This blog has been in limbo for several years. I started it originally as a companion to my search for a literary agent to publish a book I wrote when I was 26. It’s been 10 years since. I’m aghast and horrified! However, I’d like to get back to that. I think I’ll focus on posting on books for a while to get my feet wet once more on a topic I’m over-familiar and comfortable with (I’ll get back to grammatical correctness eventually).
A friend and I started a book club two years ago. We were a 2-person book club (so hipster). My book club is called Blunt Objects & A Club. Isn’t it clever? It’s a bit self-deprecatory and an allusion to murder mysteries…and the fact that we are a book club. Clever, right? Well, I thought it was.The group has grown since and it meet about four or five times a year. Sometimes we read two books before our next meet. As a result, my Goodreads reading challenge gets padded out pretty well, because I read from my personal stash, too.
This quarter’s books were The Eyre Affair by Jasper Fforde and Rebecca by Daphne Du Maurier. I won’t write any involved reviews because I’m not an accomplished reviewist (well, it should be a word!) and I would simply confuse, or irritate you. I will, however, tell you about much, or how little, I enjoyed each book.
a1: The Eyre Affair
If this book were a person, it would be dressed in a black Star Wars t-shirt, quote lines from movies continuously, go to movies by itself (because no one else appreciates its taste) and use chopsticks for any cuisine at home. In a word…well, we’ll be nice. We won’t go into the individual characteristics and their value of this “person”, we will simply add them all up and come to the conclusion that this many eccentric qualities rolled into one entity makes for a very awkward interaction. I did not make friends with this book.
There were trippy moments that were very cool. There were surreal moments that made me question my memory of classic literature. Then there was a bit of page flipping, estimating how long it would take to finish the book, wondering if this was a series and if the others were written the same way and wondering if perhaps I just wasn’t smart enough for this book. I truly wanted to love this book. I loved the back cover synopsis, I loved the heroine’s name (Thursday Next), I loved the premise (literary espionage), but I just couldn’t. The end.
b2: Rebecca by Daphne Du Maurier
This is a copy-pasted impression that I posted on goodreads.com “Re-reading this 20 years or so after I did as a teenager showed an interesting shift of my mindset. Originally, my sympathies lay with the young, naive heroine who was utterly bewildered by the worldliness of her employer and Maxim de Winter. The whirlwind “romance” was more “whirlwind” than “romance” and I could easily empathize with the the urge to go along with anything as long as the leader was older and obviously wiser, and therefore must be right in all things. The knowledge that the heroine knows she loves Maxim de Winter despite not knowing him much at all and being the brunt of his occasional bouts of impatience and irritation went right along with my young, immature heart of 16 years old.
Now, in my old, old, retiring years of 36, I simply pity the young thing and want to tell her to run away, there’s no good for her here. I’m more likely to understand the gray areas of life that cause Mrs. Danvers’ sinister, but unstable loyalty to the original Mrs de Winter. I’m more likely to understand Maxim’s reasons for silence, anger, impatience, mysteriousness and the ultimate resolution to the awfulness of his marriage. At age 16, the new Mrs. de Winter represented life’s new adventures ahead. Now, at age 36, Manderley represents the complexities of Life. I appreciate this book and it’s ability to make one continue to learn about oneself”
Eh, not well-written, or even well-thought out, but I have twins and I can blame them for any short-coming any time I’d like.
Until the next post,