AMae’s Book #35: The Hunger Games, by Suzanne Collins

*picks jaw up off floor*

Well, gang, I finally got around to reading the celebrated The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins. (I wanted to wait until the third and final installment was about to be released, which happens next week.) It’s classified as a Young Adult series, but should definitely NOT be limited to that. Poor me, trying to read this as I drive across the country – I pull it out of my bag and read at Wendy’s, trying not to get my copy greasy from the fries.

It’s a fascinating premise: a vision of the future, in which an oppressive government keeps it’s districts inline by hosting a yearly event known as the Hunger Games. Two representatives from each district, a boy and a girl between the ages of 12 and 18, are sent to the Capitol, and are made to fight to the death, with one victor emerging to live a life of wealth and privilege. DANG.

We are introduces to Katniss Everdeen, a 16-year-old girl from one of the poorer districts, who finds herself competing in the Hunger Games, and not thinking she’ll survive. I mean, wouldn’t you? She’s actually hungry – she’s had to fight for her survival and the survival of her family since her father died, illegally hunting game and trading it on the (for all intents and purposes) black market. And now she’s thrown into the middle of a barbaric ritual in which she is a pawn, of which she is only all too aware of.

This is a book series that will go down as a classic. You read The Giver, 1984, Brave New World, and now… The Hunger Games. I’m in the business of selling books, and I have yet to hear a bad thing about the books. Not one. I picked it up, got about six chapters in, and had to force myself to shut the book so I could sleep. I’ve already had a dream where Katniss makes an appearance. If you’re wondering what to read next, READ IT. It’s not Twilight – this has substance! Real emotion! Action! Non-angsty drama! And the writing is superb.

I have the next two books in the trilogy on order, and can’t wait for them to arrive!

AMae’s Book #34: Peyton Place, by Grace Metalious

In continuing with my trend of reading banned books from the ’50s, I give you Peyton Place, by Grace Metalious – a novel of incest, abortion, murder, and small town gossips. This is a book I’ve read numerous times over the last decade, much like Minor Characters, and as such my opinion of it has changed/evolved each time I’ve read it. When I first read it, it was revelatory to me. It was so different from any other book I had read, and I was completely enthralled by it. Shortly thereafter I got the film version and was greatly disappointed with the sanitized portrayal of the events. This last time… well, Metalious is still a great writer. I have to say that. But I didn’t find the book as “eye-opening” as I once did. But I was still entertained!

One thing that REALLY bugged me about the differences between the book and film versions was the character of Norman Page. In the book, he is truly one messed up kid, with a very unhealthy relationship with his mother that he never is quite able to escape. In the book, he’s a war hero who asserts his independence. I like Russ Tamblyn and all, but he lacked the complexity of the character. (It was a Hays Code thing, I know, but still!)

The other thing that really bugged me? Lee Phillips (in the film) is virtually NOTHING like the description of his character Tom Makris/Rossi. His voice is too whiny for me, and he totally doesn’t exert the male authority his character is supposed to wield. This is a man the female readers are supposed to swoon over when they read, but on screen he falls flat.

Back to the book. Of the female characters, only a few are somewhat redeemable – Constance MacKenzie, her daughter Allison (at times), and Selena Cross. Constance is frigid from fear of her affair with a married man (and the subsequent birth of her illegitimate daughter) being found out. She has to maintain an image to save herself, but is saved from herself by the handsome and understanding school principal Tom Makris (who happens to be one of the two redeemable male characters, along with the town doctor). Allison I could identify with. A young, idealistic girl who aspires to be a writer. I’ve had her thoughts, I’ve had some of her experiences. Because her head is in the clouds so much she has trouble relating to some of the other characters, but I get her. And Selena Cross is made out to be practically perfect in every way. She has a childhood sweetheart who intends to marry her, she doesn’t sink to the level of her slovenly mother and drunken stepfather, and is a gorgeous and caring human being. That is, until she murders her stepfather after years of sexual abuse.

That’s what gave the book it’s reputation – the murder and the not-quite-but-really-is incest. It isn’t the sole focus of the book, and believe me there are some great side plots and characters that would make great books on their own, but so much of the action leads to what unfolds once it is revealed that Selena committed the murder. And it’s scary to read what some of the characters do and/or say, and think of what you would do in their shoes.

This is a book that housewives would discuss in whispers, and teenage girls would hide under their mattress and read by flashlight. It was an enormous success when it was first published in 1956, and the movie did pretty well, too. And eventually the characters and events of the small New England town were sanitized enough for it to become a popular half-hour TV drama that aired for a number of seasons in the late 1960s. I still think some of the characters in Peyton Place are absolutely fascinating, and if I were an English major I might choose to write essays solely on a few of them. Ten years or so after reading it for the first time, and having lived a little more of life, I’m not as shocked by the way the characters act and behave towards each other. But it’s still an engaging read, and revealing as to what was considered “dirty” half a century ago.

AMae’s Book #33: Lady Chatterley’s Lover, by D.H. Lawrence

Yes, I read banned books. And I enjoy most of them. Well, “enjoy” probably isn’t the right word to describe Lady Chatterley’s Lover, but it was an interesting read.

I’m learning that quite a few of my acquaintances know of the book because of the show Mad Men – there’s one scene in the first season where it comes up. A dog-eared copy is passed around the office, and one of the other secretaries tells Peggy not to read it on the train because “it’ll attract the wrong element.” Good advice, but I found the book pretty tame by modern standards. (Is that bad?)

The book focuses on Connie, the Lady Chatterley, a woman married to a man who was paralyzed in the Great War, and has led a peaceful, somewhat content existence with him. But Connie is bored. One day while out for a walk on the grounds of her husband’s large estate, she meets Mellors, the groundskeeper, and in short order the two become lovers. Connie unearths a real passion inside of herself that had remained dormant during her marriage, and feels herself become alive again. Mellors is a complex man, a respected former soldier who allows himself to remain in the lower classes out of some bizarre sense of duty.

Personally, I didn’t find it too explicit. (I mean, sure there are some explicit scenes in it, but I’ve come across worse by flipping through the Romance mass markets at work.) What was more interesting to me were the discussions the characters have about love and the relationships between men and women. I read books with a pencil, a habit I picked up in college, and I found myself starring and otherwise marking-up my copy of the book.

For instance:

“She liked to hear what they had to say, especially when Tommy was there. It was fun. Instead of men kissing you, and touching you, they revealed their minds to you. It was great fun! But what cold minds! [...] Clifford [her husband] and his cronies were not anti-social; they were more or less bent on saving mankind, or on instructing it, to say the least.”

“This was the feeling that echoed and re-echoed at the bottom of Connie’s soul: it was nothing, a wonderful display of nothingness. At the same time a display. A display! a display! a display!”

“Sex and a cocktail: they both lasted about as long, had the same effect, and amounted to about the same thing.” (Okay, that one I just found funny. Reminds me of Oscar Wilde.)

It was interesting to watch as Connie, the Lady Chatterley, learns new things about herself, and her needs and wants, and uncovers new thoughts about her husband – all due to having an affair. And it was interesting to see other people’s reactions to said affair once it started to be revealed. The writing was superb, and the observations about people were wonderful to read, but I can’t say the book changed my life. I guess I can only read about wretchedly wealthy people for so long before getting a little annoyed. But, I’m glad I can say I’ve read it.

AMae’s Book #32: Harry Potter & the Goblet of Fire, by J.K. Rowling

I continue my Harry Potter binge, though I do feel like taking a break from them until perhaps after my impending move. I find Harry Potter very comforting, and the last half of the series might be nice to save for a lonely night. But boy, are they fun!! This past weekend being Harry Potter’s birthday weekend (with Harry turning 30!) I watched around three of the Potter films and have discussed Potter with all my nerdy co-workers and roomie. Fun, dorky times!

Heh. It’s been mentioned that the film of Goblet of Fire has been ruined for some people once they realize Cedric Diggory is Edward Cullen. Which reminds me –

AMae’s Books #30 & #31: Harry Potter & the Chamber of Secrets/Prisoner of Azkaban, by J.K. Rowling

Okay, see, Taylor has been begging me for years to go to Wrockstock with her, and this year I finally gave in and got a ticket. So in the beginning of November I will be surrounded by wizard rockers for four days in the Middle of Nowhere, Missouri. I actually can’t wait!! Summer camp in the fall for nerds! And tomorrow night I’m going to Salt Lake to see The Remus Lupins perform!

So naturally I’ve been in a Harry Potter mood. And so has my roommate, come to think of it. She’s sitting next to me watching clips from A Very Potter Sequel. I may have convinced her to join me seeing The Remus Lupins tomorrow. We spent the last half hour listening to different snippets of wizard rock bands.

Anyway, it looks like I’ll be going back through the series over the next few months or so. Just to warn you.

AMae’s Book #29: Minor Characters, by Joyce Johnson

Minor Characters by Joyce Johnson is one of my favorite books, and I have my beat-up copy to prove it. It’s a memoir from a woman who was Jack Kerouac‘s girlfriend at the time On The Road was published. What I’ve loved about this memoir is how Johnson’s life paralleled mine in many different ways. Not entirely, but enough that I could make connections, and those connections have only deepened as I’ve gotten older.

Now, my opinion of the Beats has evolved over the last few years. As I’ve stated before, I think that overall the Beats were drunken buffoons who lacked quite a bit of discipline. They wrote some brillant stuff, but they had to ruin themselves to do it. And as of late, I’ve enjoyed reading about them rather than their actual works. But I did have a period when On The Road was the end-all of Great American Literature, and the Beats remain a subject I like to study.

Minor Characters starts with Johnson’s recollections of growing up near the Columbia University campus in the late 1940′s/early 50′s. She was the only child of Jewish parents, and had a mother who desperately wanted her child to have more than she herself had ever had growing up. Johnson’s mother wanted her to become a great musical composer. But by the age of 13, Johnson was already breaking away from the guidelines set down by her parents, and sneaking off the Greenwich Village on Sundays to be around folk singers and the proletariate. She led a double life for many years, being the good girl her parents knew during the week, and a bohemian on the weekends.

After a brief period of time when she wanted to not be bohemian but collegiate, Johnson reconnected with her old life, and began to meet the people who made up the core of the Beat movement, starting with Allen Ginsberg. In fact, it’s Ginsberg who sets her up one night on a blind date to meet Jack Kerouac at a Howard Johnson.

Johnson gives a very interesting perspective on the movement, giving a woman’s side. The women of the Beats weren’t fully recognized until decades later, and at least a few realized how pushed aside they were. However “enlightened” the Beats were, they still harbored a sexist, 1950′s machismo. The women in their lives were expected to take care of the men, bear the financial burdens, and make babies. Someone had to be the adult in the relationship, and even if it meant they squash their creative tendencies in the process. (Decades later many of these women finally published memoirs and novels, all detached from their men.)

Reading the book again, I was particuarly amazed at how often Kerouac jerked Johnson around. Johnson was DEVOTED to Kerouac, and left a promising career in publishing because she felt she needed to be ready to go when he beckoned. He’d go off to Paris, or Mexico, or San Francisco, and she’d read his letters with glowing descriptions and plan on following him out there, and then he’d write “No, wait, hang on. The scene here isn’t as cool as I’ve painted it. Maybe I’ll see you in New York in a few weeks.” Lame.

Having lived with a lot of uncertainty in my life, of my own doing and not centered around a man, I actually got mad reading about this happening to Johnson. I don’t know how she put up with it. But bear it she did, and many years later could look back on it with perspective. Kerouac made a deep impression on her life, and whether or not that was a good thing is left up to you.

Out of curiosity, I asked some of my co-workers if they had any opinions on the Beats. Of the three I asked, none knew what I was talking about. I guess that’s your answer.

AMae’s Book #28: Doomed Queens, by Kris Waldherr

I have some catching up to do! Well, in honor of Bastille Day (a French national holiday I was surprised to learn few of my colleagues know about) I decided to marathon-read Doomed Queens by Kris Waldherr, a book I just picked up at the BYU Bookstore tent sale. Since it features Marie Antoinette, I figured the connection was close enough.

Doomed Queens is a collection of synopses of stories of queens throughout world history who have been “doomed” in one manner or another – the definitions of both “doomed” and “queen” are lose, as the stories of Mumtaz Mahal, the Indian queen who died in childbirth but inspired the building of the Taj Majal, and Eva Peron, technically a first lady, are included. I mean, with childbirth being a common way to the grave for most women through the ages, I was expecting more sensationalized death stories. Peron died of cancer, so I sort of see that one. But it made for an entertaining evening regardless.

Of course the famous stories of Marie Antoinette (natch), Cleopatra, and the wives of Henry VIII are here, and written with a little snark to match the unfortunate circumstances they lived and died in. But many other lesser-known women are included, like Cleopatra’s older sister Berenice who was executed by their father for being power-hungry, and Empress Xu Pingjun, a beloved wife who was poisoned during childbirth by a statesman’s jealous wife who wanted her daughter as empress. (A few years later when the emperor learned the truth behind his wife’s death, he had most of his new wife’s family executed.) Story after story of young princesses (try five years old) betrothed to cousins their age or younger, married in their teens, and killed before reaching middle age, maybe after bearing a male heir. Yikes.

It’s very interesting to learn even just a little bit about these women. While some of them were cruel rulers themselves, a good number of them were women caught in the middle of power struggles between rulers who may or may not have been crazy from inbreeding or syphilis, and tried to make the best of things. And it’s astounding to me how easily family members kill each other! Well, different times, different mores. But, shoot, you give your brother – the prince – a dirty look at tea and he’d have you killed in the night.

Of course the last story of the collection is that of Princess Di, who as we know was killed in a car crash being pursued by paparazzi, a year after divorcing from Prince Charles who claimed he never loved her. I’d called that doomed.

Seriously? I’m glad I’m not royal. And wasn’t born in the fourteenth century. As Waldherr says in her introduction, “despite the perks of royalty, it’s usually not good to be the queen.” Yep.

AMae’s Book #27: They Fought Like Demons, by DeAnne Blanton & Lauren M. Cook

This was a book I first read during my semester at College of Charleston when I took a Civil War class. I was fascinated by it, and now that I’m back in WBTS (War Between the States) mode, I got myself another copy and slowly made my way through it again (reading seems harder to buckle down and do these days). But Blanton and Cook are excellent writers, and I very much enjoyed learning about distaff soldiers in They Fought Like Demons.

Did you know women dressed up as men and fought in the WBTS? I didn’t until I read the book. It happened in the Revolutionary War as well, but I haven’t read a book on that yet. When the Civil War broke out, initially there were many volunteers on both sides, each thinking the war wouldn’t last more than a few months. As months turned into years, volunteers were hard to come by, and mostly anyone was accepted. The medical department wasn’t as thorough, either, and as long as a recruit could stand straight, had a trigger finger, and didn’t cough much, they were in the army. It’s estimated that around 400 women became soldiers during those four years, though other estimates have it in the thousands. They Fought Like Demons makes reference to over 200 documented cases of distaff (female) soldiers.

These women joined up for many reasons: some out of patriotism, others to follow husbands, brothers, or boyfriends they couldn’t bear to part with, some to escape poverty and prostitution. Back then men were paid more than women, and had far more opportunities for employment, and it was later discovered that at least a handful of women (though there could have been many more) retained their male identities after the war and were only discovered when medical problems arose. The famous incident being of Albert Cashier/Jennie Hodgers. She was put in an asylum because people thought she was crazy for posing as a man, but it just made her life easier to live life as a man. Many of her fellow soldiers came to her aide, not because she was a woman, but because she was a war buddy in trouble.

One thing I found particularly interesting was how these women were treated in the public eye. The Victorians had such stringent ideas of gender identity that for a woman to pose as a man wasn’t necessarily a cause for concern – depending on her motives. If she went to war out of overwhelming patriotism or love for a man, her motives were considered pure, and she might even be respected for what she did. If she did it out of a sense of adventure, or to better herself, she was suspect, and not always treated well by the press or her peers. Women soldiers wasn’t that uncommon, either! Enough incidents were publicized, and enough soldiers wrote home about it that the home front certainly was aware of the phenomenon. I found that particularly intriguing.

Having recently watched the movie Gettysburg, and seen the famous Pickett’s Charge portrayed, it unnerves me a little to learn that there were a few women in that battle, and at least one was injured in Pickett’s Charge and laid on the field all night, screaming. When women turned up among the bodies of the dead, many men were brought to tears at the sacrifice. And among the cases of distaff soldiers documented, not one was discovered out of poor performance. Most of the women were described as exemplary soldiers. When a distaff soldier gave birth in camp (a common avenue of discovery) many soldier noted amusement and disbelief that no one knew (except the father, of course) that the soldier was a woman!

They Fought Like Demons is quite an excellent read, full of fascinating stories that kept me wondering why there hasn’t been a movie about at least one of them? An excellent addition to my Civil War library. If you’re into history, gender studies, or just odd adventure stories, this is a title to check out!

AMae’s Book #26: The Love of the Last Tycoon, by F. Scott Fitzgerald

Officially past the halfway mark! I’m doing alright!

I have had F. Scott Fitzgerald’s last (and unfinished) novel The Love of the Last Tycoon sitting on my shelf since last summer. It’s a shorter novel, shorter than The Great Gatsby, I think, but that’s because Fitzgerald died of a heart attack before he could complete it. But I needed something classy to wash the stain of Twilight from me, and a Fitzgerald novel seemed perfect.

My mother and I had a little discussion on Facebook about it, so for those who might wonder – this novel was originally published in 1941 after being compiled by Fitzgerald’s friend Edmund Wilson under the title The Last Tycoon. The one I have here was compiled by Fitzgerald scholar Matthew Bruccoli in 1993 that is considered to be the most “complete” version, with the title believed to be preferred by Fitzgerald. Included in the appendix are selected working notes of Fitzgerald’s that I didn’t go through but explain not only his writing process but his intent for the novel.

Oh, did I love this one! I kept laughing aloud at some lines, and luckily have an English major roommate who understood and could laugh with me when I shared the funny bits. The book focuses on a movie mogul from the Golden Age of film, a “boy wonder” based on Irving Thalberg, and no doubt Fitzgerald was chiefly inspired by his brief and relatively unsuccessful stint in Hollywood. His observational humor is top-notch, like when his narrator, Cecilia (the daughter of a fellow movie mogul), says, “I grew up thinking that writer and secretary were the same except that a writer usually smelled of cocktails and came more often to meals.” That one cracked me up.

This novel also contains Fitzgerald’s only successful hero in Monroe Stahr, the “boy wonder.” His other heroes in his other novels either don’t have professions or leave them. Stahr is running a film studio! Pages are devoted to describing a typical day for Stahr and show his influence on those around him and on the industry itself. I found it fascinating to get a glimpse at Hollywood during its Golden Age. People into film may want to check this novel out just for that.

So, basically, Stahr stumbles upon a woman who looks eerily like his dead wife, and frankly doesn’t know how to handle that. He’s drawn to her, but senses the distance between them. And the narrator, Cecilia, also finds herself in love with Stahr and trying to gain his affections. Since the novel wasn’t completed, the point-of-view is a little odd, going between Cecilia and an omniscient narrator, but I didn’t find it too difficult. I was more interested in unveiling the human emotions that develop and complicate and torture – but unfortunately don’t reach a remotely satisfying ending!

It’s a darn shame it couldn’t be completed. As tends to happen with novels unfinished and published posthumously, some critics think The Love of the Last Tycoon could possibly have been Fitzgerald’s best work. I think all of his novels have great merit, and I could see the potential in this was and was frustrated as I got more and more pulled into the lives of the characters and then it abruptly stops. ARGH! (If Fitzgerald fans are anywhere near the craziness of Austen fans, there is no doubt a fan fiction or two out there that complete it. And if it’s anything like Austen fan fiction, I’d rather not read it.) Nevertheless, I really, really enjoyed reading this novel. It might not be for everyone, but if you like F. Scott Fitzgerald, it’s a definite MUST.

I find it funny that I’ve read Fitzgerald’s novels in a weird order. I started in the middle with The Great Gatsby (read in high school like probably many of you), then to his fourth novel Tender is the Night (which I may revisit this year), then the second novel The Beautiful and Damned, and now his last The Love of the Last Tycoon. All I have left is his first – This Side of Paradise! (Well, and his short stories, but I have a collection I’m slowly working through.)

AMae’s Book #25: The Short Second Life of Bree Tanner, by Stephenie Meyer

DON’T YOU JUDGE ME.

Yes, I am fueling the mania. Yes, Twilight is not the most well-written series. Yes, Edward Cullen is the most annoying male character ever on many levels. YES, I KNOW. But a girl needs some fluff every once in awhile, and Twilight makes excellent fluff. DON’T YOU JUDGE ME.

And for the sake of those who are vigilant about such things, see my review after the cut.