Books read so far this year - Part 2

[mllelaurel]

The Gift of Therapy, by Irvin D. Yalom, MD.
This book consists of short essays, advising beginning (and veteran) therapists on technique, approach, and other subjects in the field. Both Yalom's therapeutic style and writing voice feel warm, honest and engaging, meshing well with what I would ideally like to do as a therapist, myself. Moreover, the essays are short enough not to drain someone like me, who has trouble reading non-narrative nonfiction for a long period of time (the fact that he does utilize some narrative doesn't hurt, either.)

Catching Fire, by Suzanne Collins
The sequel to The Hunger Games, which I'd read and adored earlier this year. It did suffer from a bit of 'second book in a trilogy' syndrome. The ending, especially, felt a bit rushed and glossed over, since the author knew we'd be returning to the scene later. That said, there were still some really powerful moments. One, in particular, stuck with me, where another author might have been content to write an inspirational, uplifting crowd sequence, and Collins, instead, went there, following through with the consequences and throwing a much darker tone on the event. Well worth reading, and a case where saying 'not as good as the prequel' isn't saying much.

Fingersmith, by Sarah Waters
Ok, let's start with the good stuff. Waters' writing is fucking gorgeous. She's clearly done her research and then some, and evokes the Victorian era masterfully, warts and all. That said, I still had some problems with this book, which is why I took so long to finish it. First of all, for the longest time, she had me convinced that this would be one of those 'feminist' novels, where the men are all scum and the women are all victims. That sort of narrative only makes me want to bang my head against the wall. The addition of a sympathetic male character, albeit fairly late in the game, alleviated my concerns somewhat, but didn't lift them entirely. True, Waters' women are hardly saints (something I did appreciate,) but her men felt more irredeemable and less nuanced, for the most part.

Moreover, it felt like Waters was a little too in love with making her protagonists suffer, a phenomenon I like to refer to as 'trauma porn.' There were some segments that felt like they had no purpose other than to show suffering - the prolonged description of one character's stay at a mental asylum comes to mind. To show a little would evoke emotion as well as painting the setting. To show a lot just feels like a gratuitous form of voyeurism.

Moreover, while I still felt a certain warmth for the protagonists having achieved a happy ending, I thought that forgiveness came too easily, after all the shit they'd put each other through. More interpersonal struggle in the denouement would not have been amiss, but I suppose Waters thought the book was already long enough.

It's hard to say if I recommend this book. From a historical geek perspective, it's golden; from a narrative and character perspective: rather frustrating. You decide.

Comments

[heavenscalyx.livejournal.com]

I have to say that, for me, the lesbian couple in Fingersmith got the most hopeful ending of all three of her Victorian novels, and I definitely felt like there was a "okay, we're going to be happy right now, but there are definitely some issues we need to talk about, and we're good Victorians and don't really talk about these things, so we're going to have to work up to it, because, wow, our relationship is messed up."

I'm not sure Waters was as much in love with making her characters suffer as in love with her research. :) Sarah Monette in Melusine? loves making her characters suffer -- I never got that same feel, even with the asylum scenes, in Fingersmith.

I admit, my feel for the book may be diluted because I got it in audio media, and an excellent performance can often distract from problematics in the prose.

[mllelaurel.livejournal.com]

I was happy about the happy ending. I just wish the problems in the relationship were dealt with in the course of the story, rather than left for the nebulous future, particularly since, at least to me, they were at the center of the book's conflict.

And the *research* is good. The problem starts when the reader already has a good idea of what the setting/situation is like, and the suffering just keeps going.

I'm going to have to try Melusine, at some point, to see if it registers as 'going there' or melodrama. I've been somewhat interested in it, and reviews have been extremely divergent.

Good voice work definitely helps, especially cause I'm a sucker for a good voice in general. I also feel that time spent reading and problems noticed not only correlated but fed into each other. The more problems I noticed, the slower I was at finishing the book, and the slower I read, the more problems I noticed. A vicious cycle.

[heavenscalyx.livejournal.com]

She pulls the trick with the nebulous future at the end of Tipping the Velvet too, and, I suppose, Affinity. I think she's pretty invested in leaving loose ends for the reader's imagination -- she does it with The Night Watch as well, I realize. (Alas, I cannot read her latest book, The Little Stranger, because -- fortunately I was warned by akycha -- it hits one of my very bad triggery horror points that I do not tolerate well, the harming of an animal.)

Juanita McMahon is an excellent reader, with really distinct character voices, so the performance covers many flaws. :)

Melusine is a pretty entertaining read -- Monette clearly likes her characters, and she provides periodic breaks from the ongoing angst. I think that switching narrators is an excellent choice for this book -- it provides variance in the angst. :) I'm now reading The Virtu, and I have a hunch that once I'm finished, I'm going to have to take a light-and-fluffy break, possibly with some Pratchett or something, before continuing on to The Mirador.

But I may have to see about running a game in that world.

[mllelaurel.livejournal.com]

Hmm. I may want to avoid that one as well, in that case. It's funny. I can read about all kinds of horrible things happening to people, and I'll feel empathy at best, annoyance at worst. But when it's a cat or dog, I can't keep reading.

Note to self!

Breaks are good. It's a mood pacing thing. The other thing I watch for, in stories with an abundance of angst is how much the protagonist can/does rescue themselves. Nothing's worse than passivity in a protagonist. Yeah, it happens in real life, but it's annoying in fiction.

[heavenscalyx.livejournal.com]

It's funny. I can read about all kinds of horrible things happening to people, and I'll feel empathy at best, annoyance at worst. But when it's a cat or dog, I can't keep reading.

ExACTly. In my case, it haunts me to the point where I can have obsessively horrible thoughts about the incident for YEARS after reading it. I always bristled a little at the fact that my mother kept me home the day the class saw "Old Yeller" in school in... 3rd grade? ... but I'm really very grateful to her now.

[mllelaurel.livejournal.com]

Ow. Yeah, I still haven't seen that movie and don't plan to. Reading Where the Red Fern Grows in eighth grade was plenty bad enough.

[heavenscalyx.livejournal.com]

Oh, god, and The Red Pony. Augh.