weekly book review: pride and prejudice and zombies, by jane austen and seth grahame-smith

It's only been out for a little while, but Pride and Prejudice and Zombies has already received so much Internet buzz that I feared my little review would be a bit redundant. However, I get paid in orange cream soda and Monopoly money to write for this here weblog, so I guess redundancy is the price one must occasionally pay for being a follower of pretty to think so. I simply can't be the first one to report on each and every trend, doves. ACTUAL paychecks must be earned, else the repo men come and carry my laptop away, and then where would we be?

I'll tell you where. Holding a lovely orange cream soda, however Internetless. That's where. (Shudder.)

Anyway, I have quite shamelessly cheated on my New Year's reading resolution by reading Seth Grahame-Smith's Pride and Prejudice and Zombies rather than finishing Austen's original novel, something I've been half-heartedly trying to do for roughly ten years or so. It was, however, a necessary shortcut seeing as I suffer from Britlitaphobia. Makes me all twitchy and glassy-eyed and irritable. Not pretty. BUT, since the addition of zombie mayhem makes most things better, I figured it could only improve Austen's beloved classic.

And did it? Why yes. I'd say so, yes. And here's some proof:

"It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife." So begins Austen's novel. "It is a truth universally acknowledged that a zombie in possession of brains must be in want of more brains." So begins Grahame-Smith's version. Clearly, both are good, however, the second is obviously much, much better. It's a truer statement with fewer commas and more zombies. Better.

In the original, Elizabeth Benet is a feisty, witty, fiercely independent young lady who will not stand to be insulted. Which is good. But in P&P&Z, she's all of these things PLUS a blood-thirsty zombie slayer, trained by a Shaolin master in China to protect her beloved England from a never ending hoard of "unmentionables." Which is clearly better.

Darcy is still Darcy, but here he cracks jokes about the male anatomy and threatens to cut Miss Bingley's tongue out if she doesn't stop her idle chatter. Lydia is still Lydia, but now her empty headedness is rewarded by spending the remainder of her years married to an invalid, forever changing his soiled bed linens. Charlotte is still Charlotte, except it now makes more sense why she would marry the clearly revolting Mr. Collins: in Grahame-Smith's version she becomes infected, is slowly turning into a unmentionable, and wants a taste of married life before she joins Satan's army. So, her decision to marry a boring, chubby sycophant finally makes some sense. Better!

Furthermore, Pride and Prejudice and Zombies has pictures:

"Mr. Darcy watched Elizabeth and her sisters work their way outward, beheading zombie after zombie as they went."

...as well as discussion questions at the end:

"Some critics have suggested that the zombies represent the authors' views towards marriage -- an endless curse that sucks the life out of you and just won't die. Do you agree?"

Which, again, makes it bet-ter.

In all honesty, I'm not sure how well the joke will hold up for someone who hasn't already read (at least in part) Austen's original novel, but if you 1) are in possession of a sense of humor, and 2) are already familiar with the source material, I think it's fair to assume that you'll have fun reading Pride and Prejudice and Zombies. It's exactly like reading a Jane Austen novel, except better. It's actually interesting.

Pride and Prejudice and Zombies

Jane Austen and Seth Grahame-Smith

2009, 319 pages

weekly book review: american wife, by curtis sittenfeld

Seeing how I've never been a huge fan of either Laura Bush or books with women wearing big, fluffy white bridal gowns on the cover, I probably would have never gotten around to reading American Wife had I not had my socks knocked off my Curtis Sittenfeld's previous novel, PREP. However, since PREP was so awesome and Sittenfeld such a talented writer gifted with both Didion-esque prose and a knack for brilliant characterization, I was hot to read American Wife despite all the reasons I might have otherwise passed it by. And as was expected, Ms. Sittenfeld did not disappoint.

American Wife takes the skeleton of Laura Bush's life and personality and, around it, builds the fictional story of Alice Blackwell, a polite, bookish woman from a liberal, middle class background who marries a charismatic man from a powerful Republican family. From what I've learned, the stories of Alice Blackwell and Laura Bush are as dissimilar as they are similar, but it was, of course, the similarities I found most intriguing.

Like Ms. Bush, Alice Blackwell is a Democrat, an educator, and a voracious reader who, perhaps inexplicably, falls for a staunch Republican who, though funny and lovable, has a reputation for being a bit of a screw up. Like Ms. Bush, the primary tragedy of Alice's life occurs in high school when she accidentally kills one of her classmates in a automobile accident. Laura Bush's rumored abortion makes the book, as does George W.'s alcoholism, subsequent religious reawakening, and tumultuous presidency. But rather than being a true autobiography (which has been done before), Sittenfeld takes these truths and imagines the story behind them. Thanks to Alice, readers can understand how a woman can love a person she generally disapproves of, what it's like to be one of the most famous people on earth, and what literate Laura finds so appealing about George.

I have no idea what Sittenfeld's politics are, but she treats all of her characters with the utmost respect while refusing to shy away from some of the most embarrassing details of the former first family's history. And yet, this isn't really the story of a First Lady as much as it's the story of a very complex woman whose perfectly average life takes a very unusual turn. With the exception of the ending (Which sort of sucked, to be frank. It was rushed and Alice became a massive whiner), American Wife is an absorbing read. It's an ambitious, unusual page turner, regardless of your politics.

American Wife

Curtis Sittenfeld

2008, 558 pages (Paperback)

random posts of pretty

From Revolutionary Road, by Richard Yates

(Which I just finished for my book club, and which I thought was a beautifully written, flawless novel, even if I read most of it wanting to punch Frank Wheeler squarely in the jaw.)

I still had this idea that there was a whole world of marvelous golden people somewhere, as far ahead of me as the seniors at Rye when I was in sixth grade; people who knew everything instinctively, who made their lives work out the way they wanted without even trying, who never had to make the best of a best job because it never occurred to them to do anything less than perfectly the first time. Sort of heroic super-people, all of them beautiful and witty and calm and kind, and I always imagined that when I did find them I'd suddenly know that I belonged among them, that I was one of them, that I’d been meant to be one of them all along, and everything in the meantime had been a mistake; and they'd know it too. I'd be like the ugly duckling among the swans.

book review: the end, by salvatore scibona

One of five finalists for The 2008 National Book Award, The End is an impressive debut whose serpentine plot hovers around a single tumultuous moment during a Catholic street carnival held in an Italian-American enclave of 1953 Cleveland.  Amidst a backdrop of racial tensions, poverty and immigration, this pivotal moment ties together the beautifully developed characters who makes up this highly psychological drama:  There's Rocco, the town baker, who has just received word that his son has perished in a Korean POW camp;  Mrs. Marini, an elderly abortionist, who is looking for a protégé before she dies and thinks she has found one in Lina, a would-be spinster; and the story's antagonist - a jeweler - who is responsible for a large part of the novel's dread.   

In a book that often reads more like an epic lyric poem than a novel, Scibona's characters become the focus of a piece that is often more psychology than plot.  In The End, Scibona seems to be channeling heavyweight modernists such as James Joyce, William Faulkner and T.S. Eliot, so it should follow that his novel is dense, poetic, often awe-inspiring and frequently difficult.  

Ultimately, it's the author's sentences that become both his blessing and his curse.  The End is comprised of gorgeously opaque sentences like "If he could denude himself from his mineral self, leaving only caption, he would become at last translucent, transient, timeless," and "I was a fleeting thought the mind that the sea was might light upon and then forget." Scibona's writing is as breathtaking as it is obfuscatory, and, as such, it follows that The End is a novel that demands much of its reader and one that must be read slowly. 

Ultimately, I found The End to be a bit of an enigma.  Scibona's writing sparkled, his characters troubled, his story mystified, and he unapologetically tested me as a reader, just like the modernist authors he appeared to be channeling.  And as is the case with the work of Eliot and Faulkner, I must be honest and admit that I appreciate what he created more than I enjoyed it.

The End

Salvatore Scibona

2008, 294 pages

five minute book review: johnny got his gun, by dalton trumbo

I've got a more fleshed-out review of something else simmering on the back burner, but for today here's my lightening-quick response to Dalton Trumbo's Johnny Got His Gun, which is currently up for discussion amongst my book club peeps:

Johnny Got His Gun is perhaps the single most psychologically disturbing thing I've ever read.  A stream of consciousness narrative of a WWI soldier who has (perhaps unrealistically) survived a shell at the expense of all of his limbs and most of his senses, Trumbo's classic novel remains one of the most effective anti-war pieces of our modern era.   It's a lightening-quick read, but one that leaves a lasting impression for its searing portrayal of the effects of modern warfare.  If you've never gotten around to it then you probably should at some point, however do brace yourself for some powerfully disturbing imagery.   I have finished it, consequently I need a hug.

(And after tackling this back-to-back with Say You're One of Them, trust that I'm now in the market for some significantly lighter fare.  Something with unicorns who poo rainbows, perhaps.)

Johnny Got His Gun

Dalton Trumbo

1939, 256 pages

book review: say you're one of them, by uwem akpan

Say You’re One of Them is a heartbreaking collection of short stories (or, rather, two novellas and three short stories), each set in a different country in Africa. A champion of children, Uwem's collection shines a clear light on the harsh realities of life for many African kids.

In each of these stories, innocence collides with corruption. Set in Benin, “Fattening for Gabon” depicts an uncle who, as the guardian of two AIDS orphans, plans to sell his young charges into slavery. In “An Ex-Mas Feast,” a twelve-year-old girl takes to the Nairobi streets, prostituting herself so that she can feed her family and raise money for her younger brother’s school fees, as he's the sole hope of the destitute family. And in the horrifying “My Parents’ Bedroom,” two Rwandan children bear witness to the unspeakable as their Hutu friends and family members form a violent, mindless mob set on ridding their community of its Tutsi residents. It isn't pretty to think about the things that these children are forced to witness and endure, however these fictitious stories are the reality of many kids, and it's a truth that far too many of us would rather ignore.

Since author Uwem Akpan is also a Jesuit priest, it is hardly surprising that religion permeates these stories, but never in a way that is dogmatic. Rather than choose sides, Akpan instead highlights the innocent victims of religiously-fueled hatred. In the elegantly simple “In What Language Is That?,” a little Ethiopian girl is no longer allowed to see or speak to "Best Friend" because she is Christian and her little friend is Muslim. Although violence is implied rather than illustrated in this piece, the reader just the same feels the dismay of these two little ones who fail to see the difference between them. Following that is the novella “Luxurious Hearses,” which depicts a sixteen-year-old orthodox Muslim boy who, born Catholic, becomes a target of resentment and fear in his own Islamic community, and then again amongst the Christian refugees he tries to flee south with after a violent Islamic uprising in his native Nigeria. And while I felt that this piece was the weakest of the bunch, its ending remains seared in my memory.

Although I generally found the novellas to be less affecting than the short stories - which were somehow more powerful for their conciseness - all five of these pieces are piercing and powerful, and Akpan's prose is positively beautiful despite the ugly subject matter. In short, Say You're One of Them is a startling collection by an important author. Whatever Akpan writes next, I will read.

Say You're One of Them
Uwem Akpan
2008, 368 pages

monday book review - the enemy within: 2,000 years of witch-hunting in the western world, by john demos

Like most of us, I first read The Crucible as a sophomore in high school; but unlike most of the sophomores in my present-day classroom, I found it fascinating.  It wasn't the supernatural aspect that hooked me so much (Although I won't pretend I didn't have a strong interest in the occult.  I did, however that's another post for another day...), rather I was fascinated by how an entire community could go so stark raving, murderously mad - finding witches and wizards where there clearly were none.   It was at first easy enough for me to shrug it off as a sign of the times.  Puritans, I had learned, seemed predisposed to neurosis.  But when I later learned that Arthur Miller had intended his play to serve as an allegory for the Red Scare of the 1950s, meaning that "witch hunts" remain a concern for the modern world, I was newly intrigued.  After all, it's not as if I hadn't already figured out by that point that human beings could be crazy, but I was pretty curious as to what extent we could collectively lose our minds.  It's a curiosity I hold to this day, and if anything its only strengthened over time.

And so, I was drawn to John Demos' book.  I already knew a considerable amount about the literal witch hunts in both Europe and America, however I was curious what connections a historian could make between the literal hunts of the past and the figurative hunts of the modern era.  I was hoping for a readable synthesis of the topic as well as a psychological explanation for the phenomenon.  In retrospect, I'll admit that this was a pretty tall order indeed.

John Demos' The Enemy Within is a "broad-gauge summary and synthesis of the entire subject" of witchcraft, and is divided into four sections: an overview of the European witch hunting crazes of the 16th and 17th Centuries, an overview of witch hunting in Colonial America, a deeper look into the Salem witch hunts, and a broad look at figurative, modern-day witch hunts such as the anti-Mason movement, the child abuse scare of the 1980s and, of course, McCarthyism.   Demos clearly knows his stuff, and I got the sense that the scope of what he was trying to do was so broad that he could only really touch on the tip of the iceberg.  For someone new to the topic this book will serve as a nice introduction, however I couldn't help but feel frustrated that I came away from it without having learned more.  Furthermore, I found myself wishing he had spent less time on Colonial America and more on the figurative witch hunts of the modern era. 

In sum, if you are looking for a crash-course in the history of witch hunting in the Western World, then The Enemy Within is the book for you.  However, be warned that it's a bit like a poorly-prepared holiday turkey - dry, and will leaving you wanting more.

The Enemy Within: 2,000 Years of Witch-Hunting in the Western World

John Demos

2008, 318 pages

pandalutions, etc.

Well, my New Year's resolution (or "Pandalution" if I'm feeling particularly witty) seems to have already hit a major road block. Turns out giant pandas are expensive, bitey, illegal to obtain, and consume MASSIVE amounts of bamboo. But I'm not giving up. Oh no. It's just proving a bit trickier than I originally thought, is all.

In the meantime, I have found this adorable, boffo picture to tide me over while I wait for Nathan to rob a bank, convert my backyard into a bamboo forest, and then find out where in the dickens the Chinese black market is located:

By my estimate, this should only take a couple of weeks. I'll keep you updated so you can start planning your visit.

In other resolution news, I've recently settled on one more, and since it somewhat involves this blog I thought I'd share. See, I have a bit of a problem in that I've developed a nasty habit of borrowing/buying books that then sit in limbo - half or completely unread - on my shelf. Times are tough, wastefulness stinks, and it's never cool to borrow and not return, and so I've made a vow that before I buy or borrow anything new, I first have to finish something I already have. And so, I will be reading, then reviewing, each of these books at some point this year:

Say You're One of Them, by Uwem Akpan*

Pride and Prejudice, by Jane Austen*+

The Yiddish Policeman's Union, by Michael Chabon

Maps and Legends, by Michael Chabon*

The Enemy Within, by John Demos*

A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius, by Dave Eggers*

American Psycho, by Bret Easton Ellis+

Everything is Illuminated, by Jonathan Safran Foer*+

Paper Towns, by John Green

Catch 22, by Joseph Heller*

Shadow Country, by Peter Matthiessen

Love in the Time of Cholera, by Gabriel García Márquez*

One Hundred Years of Solitude, by Gabriel García Márquez

Asylum, by Patrick McGrath*

Twilight, by Stephenie Meyer*+

Lolita, by Vladimir Nabokov*

American Pastoral, by Philip Roth*

The Story of Edgar Sawtelle, by David Wroblewski

The End, by Salvatore Scibona*

A Supposedly Fun Thing I'll Never Do Again, by David Foster Wallace*

I will call these twenty books my "Resolution Reads," and once I've started one of them I will not allow myself to read anything else until I've finally finished it. Many of them are frightfully long or frightfully British, so although I'm still going to try to review one each week understand if it doesn't happen, and if you have any thoughts or suggestions on my list (i.e., Throw it out! It's awful!) then please do share.

So there you have it. Enjoy your weekend, and Viva la Pandalution!

* Indicates titles I've started, sometimes several times over, but for whatever reason I just never finished.

+ Indicates dread.