order to move forward.

Many thanks to Miriam at Little,  Brown and Company who sent me this book for review.

Number 5:

Sea of Poppies by Amitav Ghosh (published 2008 Farrar, Straus and Giroux, ISBN#9780374174224)  – read my review

Sea of Poppies is a sprawling saga set in India just prior to the Opium Wars in the mid-nineteenth century. Although filled with adventure and interesting plot twists, the novel is also about what makes us human in the face of crisis. Ghosh’s writing is richly textured and his  use of language in the novel is brilliant. This is the first book in a planned trilogy.

Number 4:

Unaccustomed Earth by Jhumpa Lahiri (published 2008 Knopf, ISBN#9780307265739)  – read my review

Jhumpa Lahiri’s beautifully rendered collection of short stories won the 2008  Frank O’Connor International Short Story Award. Lahiri is a gifted storyteller, one who writes effortlessly and ties together complex themes with ease. In Unaccustomed Earth, the stories share a common theme of growing and changing relationships over time and how these changed relationships accommodate, or not, the needs of the characters. Each story involves a Bengali family or individual who has immigrated to America.

Many thanks to both Terri and Laura – two amazing women who know exactly what I love to read.

Number 3:

Last Night in Twisted River by John Irving (published 2009 Random House, ISBN#9781400063840) – read my review

I was so thrilled when I saw Irving was set to publish another novel in 2009, and he did not disappoint me. Beginning in 1954 in New Hampshire, the novel spans more than fifty years (ending in 2005) and moves from Boston to Vermont to Iowa to Colorado and finally to Toronto. Last Night In Twisted River is full of  quirky and memorable characters. It is John Irving story telling at its best, and marked by Irving’s signature meandering style.  Big, lush and captivating … the novel is about life with all its ups and downs, unexpected events, and relationships which surprise us.

Many thanks to the publisher for sending me this Advance Readers Edition.

Number 2:

A Disobedient Girl by Ru Freeman (published 2009 Atria, ISBN#9781439101957) – read my review

Ru Freeman’s writing is stunning, beautifully crafted and powerful. I loved this novel set in Sri Lanka which tells the story of two women whose lives are interconnected in surprising ways. A Disobedient Girl examines the destructive power of secrets, betrayal, loss, domestic violence, and the power of love to overcome tragedy. Freeman transports the reader with her exquisite language and extraordinary characters. I will be watching for more novels by this talented author in the future.

Thank you to TLC Book Tours who offered me the opportunity to read and review this book  – it is a novel which I will not soon forget.

Number 1:

In Hovering Flight by Joyce Hinnefeld (published 2008 Unbridled Books, ISBN#9781932961584) – read my review

It was not a hard decision to choose as my number one book of the year Joyce Hinnefeld’s beautifully wrought and soothing story about what it means to love another, about the flaws in relationships and how they are sustained despite these flaws. I loved this book. I read it shortly after Caribou died, and for some reason it spoke to me and comforted me. Perhaps it was Hinnefeld’s sensitive and evocative prose. Or maybe it was simply its celebration of the human spirit in the face of failed dreams and the ability to heal after loss. In Hovering Flight is a book I still think about even though I read it nearly a year ago.

Many thanks to Caitlin at Unbridled Books who continues to send me wonderful books written by talented authors.

A small village in France is the setting of Irene Nemirovsky’s novella Fire in the Blood. Narrated in the cynical voice of an older man named Silvio, the story centers around Silvio’s cousins Helene and Francois Erard, their daughter Collette, and Helene’s half sister’s adopted daughter Brigette. From the first, the reader understands that Silvio knows more than he is revealing about the lives of his extended family. He has regrets despite his worldly travels.

I felt this all the more strongly after such a good meal and excellent wine, thinking back to the past the cruel enemy who made me run away from this place. I tried being a civil servant in the Congo, a merchant in Tahiti, a trapper in Canada. Nothing made me happy. I thought I was seeking my fortune; in reality I was being propelled forward by the fire in my young blood. But as these passions are now extinguished I no longer know who I am. I feel I’ve traveled a long, pointless road, simply to end up where I began. – from Fire in the Blood, page 18 -

Silvio has wasted his inheritance and now lives alone with only his dog and maid for company. He is a fine observer of life in the village and notices the secrets people seek to conceal. Gradually those secrets are revealed, uncovering  the smoldering embers of passion in those closest to him.

Nemirovsky is a brilliant writer, and in this slim book she demonstrates her skill at exposing the darkness of the human soul through careful and deliberate character development. Silvio is not completely likable, and yet he draws the reader to him slowly and relentlessly. Everyone, it seems, harbors a secret…and it is Silvio who holds the key.

At its heart, Fire in the Blood is about the contrast between youth and old age, connection with others vs. solitude, passion vs. complacency. Nemirovsky deftly explores the comfort of solitude and ordinary life, and contrasts that with the power and joy of unrestrained love and the passion of youth.

And how can I define the pleasure I find here? I enjoy simple things, things within reach: a nice meal, some good wine, the secret, bitter pleasure of writing in this notebook; but, most especially, this divine solitude. What else do I need? But when I was twenty, how I burned! How is this fire lit within us? It devours everything and then, in a few years, a few months, a few hours even, it burns itself out. – from Fire in the Blood, page 52 -

I thoroughly enjoyed the passages which described the French countryside, its food and traditions, and the rhythm of life in a small village. In 1937, Nemirovsky made a trip to a village in Burgundy called Issy-l’Eveque…it was this small town which became the setting for Fire in the Blood (and later for the second part – Dolce- of her last novel Suite Francaise)

We thresh the wheat around here. It’s the end of summer, time to do the last of the heavy farm work for this season. A day of labour and a day to celebrate. Enormous golden flan cases bake in the oven; since the beginning of the week the children have been shaking plums off the trees so they can decorate them with fruit. There are a huge number of plums this year. The small orchard behind my house is buzzing with bees; the grass is dotted with ripe fruit, the golden skin bursting with little drops of sugar. On threshing day every household takes pride in offering their workers and neighbours the best wine, the thickest cream in the region. To go with them: pies crammed full of cherries and smothered with butter; those small, dry goat cheeses our farmers love so much; bowls of lentils and potatoes; and finally coffee and brandy. – from Fire in the Blood, page 64 -

Fire in the Blood is a quick read at less than 130 pages – but it is rich with detail. In many ways, this novella reminded me of Edith Wharton’s Ethan Frome – another story which is propelled by the dark mysteries of its characters. It is likely that Fire in the Blood was a manuscript in process – an unfinished work – as Irene Nemirovsky’s voice was silenced in 1942 at the hands of the Nazis. Despite this, the book works on every level from plot to character development to setting. Fire in the Blood reminds us of  Nemirovsky’s acute understanding of the human heart and her ability to reveal that which resides deep inside all of us. She is a talented writer who brings to life a small French village and its people, surprising us with secrets hidden beneath a facade of innocence. Fire in the Blood is a satisfying read and one which I highly recommend.

Other book blogger reviews of this book:

Kiss a Cloud
The Magic Lasso
Days of Reading
Jew Wishes

Have you read and reviewed this book? Leave me a link to your review in the comments and I’ll add it here.

“Look at yourself now, Kristin,” said Fru Aashild, and Kristin bent over the basin. She saw her own face rise up, white, from the water; it came so close that she could see the golden crown above. So many light and dark shadows played all around her reflection – there was something she was just about to remember – and suddenly she felt as if she would faint away. - from Kristin Lavransdatter, page 275 -

Sigrid Undset’s huge novel Kristin Lavransdatter is separated into three separate “books.” The Wreath makes up the first “book” and opens with Kristin as a young child traveling with her father through the beautiful countryside of medieval Norway. Kristin dotes on her father – and he clearly has a special bond with his eldest daughter after losing three sons in infancy. Early on, Undset establishes a father-daughter relationship which is special and which sets the tone for what is to come.

The Wreath is a coming of age story which follows Kristin’s maturation from a child into a young woman in her late teens. Along the way, she must reconcile her ambivalence for a betrothal to a man she does not choose,  and deal with guilt and remorse around a love affair with a man her father cannot accept. Kristin’s infatuation with Erlend Nikulausson (a man nearly 15 years her senior who has had an extended affair with a married woman and been excommunicated from the Catholic Church) provides the drama and conflict in the book. Kristin is easily seduced by the handsome Erlend with dire consequences for her. As her close relationship with her father Lavrans begins to deteriorate, Kristin clings to the hope of happiness with Erlend despite her fears and doubts.

Sigrid Undset’s writing is fluid and beautifully reveals the wild countryside of Norway in the 14th century. The Wreath is filled with period detail of the food, dress, and architecture of this time in history. Romantic, dramatic and resonating with unexpected crises, The Wreath captivated me from the first page and drew me into Kristin’s life effortlessly.

In many ways, this first book in Undset’s novel is a study of women’s rights (or perhaps their lack of rights) in a culture which saw women as the possessions of first their fathers, and then their husbands. Kristin is faced with a decision to either abide by her father’s choice of husband or risk shaming him. Torn between her own desires and the moral laws set by her culture and religion, Kristin wrestles with guilt, shame and anger. Early in The Wreath Kristin is nearly raped along a deserted road, yet she is afraid to seek the help of her family for fear of being seen as a slut. Later, this episode leads to her spending a year in a convent until the rumors in her small town die down.

Many readers have commented on Undset’s tendency toward melodrama, but I found this a realistic look at what life must have been like for women during medieval times. Their lives were very much defined by the men whom they married, and lineage and wealth all played a part in who would become their spouses. The reliance on religion as a guideline for behavior, and the harsh punishment when women veered away from these moral laws, also regulated their everyday lives. The Wreath is full of romance, but also emphasizes the inherent dangers of romantic connections for women who dared to step outside the rigid structure which had been established for them. Although Kristin is not wholly likable by the end of The Wreath, I found myself feeling empathy for her.

I loved this first “book” of Kristin Lavransdatter and am eager to continue the saga in Part II: The Wife.

Highly recommended for those readers who enjoy historical fiction.

**I had originally intended to read along with other bloggers who are tackling this book together…that read-a-long is being hosted here and here… But I have dropped behind schedule a bit. I encourage you to visit Emily’s and Richard’s blog posts about The Wreath, and check out the links to other bloggers who are doing the formal read-a-long.

“Twelve deliveries since then, and ten thousand lei, and Easter is long past,” thinks Windisch. It’s a long time since he knocked on the window. He opens the gate. Windisch presses the sack to his stomach and puts it in the yard. Event when it’s not raining, Windisch puts the sack underneath the roof. - from The Passport, page 16 -

Windisch, the village miller, is living with his wife and daughter in a German town in Romania. It is after the war, and Ceausescu is dictator. People are leaving Romania to live in the West where there seems to be hope for a future. But first, they must obtain a passport. Windisch watches as his neighbors pack up and leave, and still he waits for his passport. Despite deliveries of flour and money to town officials, the passport is withheld from him. And then he learns that there is still one thing he can “sell” which will buy a passport – his daughter’s virginity.

The Passport is a dark, symbolic novella by 2009 Nobel Prize winner Herta Muller. Do not let its lean size fool you – it is neither an easy read, nor a quick one. Muller writes in what can only be called poetic prose. The novella is dense with symbolism. Stark and at times shocking, the language of the book is almost a puzzle to be teased out and contemplated.

To fully understand Muller’s work, the reader must have some background information about Romania under Ceausescu’s rule, and some understanding of the history of the region including that with Russia. The Communists seized power in Romania in 1947. Gradually Soviet forces were coaxed into retreating from Romania and by 1965, Ceausescu had become Secretary General of the Romanian Communist Party. At this time he declared Romania the Socialist Republic of Romania. Although initially Ceausescu had an open policy with Western Europe and the United States,  his rule became more erratic and characterized by a deterioration of the relationship with foreign leaders from 1979 to 1989 when he was finally overthrown by a military coupe and executed.

The Passport is a look at daily existence under the oppressive rule of Ceausescu. Muller’s short, stark sentences evoke a bleakness and hopelessness. She uses metaphor and surreal imagery to paint a picture of of a desperate people. Repeated images include the dark shape of an owl flying over the village, a harbinger of death. Playing on the superstition of the villagers, Muller tracks the owl’s progress through the night as he looks for a roof to light upon…the roof he picks will bring death to someone inside that home.

A bird is flying over the pond. Slow and straight as if drawn along a string. Close to the water. As if it were ground. Windisch follows it with his eyes. “Like a cat,” he says. “An owl,” says the night watchman. He puts his hand to his mouth. “The light at Widow Kroner’s has been burning for three nights.” Windisch pushes his bicycle. “She can’t die,” he says, “the owl hasn’t settled on any roof yet.” - from The Passport, page 11 -

Muller also includes references to the debasement of women who are used for sex or abused by men. Women are portrayed as deceitful, manipulative, and only useful for sex. One of the more moving chapters for me was Muller’s depiction of Windisch’s wife in a Russian prison where she was forced to prostitute herself to survive. Later this becomes even more meaningful when Windisch and his wife use their daughter to get a passport. People are dying every day in the Russian  prison, and Windisch’s wife (who spends five years there)  is determined not to be one of them. The winters are the hardest when the cold is unbearable and hunger pricks like a hedgehog in her belly.

On top of the mountains there was yet another mountain range of clouds and drifting snow. Frost burned on the truck. Not everyone got off at the mine. Every morning some men and women remained sitting on the benches. They sat with open eyes. They let everyone go past. They were frozen. They were sitting on the other side. – from The Passport, page 74 -

Another repeated theme is that of black vs. white – Muller paints a landscape of black images or starkly white images – there is no gray in this Romanian village. Things are simply black or white. In this village time clicks by slowly, things seem to stand still, and yet time is passing.

Every day when Windisch is jolted by the pot hole, he thinks, “The end is here.” Since Windisch made the decision to emigrate, he sees the end everywhere in the village. And time standing still for those who want to stay. – from The Passport, page 7 -

The Passport is not a light read – it is dark, haunting, and sad. It took me a while to get used to Muller’s language which seemed more suited for poetry than a novella…and yet by midway through the book I found myself strangely compelled to keep reading. Muller’s writing has a symmetry and a rhythm which suits the theme of her book – a story about the desperation of a people under a stifling  and cruel dictatorship.

I believe I missed a lot in this little book. I admit I had to look up the history of Romania. I also admit that I have always struggled to tease out the meaning in poems…and so I am sure there is much here I just did not get. This would be a fantastic book to read with a group and discuss. It is also a book which could stand a re-read. I struggled to rate The Passport – how could I assign a rating to a book which I felt I barely understood? And yet, ultimately I had to acknowledge that Muller is a brilliant writer who has written a book which is important. Although her style is not an easy style to understand, most readers who stick with the story will find The Passport a compelling read.

Highly recommended for readers who love literary fiction and books which challenge them intellectually.

Enzo is a dog – but he is not just any dog. Enzo is a philosopher and an observer of humans…he is a dog with the soul of a man. He lives with Denny Swift, a semi-professional race car driver, and Denny’s beautiful wife Eve and daughter Zoe. Enzo’s story begins at the end, and then rewinds to the beginning and works forward again. It is a simple story, really…the story of a family seen through the eyes of their dog; but Enzo’s insight into the human condition is what turns this simple story into something special. Like his owner Denny, Enzo loves car racing and he takes what he learns from the sport (through Denny) and uses it as a metaphor for living one’s life.

This is what Denny says. He says racing is doing. It is being a part of the moment, and being aware of nothing else but that moment. Reflection must come at a later time. - from The Art of Racing in the Rain, page 14 -

I must admit, I was very reluctant to read this book – not because I didn’t think it would be a great read (I heard Garth Stein speak last year at the San Jose Book Club Expo and immediately bought The Art of Racing in the Rain afterwards); but because I knew it would make me cry. And it did. Enzo is a wonderful character and his view of life, and ultimately of death, is tender and moving. Stein makes the reader embrace his characters. For me, it was easy to believe that a dog could think and feel as Enzo did…and so I internalized his story and it became real for me. Despite my tears, Enzo’s story is not all tragedy and sadness. There is joy, exhilaration and hope in the novel as well. There are many messages embedded in The Art of Racing in the Rain, but one of these seemed the most important: we are what we manifest.

Such a simple concept, yet so true: that which we manifest is before us; we are the creators of our own destiny. Be it through intention or ignorance, our successes and our failures have been brought on by none other than ourselves. - from The Art of Racing in the Rain, page 43 -

As Denny and his family face challenges and tragedy, this concept (‘that which we manifest is before us‘) becomes a recurrent theme. Another recurrent theme is facing our darkest fears in order to overcome them. For Enzo, it is a stuffed zebra who embodies evil intent…and now I know why Garth Stein inscribed my book: “For Wendy, Beware the zebra!”

There are many beautiful passages in Stein’s novel. His writing is graceful and insightful. Enzo’s ruminations on life, on what makes a good human, and the state of our souls upon death…are simple, tender and thoughtful.

Here’s why I will be a good person. Because I listen. I cannot speak, so I listen very well. I never interrupt, I never deflect the course of the conversation with a comment of my own. - from The Art of Racing in the Rain, page 101 -

We could learn a lot by listening to our dogs, perhaps.

The Art of Racing in the Rain is a beautiful novel on many levels. Readers who love animals will certainly be drawn to Enzo. This is a novel about family, love, loyalty and spirituality. It is about overcoming obstacles and moving forward through tragedy. But mostly it is about our connection to others – whether they be beast or human. Those readers who have recently lost a beloved pet will find this a tough read at times, but it is worth the journey.

Highly recommended.

Twelve year old Daniel lives with his father, Dominic Baciagalupo, in a logging camp along Twisted River in Coos County New Hampshire. Daniel’s father is the cook for the loggers and has been raising his son alone ever since the boy’s mother drowned in the cold, rushing waters of Twisted River. One fateful night, Daniel mistakes his father’s girlfriend Jane for a bear and accidentally kills her. Frightened that the town’s chief law enforcement officer (a drunk with a history of beating women) will not believe their story, Dominic and Daniel flee to Massachusetts and make their new lives in the heart of Boston’s North End. What follows is the story of not only Daniel and his father, but also the tale of Ketchum – a surly, big-hearted river driver with an independent streak who remains the duo’s friend for years.

Beginning in 1954 in New Hampshire, the novel spans more than fifty years (ending in 2005) and moves from Boston to Vermont to Iowa to Colorado and finally to Toronto. As with all Irving novels, the characters drive the narrative…and Last Night in Twisted River is full of memorable characters. My favorite is the gritty Ketchum whose libertarian politics and belief in street justice (not to mention his avoidance of technology except for his beloved fax machine) make him one of the more lovable and humorous characters of the sprawling novel.

Last Night in Twisted River is classic John Irving story telling at its best. Filled with quirky characters and marked by Irving’s signature meandering style, the novel is big, lush and captivating. I have long been a John Irving fan and so I know that when I open one of his novels I must give myself up to the story and simply go along for the ride. No one tells a story quite like Irving, and in Last Night In Twisted River the story is about life with all its ups and downs, unexpected events, and relationships which surprise us. Wound through the pages of this novel is the idea of fate, chance happenings, and the idea that we cannot always map out our lives.

We don’t always have a choice how we get to know one another. Sometimes, people fall into our lives cleanly – as if out of the sky, or as if there were a direct flight from Heaven to Earth  the same sudden way we lose people, who once seemed they would always be part of our lives. – from Last Night in Twisted River, page 550 -

Last Night in Twisted River is also about fathers and sons – a common theme in Irving novels – and how parental relationships shape who we become. Daniel becomes a famous author, and Irving has a little fun with his readers by inserting a bit of himself into the character (who has a tendency to overuse semi-colons in his writing).

All that was true the cook thought. Somehow what struck him about Daniel’s fiction was that it was both autobiographical and not autobiographical at the same time. - from Last Night in Twisted River, page 230 -

Readers who love Irving’s early work (The World According to Garp, A Prayer For Owen Meany, and Hotel New Hampshire), and who were swept away by his controversial novels (The Cider House Rules and A Widow For One Year) will not be disappointed in his latest novel. In Last Night in Twisted River, Irving has brought together all his powers as a storyteller. Despite its length (more than 500 pages), I wanted the book to go on and on. When I turned the final page, I was not ready to say good-bye to the characters I had grown to love. For readers waiting for Irving’s next great novel, the wait is over.

Highly recommended.