I took my time with *Let the Great World Spin*. On purpose. I stretched it out as long as I (reasonably) could because it was so gorgeous. IS so gorgeous. I want to tell you not to be put off by the plot description – a man walking on a hire wire between the world trade centres – and rather to take the leap (ha!) and fall (ha!) into this gem of a story. The writing is without question some of the best I’ve read. Sentences, whole paragraphs that leap of the page as expressions of beauty that left me awed and unable to keep reading. I took mine time because the gorgeousness was too much to keep going without a break. And if that’s not something like a strong endorsement, I don’t know what is: read it, okay?
Tag Archives: gem
Let the Great World Spin: Beautiful
Filed under Erin's Favourite Books, Fiction, National Book Award, Prize Winner
The Sisters Brothers: Against my (terrible) instincts
I heard Patrick de Witt read from *The Sisters Brothers* in Hamilton last year, and the book excerpt – and the reading – was brilliant. The novel won the Governor General’s Award and the Writers Trust. It was shortlisted for the Giller and the Booker. N. told me to read it, so did J. and I. (in short all my most trusted recommenders). Yet it took being stranded in the airport with nothing to read – a battery dead on an ereader at the end of a vacation is a sure testament to the staying power of print – before I finally sat down (trapped on a plane) to read it.
Why my resistance? When the book is SO FUCKING GOOD?
I don’t know. I blame my disinterest in cowboys (even though I loved True Grit, The Englishman’s Boy and Lightening) (I think this means I’m not *actually* disinterested in cowboys so much as I *think* I should be disinterested in cowboys). I blame the title for making me think it was going to be about some boring sister and her brothers (sigh). Maybe I blame my own stand-off-ish-ness to historical fiction post-dissertation? Yeah, maybe that (in fact I think this is the secret of the life post thesis – or maybe not secret, but I’d never heard it talked about – and that is that when you finish four years of thinking about a particular genre almost exclusively, by the end of those four years you want absolutely nothing to do with that genre Ever Again even if it also happens to be your *favourite* genre. What a bind).
So anyway. I was wrong to wait this long. I should have read this the day it came out because (let me say it again) it is so. good. It’s dark, and funny, and features incredibly well developed characters, it asks questions about morality, will and choice, duty and what it means to be a gentle, man. It is really very, very good.
So yeah, sorry to N. and J. and I. I should have listened to you. My favourite part? Calling N. to tell him to go out and get the book Right Away and having him sigh and remind me that he recommended it to me months ago (he’s so good to put up with me).
The Secret History: Whiz, Bang!
I’m behind on my blogging by TWO books! Sincerest apologies to those of you waiting with bated breath to find out what I read on the great family cottage vacation 2012. And the scoop? I made my way first through Donna Tartt’s *The Secret History* which I finished now TWO weeks ago (and so my review will necessarily miss some of its usual punch as I find myself fiddling about in my defective memory…).
The story opens its first scene with the murder of Bunny. And then back tracks in time to invite the reader to follow along in discovering how six young people could murder a friend. The plot proper begins with our first person protagonist arriving at his liberal arts college and finding himself – nearly by accident – enrolled in a highly selective Greek program: he will be taught all of his classes by one professor and in a class with only six other students. The plot builds slowly – the book comes in at just over 500 pages – with the layering of character motivations, complex relationship and the kinds of influences they are suspect to (the usual sorts of influences that 20 somethings should worry about – alcohol, procrastination, sleep deprivation, sexual desire – but also the more pernicious influences of their narcissistic professor, their callously indifferent classmate (psychotic?) and the danger of rationalism taken to its extreme).
For our protagonist events and decisions seem to happen *to* him, as if by accident or change, evoking questions of free will, determinism and ethical behaviour. Indeed, that the students are all intensively studying Ancient Greek nicely aligns with the thematic concerns with the extent of individual will, the hazards of an overly rational mind, the limits of community and the perils of group persuasion.
The novel doesn’t spend all its time in these heady philosophical questions; rather, the richly layered and complex plot pulls these questions to the fore without explicitly evoking them in a marvellous demonstration of the literary possibilities of a well crafted mystery-thriller.
I’d strongly recommend this one to anyone interested in such a literary thriller. It comes with full character development, unpredictable – even as it is self-reflective – decision making by such characters, and an entirely suspenseful plot. Well done.
Filed under Fiction, Mystery, Prize Winner
The Darren Effect – Really great
What an unexpected pleasure in finding Libby Creelman’s -The Darren Effect. My brother, I., got it for me for Christmas in a stack of other books – 20 odd or so (I think I may have blogged about the stack already as I’ve slowly been making my way through his selections). In any event, the whole stack has its own shelf and so this time, without reading the back or deliberating on a title, I randomly stuck out my arm and picked a book. And boy was my intuitive snatch rewarded. -The Darren Effect- is smart, funny, challenging, engaging and altogether too unknown for this reader to be satisfied.
The book is set in Newfoundland, follows a small network of people as they navigate falling in love, falling into depression, dying, forgiveness and regret. The shifting third person limited narrators – but usually Heather – are open, honest and uncomfortably familiar. A small town heartbreak, a family drama, but without the kinds of cliches you’d expect and without the saccharine writing you’d find annoying. Just simple, sweet, beautiful and totally engulfing. I read the whole thing on the flight from Vancouver to Montreal and am feeling the delicious hangover of a well-spent read.
Recommend! And recommend it to someone you know. I’m a little embarassed that this hasn’t been on my Can Lit radar, but then maybe I’m also just glad to have been so pleasantly surprised. (Thanks, I.)
Filed under Erin's Favourite Books, Fiction
Literary Vice 