So I decided on the other foolproof method for dealing with moodiness: snacking my way out of it.

Brown Rice Tea -- not actually poured at a 90-degree angle.

Goat Cheese, Borage Honey and Walnut Tartine on homemade rosemary bread

That done, I sat down and decided to blog about the Thomas Hardy literary adaptations I’d seen recently. One on a book I’d read, and one I hadn’t. Hardy’s novels are notable for the amount of drama and conflict they manage to squeeze into one book. Just when you think there couldn’t possibly be another twist on the road to the ending…there it comes.

First was Tess of the D’Urbervilles. I saw the most recent BBC adaptation of this in early January (clip here) and was transfixed. I had forgotten how Hardy does melodrama right, and the adaptation was wonderful — and it turns out, pretty faithful to the book. As I said to a friend shortly after watching it, I was expecting the typical Victorian meek and virtuous death from consumption, but that wasn’t what happened at all. Tess is not passive; she struggles against the bad lot fate has cast her, and though the ending isn’t exactly happy, she still controls it. Hardy does not portray society’s poor treatment of her as right, or as something that’s justified because she behaved in a not-quite proper manner. (part two clip here)

The cast is truly wonderful. Tess, played by Gemma Atherton, was beautiful. I thought I hadn’t seen her before but she was in the last Bond film (looked completely different in it). Angel is adorable in a geeky way. And I was happy to see Jodie Whitaker from Venus as Izzy; I was impressed by her performance in that movie and she was good here, too. She also reminds me a lot of Julie Christie.

Love how this film was marketed like a bodice-ripper...which it kind of is.

Then last Friday I watched a film adaptation of a Hardy novel I’d actually read, Far From the Madding Crowd. Another excellent melodrama, with a strong, intelligent but imperfect (vain, headstrong) female heroine, the beautiful Bathsheba Everdene. Took me a minute to get over the fact that they’d cast ashy blond Julie Christie as the black-haired Bathsheba, but Christie grew on me quickly. And the movie, though almost 3 hours long, was compelling, with a beautiful score. The famous swordplay scene must have been directed by my college professor because Hardy’s text is interpreted exactly the way she read it to the class. (“If you’re afraid, I can’t perform.” Woo hoo!) Doubtless Hardy’s intention — can you really read it any other way?

Interspersed with all the melodrama (missing, possibly dead husbands! Obsessed suitors! Fallen women! Carousing! Barn dances!) were some trademark Hardy scenes evoking the very real difficulties of rural farm life in those days. Gabriel, Bathsheba’s most loyal suitor, loses his entire flock after a rogue border collie drives them off a cliff (crazy awesome scene). Afterwards, he goes to town to seek work on the market day, and is coldly assessed by the local gentry along with the other men in the working class. It’s especially heartbreaking when two wealthy men talk about an old man like he’s not even there, and then dismiss the idea of hiring him.

My only disappointment with this film was that it focused on the love pentagon (oh yes, there is a fifth person/second woman involved) so much that you never really saw Bathsheba’s attitude toward Gabriel changing, and the end seems quite sudden. But it was a bit like that in the novel, too.

Two of Bathsheba's three suitors. Any guesses who she picks? And did 1880s military men really wear superhero costumes?

Both of these adaptations are faithful to the novels that inspired them, and both make Hardy seem so relevant to today. Maybe that’s the true mark of a classic…it never becomes outdated (the same cannot be said for the costumes in Crowd — how can it be that historically accurate costuming seems so 60s? This is a problem with many of the older period dramas I see. Maybe it’s the hairstyles? Will Tess look as dated 40 years from now?). Anyone seen these adaptations or read the books?

But that was the end of my list. Technically, post-apocalypictic fiction takes place after a world-changing event, like an environmental catastrophe, a major war, or an epidemic. The others I’d been thinking about are more accurately categorized as dystopian novels, set in a world that’s radically changed and is probably in decline, but for other reasons. Most of the ones I’ve read seem to fall into two categories: one, where the main character tries to break out of the role they’re forced into by society, with a thriller-like plot, and the other, where the character’s complete acceptance of their place in a world gone mad is pretty much just chilling and depressing.

• Daughters of the North by Sarah Hall. In a world ravaged by environmental issues (as in The Road, exactly what has happened is left unspecified), a young woman sets out to find a group of rebel women who live in the wilds of the north (of England). It’s kind of a hybrid of the two, since the woman narrator is describing thrilling events that happened in the past in a detached manner as a military debriefing.
• The Handmaid’s Tale by Margaret Atwood. I know, everyone reads this — but there’s a reason for that.
• Divided Kingdom by Rupert Thomson. England has been divided up into four sections based on Hippocrates’ humors–melancholic, choleric, etc. When one man decides to escape his quarter, a life-changing journey ensues. Fascinating, and really should be a movie.
• Never Let Me Go by Kazuo Ishiguro. Most dystopian works force us to examine what it means to be human by turning society on end. This one does that more than most, as it is revealed gradually that the characters are considered something less than that for a horrifying reason. Falls into the “chilling and depressing” category, but the writing is beautiful.
• The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins. Perhaps this is better categorized under “fantasy,” but any world that forces children to fight to the death counts as a dystopia for me. Another YA novel I picked up after two of our reviewers stayed up all night to finish it. Katniss, who takes the place of her younger sister in the tournament, is a strong female heroine, something I look for in a novel.

Anyone else have any favorites that I should pick up? Of course, there are the classics, like Brave New World and 1984…

Assassins did not frighten Peter, but there were creatures before which he trembled: cockroaches. When he traveled, he never entered a house until he had been assured that no cockroaches were present and his own room had been carefully swept by his own servants. This followed an episode in which Peter, as a guest at dinner in a country house, asked if his hst ever had cockroaches. “Not many,” the host replied, “and to chase them away, I have pinned a living one to the wall.” He pointed to the place where the insect was pinned, still squirming, not far from the Tsar. With a roar, Peter leaped from the table, gave his host a tremedous blow and rushed out of the house.

It was there! I was starting to wonder, since it didn’t turn up until page 799.

That’s not all. Peter was fascinated by dwarves, perhaps because he was 6’7,” and collected them and played with them like toys. He especially liked for them to leap out of cakes at banquets.

He hated formality and would sleep in the meanest room available when he traveled, often shunning luxurious rooms to shoo servants out of their quarters and sleep on a pallet on the floor.

Of course, the book covers more than these details. And it’s practically a biography of several other European leaders of the time, especially Charles XII of Sweden, Peter’s nemesis for more than 20 years. Massie knows the history and character of Russia inside and out (at least, as far as someone who has never been there can tell). You couldn’t have this level of detail without that depth of knowledge.

Highly recommended despite the length. But pick up the hardcover.  I finally found one for $2 at McKay’s (heaven! more about that later) and the last 200 pages went a lot faster.

The History of Love was a re-read for me—I read it originally a few months before it was published in May 2005 to decide about covering it for work. At the editorial meeting, the point was raised that we had just interviewed Jonathan Safran Foer, so interviewing his wife the very next month seemed a bit strange. I remember agreeing that it was, but saying that if we wanted to feature the best book of the month, we should do it anyway. I had brought the galley home with me to finish because I had wanted to keep reading, and had finished the book in one night. It made me cry.

So I picked it up again with a bit of trepidation. Would it be as good the second time around? Would I cry? Yes, and yes. A History of Love is one of those books you think about long after you’ve finished it, because it has one of those endings that makes you re-evaluate everything that came before. It reminds people who like to read of why they read, of the pull of stories, the power of love and imagination.

a beautiful book

Even if it didn’t do any of those things, it would stay in your head because of the vivid rhythm of its language, and its honest, complete portrayal of two lonely people who can’t help but keep reaching out to the world despite rebuffs and setbacks. It’s one of the best books I’ve read and highly recommended. Our book club discussion was one of the best we’d had in a long time, even though some people hadn’t finished yet. Reading over this, I realize it’s all visceral gushing and very little calm appraisal but if you can’t gush on your blog, where can you?

Book club also gave me the idea for two more posts, so hopefully there’ll be more frequent updates here.In the meantime, if you’re looking for something to read, give this one a try. It’s on Google book search. Read the first chapter and you might find yourself heading to the bookstore.

The People of the Book by Geraldine Brooks. March is still my favorite book of hers (it deserved the Pulitzer it got), but this story of how people of different faiths and cultures preserved a remarkable Jewish manuscript for 600 years is marvelously moving.
Rethinking Thin by Gina Kolata. The science of losing weight is surprisingly interesting, at least as related by this NYT columnist.
The Black Tower by Louis Bayard. This historical novel about what may have happened the French Dauphin is simply wonderful. I even said so in print.

Darling Jim

Which one? Darling Jim. I recommend it. In fact, depending on how interesting the author seems to be, I might recommend it for a feature in our April issue. The novel opens with a horrible murder scene: a woman is found dead in her Dublin home along with two of her twenty-something nieces, whom she had  kept prisoner in her house for three months, slowly poisoning them. But why? And where is the third sister? The crime seems destined to remain unsolved, until an aimless postal clerk, Niall, finds one of the sisters’ diaries in the dead letter box and decides to find the answers himself. It leads him to a small town, and the story of a charming stranger who swept in and changed the course of the sisters’ lives.

Darling Jim is something of a cross between The Lovely Bones and The Thirteenth Tale. Like Sebold’s memorable debut, it makes the reader fall in love with characters who are dead (much of the novel is told in the voices of two of the sisters, Fiona and Róisin, through their diaries). Like Setterfield’s, it has a Gothic tone and “stories” that hold clues to real-life mysteries. And like both novels, it contains just the right balance of literary merit and commercial appeal that could lead to bestseller status.

So in the interest of keeping this place lively, here are a few of the books I loved in 2008. Best short story collection: The Boat by Nam Le. This collection of short stories by an Iowa Writers’ Workshop grad doesn’t read like one. In fact, the first story in the collection skewers this type of story so accurately you have to smile — and then leaves you haunted by an ambiguous (to me at least), heart-rending conclusion. Single-author short story collections frequently bore me because they repeat similar themes and settings, but not Le’s.

Favorite cultural critique: The Terror Dream by Susan Faludi. This study of how 9/11 affected the American psyche, especially with regard to the role of women, is fascinating and thought-provoking.

First book to make me cry: City of Thieves by David Benioff. One of the best reviewers I work with  says this book belongs among the ranks of such great wartime literature as Slaughterhouse 5 and Catch-22. Not having read either of those novels I can’t say for sure if he’s right (How many guilty confessions can one blog take? Looks like we’re going to find out.), but if they are anything like this amazing book, I need to pick them up right now. Set during the siege of Leningrad, this novel is perfectly plotted and paced (Benioff is also a screenwriter), but also beautifully written. It is a quest story, and a coming-of-age story, but most of all it’s the story of a friendship that develops under extraordinary circumstances. The best novel you’ve never heard of.

Favorite character study: American Wife by Curtis Sittenfeld. Despite a somewhat weak ending, I loved all 400-odd pages of Sittenfeld’s third novel. She shines at characterization — the first half alone (especially the section where Alice/Laura goes with Charlie/George to his family’s Maine compound) is worth the cost of the book. Though I have a sneaking suspicion that her Bushes are much more interesting than the real-life family, after reading this novel even the most diehard Bush-hater will have a little bit of sympathy for the man and his wife.

Favorite Southern novel: The Help by Kathryn Stockett. This isn’t a 2008 book, but I read it in 2008 so I think it counts. There have been many books written about the relationship between blacks and whites during the 60s, but Stockett’s debut novel stands head and shoulders above most of them. Set in Jackson, Mississippi in 1962, it is narrated by three different women — one white, two black — who end up working together to change their town for the better.

Favorite literary criticism: The Magician’s Book by Laura Miller. If you loved The Chronicles of Narnia as a child, you must read this book. Part bio of Lewis, part musing on the joy of reading, part literary criticism, it’s 100% compelling.

Favorite YA: The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins. Maybe it’s from reading books like Narnia when I was a kid, but YA novels set in alternate worlds hold a certain fascination for me. Every year, two children from each district are chosen by lottery to fight in a tournament that has only one survivor. When Kat’s younger sister is selected, Kat takes her place.

And finally…Best worst book of 2008: Breaking Dawn by Stephenie Meyer. I had something of a love/hate relationship with this entire series — the feminist in me didn’t like Bella’s total dependence on Edward and the submergence of her identity in his, not to mention the fact that he was basically a controlling stalker (sneaking in her window to watch her sleep? Yikes!). Yet at the same time, the angsty teenager in me swooned over the romance! sparkles! and, well, angst that enveloped the series.  Meyer writes for — and from — the id. That said, the last installment was totally awesome in a crazy way. There was no huge confrontation between the Volturi and the Cullens.  Bella got everything she wanted even when it meant breaking all the rules of the Meyer-verse, and she ended up being the best vamp ever. Readers were outraged — but did they really expect anything else, given the rest of the series?

Read on for the full list for January.

• Peter the Great by Robert K. Massie (reread). My college roommates can attest to my love for this book — I regaled them with Peter the Great trivia for weeks after reading it for the first time. This  bio was part of the reason I wanted to go to St. Petersburg in the first place, so with the trip coming up, I figured I’d better reread so I can regale Dot with all that same trivia while we’re in Russia (go ahead and thank me now, Dot!). A lot of biographies claim to be about someone who’s “larger than life,” but Peter really was. And yes I’m aware of how cheesy that sounds.
• An Ice Cold Grave by Charlaine Harris. The third Harper Connelly novel. I haven’t bought or borrowed it yet but have a feeling I’ll need to read it or something like it after the horribly busy week coming up at the office.
• Sister Carrie by Theodore Dreiser. Laura Miller inspired me to add this one. I usually find her book reviews to be dead on (and I love, love, loved The Magician’s Book — I have never read a better depiction of the magic of reading). Here’s her post about Dreiser. I’ll write more on this after I’ve read the book.
• A Thousand Splendid Suns by Khaled Hosseini (list).  I think I have a friend reading along with me on this one.
• Darling Jim by Christian Moerk. This is actually an ARC, but we had an extra one and it looked really interesting. It’s a literary murder mystery about sisters that’s getting great advance reviews. ETA: Read 01.09.09
  

That’s it for this month — I have a feeling I won’t have as much time to read as usual. What’s on your list for January?

• Everything Is Illuminated by Jonathan Safran Foer. I read Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close after a strong recommendation from my boss — and found it much more poignant and compelling than I’d expected from the descriptions, which sounded gimmicky.  But for some reason I just never got around to the first one.
• War and Peace by Leo Tolstoy. Cliche alert, I know. It’s on everyone’s list. Though it’s been on my shelf for years, I am going to Russia this year and a good friend has promised to read it with me so odds are it might actually happen.
• Things Fall Apart by Chinua Achebe. I love the title of this book. I feel like I should have already read it. That’s about it.
• Madame Bovary by Gustave Flaubert. As a French minor (and major Francophile), this is another book I should have already read. Would like to try it in the French but will start with my English edition, which has been waiting patiently on my shelf.
• The Good Soldier by Ford Madox Ford. As part of a fervently “Ford” family, and a Mustang owner, I was shocked that I had not heard of this author before Maud Newton mentioned him on her blog. All kidding aside, I’m a Victorian-era enthusiast and aside from the very biggest names, am woefully unread when it comes to early 20th-century writing.
• The Lawless Roads by Graham Greene. Another early 20th-century giant.
• Middlemarch by George Eliot. Maybe the third time will be the charm for this novel? I keep hearing people rave about it but have never made it past page 100 or so. Eliot is the exception to my love of all things Victorian (didn’t much like Mill on the Floss when I read it in college) but maybe your reading tastes change every 7 years like your tastebuds?
• Lady Audley’s Secret by Mary Elizabeth Braddon. This should be fun.
• The Corrections by Jonathan Franzen (reread). I loved this book so much when I read it that I almost immediately gave it away to someone, because they just HAD to read it too. In the light of the financial crisis, a reread is in order.
• A Thousand Splendid Suns by Khaled Hosseini. I am the one person in the world who’s never read a word by this man. Shameful.
• Black Swan Green by David Mitchell. Read a third of the galleys, then had to send them out. I eventually got a finished copy, but never went back to it. A shame because the beginning was excellent.

What’s on your must-read list for the year?

A few books from the list

This has served me pretty well so far, but after 20-odd years of reading this way I’ve decided to try to be a bit more deliberate in my selections this year, to see if it affects the way I read and think about books. Basically, I’ll be going on a diet — but instead of monitoring what goes into my body, I’m watching out for my mind. Each month, I’ll make up a list of books to be read and document my progress here. I’m sure I’ll cheat and throw in a few bright and shiny things…but I plan on sticking to it for the most part. Anyone who finds this blog is welcome to read along with me, critique my selections or offer up new ones. How do you decide what to read?