Caged bibliomania

While enjoying an afternoon at the Newberry bookfair, Kath reminded me that I should be discussing more books on my blog. 

It makes sense not only because I love to talk about the books I read, but also because I have read so many lately.

Here are some quick thoughts on some of my latest:

Jong's Fear of Flying: This is what I am currently reading. When I started, I thought to myself...hmmm...is Jong a quasi pornographic Lessing? Her verbiage is at times biting and at others mesmerizing. Towards the end, though, I began to feel desensitized to her blatant words. I am annoyed with the main character because in the name of art and feminism she is throwing away a life that may have been perfectly fine. A life that she chose. She seems somewhat like a self-sabotager. And while I might sympathize, I don't appreciate it in a character. I still have a little bit left, so it might turn around. Oh, and there is a lot of talk about psychoanalysis. 

Meyer's The Host: You know Meyer. She is supposed to be the new J. K. Rowling. Only she writes about vampires. This is her first novel for adults. I like to think of this book as 600 pages of chick lit with a science fiction twist. It is a perfect summer read. I finished it in 3 days. I cared about the characters and willed them to find a solution for their problems. If I wanted to get all technical I could say it is an allegory of the inner-struggle we all face between animalistic behavior and a higher ideal, but really? It was a simple page turner.

Weisberger's Chasing Harry Winston: Here is the second novel from the woman behind The Devil Wears Prada. I enjoyed that it followed three different friends with three different man issues. Obviously, at times it is unrealistic. In real life your crazy rich friend doesn't loan you her apartment - rent free - because she feels like following her writing career which has just materialized. Regardless, it was sugary sweet and satisfying. 

So, that's lately, but what is coming up? Just how many used books did I purchase today? This many:

Kathleen Tessaro - Elegance

Anna Quindlen - Blessings

Anna Quindlen - One True Thing

Edith Wharton - The Age of Innocence

Robert Hicks - The Widow of the South

Anne Tyler - The Clock Winder

Anne Tyler - Back When We Were Grownups

Carol Shields - Unless

Annie Proulx - The Shipping News

Erica Kennedy - Bling

"We don't see things as they are, we see them as we are."

Anais Nin

Bronte Bronte Bronte

This morning I finished "The Tenant of Wildfell Hall" by Anne Bronte. 

Full disclosure, I love "Wuthering Heights" (Emily Bronte) and hate "Jane Eyre" (Charlotte Bronte). Unfortunately, Anne is more like Charlotte than Emily.

Why, oh why must love be so messed up? I understand requited love. I understand embittered love. I don't, however, understand ridiculous love. 

The main characters make poor choices in first love. One incredibly so. If I am to believe that the heroine of the story is to be trusted as wise and virtuous, then why would she marry a manipulative philanderer? Why would I want to read page after page of a husband degrading his wife and then questioning her fidelity and love and then laughing at her goodness and then teaching their son profanity and then flouncing off to London for months of carousing only to return for more manipulations and disrespect?

Annoying.

Finally, the heroine runs away with her son to live as a widow in a country community. She falls in love with the male main character and what does he do? Attacks her brother because he is in a jealous rage. Even after his misconduct came to his attention, he continues to be jealous and question the heroine's love...but then neglects to write her for over a year.

I call shenanigans on the entire book. One might say, but Claire you like Austen, doesn't she write about the craziness of love? Yes, but Austen creates characters you can actually care about. 

If I am going to have a mostly tragic tale, hand me "Wuthering Heights". At least then the love would feel real.

"Words, with him, are so much cheaper than deeds."

Anne Bronte