demerson19

If more poets wrote like Jack Ridl, more people would read poetry. Reading a collection of poems by Ridl, you feel as if you are sitting in his living room, or across the table at a bar, or roaming through a trail in the woods, just listening to him spin tales. The tales are not necessarily stories, although he does that as well. Like many great poets, Ridl tells tales which make us see exactly what he sees, but in a whole new way. I let my two dogs out every morning, but after "The Dogs' Door Is at the Far End of the House," I'll never watch them go out the same way again. Like every dog owner, he watches them trudge into the morning heat or a drift of snow, day after day."I wonder if they wonder what waitson the other side. They never complain or balk. They walk, let go, find their momentary stay against the coming day."One of elements of Rid's poetry which differentiates him from other poets, is his humility. He is not trying to save the world through his poetry. He is not even trying to understand the world through his poetry. He is trying to live in the world through his poetry. As a result of this humble approach, he does indeed bring understanding and glimpses of salvation to all that is around us.Throughout his other works, and this one is no different, Ridl also displays a welcome sense of humor. You can almost see him standing off in the corner with a wry grin on his face, watching something unfold. In "My Wife Has Sent Me An Email," we see a tender exchange of checking on the coffee supply at home and signing off with love. "I am sitting inour living room, laptop on mylap. She is sitting in her officeupstairs. We are emailing in our own home."It is not a diatribe against the inhumanity of technology. It is someone chuckling to himself over his own use of it. His humor can be more straight forward, as in "'Moose. Indian.' --The last words of Henry David Thoreau," where he rethinks what those words could be."Why not 'The cabin was coldbut I got a book out of '? Or..."My god,I kept track of everything exceptmy own pencil!'" Ridl also captures those moments which we all know, but somehow they slip away. In "The Two Chairs in the Garden," he observes"The obligatory nap has disappearedinto the light that falls after 4pm.It is timefor the sweet blue of cornflowerthe muted palette of mums. Thisis something I love: the seasonbetween season."This volume is longer than some of Ridl's other collection, and the result is a fuller picture of his art and a greater context to reflect upon his work. It is divided into four sections, one of which, "Interlude: 'Hey Skinny, the Circus is in Town'," was published separately before as a chapbook. In the midst of these other poems, they take on a new color, which is why larger collections of poems are sometimes better than the one poem standing alone. They are likes songs on the albums of yesteryear, which we listened to because they were there and required attention. Those songs could stand alone, but they take on a new sound when listened within an album. Poetry can work in the same way, and Ridl's book is stronger because of its depth. The sections reflect different ideas. The first section, "From Our House to Your House," is a return to his childhood, and especially seeking a connection with his father. In "The Enormous Mystery of Couples," he looks at relationships of different types. The final section, "The Hidden Permutations of Sorrow," focuses not simply on sorrow, but really, the hidden permutations of life.Perhaps Ridl succeeds because he writes for everyone. The opening poem is "Write to Your Unknown Friends," so Ridl brings to life many of his unknown friends. Tanya, the single mom with three kids working at the post office. Ted, who sells cars and wishes those with fins were back in style. Ann, with the best perennial garden in town, who wears a hat wherever she goes.In other words, Ridl is writing to everyone, not just other poets. He has done this throughout his career; in this volume, he excels at it.

I've read and reread Galway Kinnell's poetry over the years, and although I bring no scholar's claim to his work, I can attest to the power of his words. Kinnell's words show an honest, earthy, man who is open to the world around him.I've often used the word "earthy" to describe Kinnell's work, but I've also seen "earthly" applied. Looking for the difference, I settled on this distinction from grammarist.com. "Earthly and earthy were originally synonyms, but the adjectives have undergone differentiation over time. Today, earthly means of, relating to, or characteristic of the earth (often as opposed to heavenly or divine). Earthy means (1) plain, (2) natural, or (3) indecent or coarse."The reason I include this is that Kinnell's poetry fits both of these definitions. He certainly writes of the earthly, but he can do so in an earthy way. It is hard to walk away from Kinnell's poetry without the need to wash up, not from disgust, but from the dirt and grime he immerses you in. But it is the dirt and grime of a hard day working on a project -- it is a good feeling. Kinnell seems as if he can walk into the earth, and he does something much like this in one of his masterpieces, "The Bear." He is grounded in this world (earthly), and takes the world for what it is (earthy).This collection, The Avenue Bearing the Initial of Christ Into the New World, Poems 1953-1964, is described as follows: "This newly assembled volume draws from two books that were originally published in Galway Kinnell's first two decades of writing, WHAT A KINGDOM IT WAS (1960), which included the poem "The Avenue Bearing the Initial of Christ into the New World," and FLOWER HERDING ON MOUNT MONADNOCK (1964). Kinnell has revised some of the work in this new edition, and comments on his working method in a prefatory note."In this short, prefatory note, Kinnell explains he took out some "unsalvageable" poems, and then revised others. For him, writing is a process, so returning to these poems in 2002 (when this volume was published), he lets the process continue. There is no weeping and moaning over what was or should have been -- he makes changes he wants, and moves on. In a way, this reflects his poetry. It is unique mix of the objective and emotional. He can be moved by something in nature, describe it in an objective way, and then move forward from the experience, as opposed to pining to relieve it once again. He does not forget it, indeed he may be defined by it, but he does not get lost in it.What this collection shows is Kinnell bouncing between his New York and Vermont homes, which he did for many years. The title poem, "The Avenue Bearing the Initial of Christ Into the New World," is a 14-part poem which recreates the sights and sounds from the outset."pcheek pcheek pcheek pcheek pcheekThey cry. The motherbirds thieve the airTo appease them. A tug on the East RiverBlasts the bass-note of its passage, liftedFrom the infra-bass of the sea. A broomSwishes over the sidewalk like feet through leaves.Valerio's pushcart Ice Coal KeroseneMoves clack clack clackOn a broken wheelrim."So many visual and auditory signals in that opening verse immediately put you in the context. But the words are simple, the images clear and not overwrought. They are earthy and earthly.Throughout his work, Kinnell allows what he sees to speak for himself. He is a poet who gets out of the way of his poetry. Like the simple prose of Marilynne Robinson, Kinnell knows a simple phrase can carry a great deal of meaning. What he does in the city, works well in the country as well.First SongThen it was dusk in Illinois, the small boyAfter an afternoon of carting dungHung on the rail fence, a sapped thingWeary to crying. Dark was growing tallAnd he began to hear the pond frogs allCalling on his ear with what seemed their joy.Soon their sound was pleasant for a boyListening in the smoky dusk and the nightfallOf Illinois, and from the fields two smallBoys came bearing cornstalk violinsAnd they rubbed the cornstalk bows with resinsAnd the three sat there scraping of their joy.It was now fine music the frogs and the boysDid in the towering Illinois twilight makeAnd into dark in spite of a shoulder's acheA boy's hunched body loved out of a stalkThe first song of his happiness, and the song wokeHis heart to the darkness and into the sadness of joy.Not only does Kinnell capture a simple scene, he allows the weight of it to show -- this is not a Norman Rockwell painting, but Kinnell is also not so cynical that he cannot find joy. What this poem also shows is Kinnell's respect for children and their experiences, which does not show up as much in this volume as some of his other work. This poem also shows that Kinnell does not simply present a laundry list of ideas for the reader to interpret. He is willing to interpret and offer his view.In the second half of this volume, which is "Flower Herding On Mount Monadnock," there is a poem entitled "Spindrift," which ends with the verse:Nobody likes to dieBut an old manCan knowA gratefulnessToward time that kills him,Everything he loved was made of itIt is a strong statement for a then young poet, but one that holds true, although I would argue the man does not need to be old. Gratefulness is not necessarily a time-bound attitude, although it is difficult for some to attain.In the end, Kinnell creates that "earthy" and "earthly" poetry, which shows a world we can recognize. But through his poetry, we see more in it then we realize. It is not a forced deepening of everything we see; it is an openness to what the world has to say.

What an unusual idea. Perhaps in the midst of new Sherlock Holmes interest, Penguin decided to put out this unusual volume entitled, "The Penguin Book of Victorian Women in Crime: Forgotten Cops and Private Eyes From the Time of Sherlock Holmes." It ended up in my mail after reviewing a collection of Holmes-inspired stories. It is a collection of stories with characters I was not familiar with, by authors, of whom just a few had some name recognition for me.It is more scholarly work than one for the general reader. It is edited, and edited well, by Michael Sims, who has written a range of books, including ones touching on the offbeat works found in this collection. His introductions to the stories set strong contexts for both the stories and the authors. Most of authors are males, but several women represent their own characters in breaking new ground.A common theme in many of these stories is a woman, forced by circumstances, to enter into a male-dominated profession. Quite often, the fact that they are women, or wealthy, or educated, allow them into situations in which a male detective could not make progress. In other words, many of the authors set up situations which allow their characters to enter into an non-female world with an excuse most readers could grant. Once in that world, their success comes from their own wits. It would have been nearly unheard of to actually have women working in these roles, so their appearance in fiction precedes their appearance in reality. As Sims notes in his introduction, "Whatever the progressive sensibilities of the author, the creation of a female detective instantly provided a number of narrative possibilities that were unavailable to male heroes." The range of stories also show the development of the detective story. Some show little real investigative work at all; instead, simple clarity allows a case to unfold. Others show the detectives doing the hard work of examining crime scenes or following a suspect, even to an underground cavern.I say the work is more scholarly than a general read in that Sims includes stories which are justifiably forgotten, except by those wanting to know what was the publishing culture at that time. Mary Wilkin's "The Long Arm," has all the elements of a suspenseful plot, but the suspense is mainly missing and we wait patiently while she solves nothing -- it is a visiting male detective who does most of the work outside of the story. However, these stories are balance by some excellent entries, including two by Anna Katherine Green.This anthology will be enjoyed those with interests in the detective story, or women in literature, but it is not aimed at the general reader looking for just another good mystery.

Anne Lamott definitely stretches the boundaries of Christian writing. For that, we can thank her. Yes, she swears, says honest and unkind things (usually about herself), sometimes refers to God as Phil, and even lets slip a longing for her earlier, non-Christian lifestyle. In her most recent book, "Help, Thanks, Wow: The Three Essential Prayers," Lamott takes her earthly approach to the most holy of acts, prayer. In this short work, she talks about each of the three prayers and ends with some thoughts on "Amen." She notes at the outset that "Prayer is taking a chance that against all odds and past history, we are loved and chosen, and do not have to get it together before we show up." If other prayer books make you feel wholly inadequate to seek communion with God, Lamott will get you shouting at God without guilt. "God can handle honesty, and prayer begins as an honest conversation."Of the three prayers, her section on "Help" is the strongest. Although a short book, this could even be shortened more as the multiple of examples for one type of prayer can become tiresome. And Lamott always has a tendency to want to show people how cool she is -- she tires too hard, since her unique approach to life is clear. But perhaps she has used "Help" more than other prayers, so her words hit the mark with assurance.Calling it "the first great prayer," she says in praying for help we find "There's freedom in hitting bottom, in seeing that you won't be able to save or rescue your daughter, her spouse, his parents, or your career, relief in admitting you've reached the place of great unknowing."The theme that runs clearly through all of Lamott's writing, is the power of grace. She does not get why God would forgive her, but she is forgiven, so she accepts it. But grace does not create some sudden understanding of God, or a clear answer to our prayers in the way we want them. "Grace can be the experience of a second wind, when even though what you want is clarity and resolution, what you get is stamina and poignancy and the strength to hang on. Through the most ordinary things...life is transformed."Lamott appropriately follow up the section on "Help" with the prayer of "Thanks." More than a prayer, Lamott seeks for us to live a life of gratitude. This has the danger of sliding into banal platitudes, but Lamott refuses to lose that essential, theological language. "Thanks" is not simply what we say to God, but is seen in our actions as well. And it needs, she argues, to be a habit. The final prayer, "Wow," is not so much about words as our reaction to the divine. "Wow, is often offered with a gasp, a sharp intake of breath, when we can't think of another way to capture the sight of shocking beauty or destruction, of a sudden unbidden insight or an unexpected flash of grace." Such reactions are not limited to beautiful sunsets, but can be found in art galleries and at the sight of a natural disaster. It is the sense of awe which becomes increasingly difficult to grasp as the world manufactures more ways to confuse our senses. But sooner or later, and they are not rare events, we come to face the awe-inspiring, and we say "wow."Lamott, in her usual style, has taken a challenging topic and made it very accessible. The reader will finish feeling good about their prayer life, even if it is nonexistent. And then they will feel like they can pray if they want to. In fact, as Lamott's simple prayers show, we may be praying without even knowing it.Article first published as Book Review: Help, Thanks, Wow: The Three Essential Prayers by Anne Lamott on Blogcritics.

This novel, "The Reader," by Bernhard Schlink, has an incredible premise. A young man, Michael, learns about love from an older woman, Hanna, in Germany, not long after WW II. The relationship lasts for perhaps a year, and one of the most interesting aspects in the relationship is how he reads to the woman. It becomes a constant part of their relationship and creates a unique bond. The woman eventually leaves town so the young man can be a young man, but they come in contact again in the most unexpected way. As a law student Michael sits in on a trial of war criminals, and there is Hanna, accused of a horrible crime as a Nazi guard.I'll avoid saying more in order to preserve the plot for readers, but clearly all the elements for a range of issues are in the author's hand. How frustrating to see it fumbled in the creation of two characters who seem to lack depth. Hanna's guarded appearance makes sense, since she has a past to hide and actions to live with. But Michael is a young student with a bright future, yet seems to float on the surface his entire life. His time in law school, his marriage, and his life after his divorce, are narrated by him as if he is an objective bystander. Nothing seems to touch him in life, except for a few paragraphs where he laments how his young daughter must feel after his divorce.As the narrator, we have plenty of opportunity to get inside Michael's head, but it is his heart we are missing. As a result, the book misses the mark when it could have been great. Seeing some of these same issues taken up by a different writer would be interesting, but the hope to be challenged in our thinking is not to be found in this novel. Note that many established critics like the book, and it was named in the list of books for the year by both the New York Times and the L.A. Times. It was also made into a feature film, which I have not seen. If the film captures the emotion that Schlink misses, it could be powerful.

It is not often I stray into the world of science fiction, but my oldest son challenged me with a classic text as a Christmas present. It was a pleasant stray.Stanislaw Lem was a Polish writer, and Solaris, published in 1961, is considered by many (and I'm in no position to argue) a classic of science fiction.The novel is centered around psychologist Kris Kelvin, an expert on the planet Solaris, who visits there to study the ocean which covers the planet. He arrives to find one of his colleagues has just killed himself, the remaining two are acting strangely, and unexpected visitors are arriving. The visitors, it turns out, are created from their memories. In Kelvin's case, he suddenly finds himself spending time with his wife, who killed herself after they argued nearly 20 years before.But where do these creatures come from? It is interesting to consider that you could switch their appearance to a devilish influence and you have a horror novel. Instead, Kelvin and the others think the Solaris ocean is creating them. The ocean is a living being, and they attempt to communicate with it. Are these resurrected beings meant to curse them? Are they gifts from the ocean? Their attempts at communication are constantly frustrated, and from what others say about the book, Lem is commenting on inability of humans to communicate with non-humans. His philosophical forays lend support to this, but like much good science fiction I've read, the real skill is in looking at humanity from a new perspective.What do these appearances say about us as people? The creatures are human in nearly every respect, but Kelvin can tell that this is not his wife. Even if we can replicate the cells of our body, will we create the same person? Most interesting (but not fully explored) is the creature's growing awareness of its own existence. This creature, resembling his wife, Rheya, knows she is not who she thinks she is. She has no past, yet she has a memory. How and why did she appear suddenly on the space station? We see her struggle with her own identity, similar to how a human would, but for different reasons.It is in the raising of these questions, without attempting to answer them all, that Lem's novel works so well. He uses a science fiction premise to examine one of our most perplexing creatures -- us.

Elizabeth McCracken's novel, Niagara Falls All Over Again, is the complete package: strong plot, well developed characters, and several story lines which tie together well. There are so many ways in which this novel could have gone wrong, the fact that MckCracken pulls it off is a testament to her skill.The novel is told to us by Moses Sharp, and Midwestern Jewish boy from a small town, who grows up to be the straight man in a highly successful comedy team. From his time on the vaudeville circuit, where he meets Rocky Carter, the driving force in his life, to his retirement from the entertainment business after making countless B-grade movies, we follow Moses throughout. Moses comes from a large family of sisters, but none dearer than Hattie, with whom he plans to go into show business. When that is no longer possible, he faces the choice of taking over his father's clothing store (as expected), or heading out on his own.He heads out and McCracken gives us a wonderful look at the vaudeville circuit as it was beginning to die. The hope and despair, the bizarre acts, the ability to improvise, and the dependence on each other, all show through. We follow Carter and Sharp, who resemble Laurel and Hardy in their descriptions (although they too are mentioned in the book), as they go to Hollywood and strike it rich. Professionally. Their personal lives are a different story and they take different directions, but to avoid giving away too much, I'll leave you to the novel.While are there are many elements of the book to praise, McCracken's creation of Moses Sharp is the best. He is an intricately drawn person, especially tricky to do since he is the narrator. But he is an honest narrator and we see him for what he is -- a good man with a not always good life and not always exemplary behavior. In other words, he is real.I've praised McCracken's novel, The Giant's House, in another post. It is clear that she is a voice to not only read more of, but one we can watch for as she continues to create.

Tony Dungy is clearly a man of strong faith who works to instill his faith in his daily life. Much is made of his faith and family, but I was more interested in how he brought his faith into a secular environment. Although a football fan, I did not read the book to hear the detailed descriptions of why he chose one player or another in the draft -- I wanted to hear how his faith impacted his living. He does cover that, but could dispense with about a third of the book by only using examples that tie into his message. Still, a good, easy read and if you like to think about how you tie faith into your daily life, this is a good book to read.

In a time filled with endless movie and television interpretations of Charles Dickens' A Christmas Carol, it is easy to get confused about what the actual story says or does not say. I love all the variations, whether it be my favorite version with Alistair Sim, or Bill Murray in Scrooged, or Kermit the Frog clerking for George C. Scott. Some stay closer to the story than others, but all seek to portray the same message that Dickens created -- the choice of joy in the world.The plot line is undoubtedly familiar to most, but the written story itself is still refreshing to revisit. Yes, it as wordy as Dickens always is, but there is an excitement behind the writing which supports the theme of joy itself. Dickens seems as if he is sitting in the room telling you this story, hardly able to remain seated as he describes the feast surrounding the Ghost of Christmas Present, or the horror of the voiceless Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come. It is not a continually cheerful story -- it is a ghost story; yet the greatest horrors come in Dickens' paintings of the people suffering from want of food, shelter, or love. Scrooge is not excused from what he has created, and thus his conversion will either be dramatic or fail to occur. Of course, he is converted.It is easy to put a Christian gloss on a Christmas story, but this is not a story of Christian redemption. Scrooge does go to church on Christmas day, but that is noted in passing. Instead, we get a longer description of him pacing in front of this nephew's door working up the courage to enter. We are also privy to what is often described as a comic moment in the films, in which he meets up with one of the people who sought his assistance the day before in helping the poor. In this horrific scene Scrooge confirms that the prisons and Union workhouses are still in operation, but is told people would rather die than go there. "'If they would rather die,' said Scrooge, 'they had better do it, and decrease the surplus population." Who, then, should the reformed Scrooge meet as soon as he walks out the door on Christmas day, than one of these men."It set a pang across his heart to think how this old gentleman would look upon him when they met; but he knew what path lay straight before him, and he took it." In other words, the challenge of overcoming his past is directly presented to him, and he chooses to go straight after it.Scrooge changes because he realizes he has a choice in how to live his life, and so far he has chosen poorly. He can withdraw from the world and its demands, but be miserable, or he can embrace life and those around him. We know his choice and we see the impact it has on others. Like George Bailey, from another memorable Christmas movie, he also sees the impact his life has on others.We are here, we impact others, and we choose our path in life. Simple, but essential, lessons.

Some books seem to belong to youth and need to be reintroduced as we age. Kurt Vonnegut and Ray Bradbury were regular companions of mine in high school, yet still hold my interest 30 years later. Alas, the same cannot be said for another companion, Nobel-prize winning writer Herman Hesse.Rereading Steppenwolf after so many years, the main question I had was, how did I get through this in high school? At that time I read many of Hesse’s novels and was quiet infatuated with his outlook on life. Now, finding myself just slightly older than the protagonist, Harry Haller, aka, Steppenwolf, I just find him annoying. He is not unfamiliar; just the type of person I would not find myself sharing dinner with in a corner booth of the local cafe.The novel centers around Haller in a manuscript written by him, but left behind in the room he rented. Whatever happens to Steppenwolf in the end, we are not sure. Personally, I’m not interested in a sequel. The Steppenwolf spends his days pondering the great mysteries of life and agonizing over how he does not fit into the society in which he, apparently, does not want to fit into anyway. He obsesses over himself and tries to be humble about how brilliant he is, but he clearly he feels above most other people.Just when he decides that he can take no more and resolves to kill himself, he meets Hermine, a siren of pleasure who introduces him to other women, teaches him to dance, and shows him how to enjoy life. He suddenly finds himself becoming what he hates, but he enjoys it. In other words, he becomes a person of action, of life, rather than just thought, and he lives a more enjoyable existence. This highlights the dual nature of existence Hesse proposes; indeed, the multiple nature of existence. But in the Steppenwolf, the wolf of the Steppes, we find a man who is half human and half wolf. He can be gracious and social (human), while at the same time despising all society, including himself (wolf).At this point I had hope for the book. Our annoying narrator begins to see the fool that he is. “The late Herr Haller, gifted writer, student of Mozart and Goethe, author of essays upon the metaphysics of art, upon genius and tragedy and humanity, the melancholy hermit in a cell encumbered with books, was given over bit by bit to self-criticism and at every point was found wanting.”But no, Hesse then takes us off in a direction which quickly unravels the novel (and I’ll avoid details should you choose to read the novel).A central theme which is toyed with throughout the novel and emerges more clearly at the end is the idea of laughing at life, including yourself. Haller, the people of eternity are telling him, takes life too seriously. He needs to laugh with the world and at the world, but as a participant and not an observer. Developed in a stronger fashion this could be a fascinating theme, but when Hesse fully introduces it toward the end, it sounds simply trite. He has created of story of too much darkness to simply say you need to laugh.Many of the themes Hesse deals with seems outdated and sophomoric, but we must remember Hesse, a German, is writing this in between two world wars. Much of what we now see as tiring (e.g. mirrors looking into the soul, the lone individual against society) was more cutting edge at that time. Critics say this is his most autobiographical novel in that, like the narrator, he is coming off a bad marriage and did himself suddenly step out into society for a time. With more distance between himself and the writing, his other novels may hold up better after many years. I’m hesitant to try another one, but am open to recommendations.So I put this in my classic listing since it comes from a Nobel-prize winning writer (maybe they liked that he left Germany and became a Swiss citizen) and many people, such as myself, have immersed themselves in his work at some point in their career. But a true classic transcends time, and I do not see this novel succeeding on that count.

Jane Austen fans will lovingly quibble over which of her novels is the best. "Pride and Prejudice" is a universal favorite (and my personal choice), while "Sense and Sensibility" has a strong following behind it. But scholars often point to "Emma" as her finest work. It is her longest work and she excels at using dialogue as the vehicle for telling you the most about her characters. Seemingly unimportant conversations are essential at showing you the motives, the tenancies, the strengths, and the errors of her characters. I’ve read this book several times and now spend more time on these character-driven sections than in the past. It is truly some amazing writing.But what has held me, and perhaps others, away raising the "Emma" flag too often is, well, Emma. Austen herself famously wrote in a letter prior to starting the novel that “I am going to take a heroine whom no one but myself will much like.” I must say, I’ve always felt she hit it on the mark. Emma is a manipulative person who feels she knows what is better for everyone else than they do themselves. When her attempts at matchmaking fail, she shows temporary guilt, and then unconsciously moves on to the next matchmaking attempt. She grooms one young lady like a puppy, and then sets her up for one fall after another (unintentionally, but still!). And then (PLOT SPOILER) in the end she gets all that she wants. Clearly, if you are familiar with Austen you expect a happy ending, so that is not much of a spoiler, especially she does not figure out what she wants until near the end of the novel.Perhaps the most damaging mark against Emma comes close to the end when she makes an accurate, but hurtful, comment toward a woman who talks too much. The “Box Hill Incident” shows Emma at her worst in that she seems unaware of the influence she has on others. Only when she is taken to task by her friend, Mr. Knightly, for her comment, does she begin to understand the damage she has done. That she is unable to immediately undo the damage gives her time to consider the consequences. I’ve always felt uncomfortable with this scene because, to put it simply, it is uncomfortable. You watch helplessly as one person makes a fool of themselves and then makes it worse by her cutting remark. However, reading it this time, I was uncomfortable because it is a great shot — she is right on mark and she is funny. That line to one person may have returned with an equally adept shot, but in this case she hits a person who is defenseless in so many ways. Mr. Knightly highlights this in his censure of Emma’s actions.Which brings us to the underlying issue of class distinction found in the novel. What makes Emma’s comment so wrong is not the comment itself, but the person she hurt. It is someone beneath her social circle, someone who has seen her social stature drop, and someone who will not see it rise. She is down and Emma has kicked her.Emma should have see the fault because she is very conscious of class. But as Mr. Knightly implies, that is simply a matter of birth. While she will have advantages that others will not, that only makes it more important for her to reach out to others.Austen shows the breaking down of the social classes in the early 19th century. Wealthy tradespeople are buying property and asserting their social demands — think of it as the New York battles between “old” and “new” money seen in Edith Wharton’s novels. In "Emma" we see the blurring of these lines, especially in a small society, but the lines are still there. By the end of the novel the lines have been broken in one case, but maintained in two other relationships. Austen blesses them all with happiness.As for Emma, she is unlikable in that she is really like us. She is a flawed character. Austen does not present too many stereotypes, and, in fact, Pride and Prejudice relies on our character flaws for driving the novel forward. But Emma is more flawed, more realistic, than most of Austen’s characters. It may be that glimpse in the mirror which has driven me away from "Emma" since I first read this novel many years ago. As I get older I find I’m more comfortable acknowledging my faults. Perhaps that is why I’m now more comfortable with Emma.A final note. I read the “Annotated” version by David Shapard. This is the third of these editions I have read and I enjoy them immensely. On the left hand page is the text and on the right hand page are Shapard’s notes, which at times are reflections on the text, at times clarifications of definitions, and at times insight into time-specific elements (such as what the different carriage styles signify). For a first-time reader I would recommend focusing on Austen, but then be sure to return to one of these versions for a fresh look at a classic.

Jon Hassler is a deceptively simple writer. One can read his stories as quaint tales of a forgotten time, but just as you settle in he quietly drops in a plot twist or unexpected story. His novel, Staggerford, is an excellent introduction to his uncanny ability to create character driven stories with plot driven diversions.The book, Keepsakes and Other Stories, shows his range of interests and writing talents. The book itself is interested, being published in 1999 by the Afton Historical Society Press, a non-profit publisher focusing on work centered in Minnesota, where all these stories take place. It was Hassler's first collection of short stories, and contains works he wrote prior to his breakthrough as a novelist in 1977 (with Staggerford). The book is beautifully laid out with small illustrations in the opening paragraphs, and generous space for the text -- not a cheap, trade book with words tucked into the fold.The seven tales, although early in his career, point to themes developed in his novels. There are the rural Minnesota settings, the realistic, yet positive role of the Catholic Church (Hassler was a devout Catholic), and when you least expect it, some cold-blooded murder. The murder comes from "Yesterday's Garbage," the strongest story in the collection. Here we meet a garbage collector, and his wife who likes to read letters left in the garbage, as they find themselves in possession of some unusual knowledge. If you've been lulled into complacency by Hassler's other stories in the collection, his truly horrendous description of a murder in this story will have you rethinking the author's take on life. He later turned this story into part of his play, The Staggerford Murders.But Hassler is equally captivating his description of a forgotten rural time. His stories are no "Thomas Kinkade" paintings with words. Instead, Hassler shows the simple rural life of 50 years ago contains people who are like many of us, but also includes those whose simple life offer a generous view of humanity. The title story, "Keepsakes," along with its companion "Resident Priest," paint that glow of rural warmth, but goes deeper as the simple veneer of people break away to reveal complex individuals.Spending time with Hassler in all these stories, you realize he too is far more complex than any single story will show. I would still point a first time reader to Staggerford for an introduction, but fans should definitely find their way to this collection.

Ray Bradbury’s Fahrenheit 451 is certainly one of the most read and most debated books in our canon. Because of its straightforward plot and writing, it is a popular requirement in high schools. While I was not required to read it, like many high school students I had my “Bradbury” phase and read many of his works. But like many books, the central idea becomes detached from the novel as memories fade and is used in all types of ways that Bradbury likely never intended.It is a book on censorship. It is book on government control. It is a book about the power of books.All of that is true. What does happen when thoughts are censored and governments control what we know and do not know. What would happen in a world without books, where those ideas can no longer be debated. But really, this is a book about us. The readers. The should-be-readers. The once-upon-a-time readers. Because this is really a book not about books, but what we take from them. The books hold no value. And the people who memorize books hold no value in and of themselves. Both books and people are simply vessels in such cases. It is the ideas that are essential. And Bradbury is bemoaning a society, although set in the future, which is already at hand. How do the ideas in the books change us? When did we start to allow others to think for us?As the scholar and drifter, Granger, says at the end of the novel, “even when we had the books on hand, a long time ago, we didn’t use what we got out of them. We went right on insulting the dead.” What good are all the ideas if we simply read and do not act on them, do not allow them to challenge us, to penetrate us, to alter us. It is ironic, and Bradbury no doubt lived to see this, that his own work would likewise be distorted and misunderstood. It is not about books. It is about ideas and people and their need to interact.For those not familiar with the book, or like me have about 30 years since the last reading, a quick summary. Montag is a fireman in the not so distant future, but not a fireman we would not know. He does not put out fires, he creates them. In a world of fireproof buildings his job is to burn books (which burn at Fahrenheit 451) in a world where books are not allowed. He is 30 years old, good at this job, and should be happy in life. Of course, he is not. His wife has tried to commit suicide, a common problem at the time, and there is really no strong emotional tie to her. Most relationships at that time are bereft of emotions, which instead get channeled into interactive tv-like walls which can serve as your world. These walls appear often and hint at an early and well-placed concern about how television (and expand that out today to any number of electronics) robs people of substantive thought, making them passive bystanders in a world of their own creation.Montag meets a teenage girl who simply questions his life and thus sends him reeling. It turns out he has hidden some books away, and finally watching an older woman burn herself with her books pushes him over the edge. He seeks the hidden mysteries of the book, which brings him into conflict with his fire captain, a suspiciously well-read man for someone who burns books.To say more would be to give away too much of the ending, and this is a plot driven story which features a climatic ending. What is interesting, in today’s electronic world (and I read this on my Kindle), is how clearly implausible such a plot would be today. But the book does not suffer from age since the vehicles for reading are not as important as the ideas behind the books. Bradbury’s exploration of a life well lived in a web of relationships is not held back back by a nearly 60-year-old imagining of the future.As such, it is worth a return visit if you have not read it in many years. Or a first visit if this is all new. But do Bradbury a favor. Do not value the book. Value what you take away from it.

I started this book simply to read the Sherlock Holmes meets H.P. Lovecraft story, ” A Study in Emerald,” which was recommended to me by my oldest son. Being a fan of Holmes stories and anything Lovecraft writes, I was looking forward to Gaiman’s interpretation. Suffice it to say that I liked the story enough to work my way through Gaiman’s complete collection, which was a worthwhile endeavor.For those not familiar with Gaiman, he is a prolific writer who made his name with comic books and graphic novels (The Sandman), but has branched into novels (American Gods, Coraline) short stories, CD texts (for Tori Amos), poetry, and almost anything else which strikes his fancy. In fact, one of the more interesting parts of this collection is his introduction, in which he gives the background on every piece of writing in the book. Many of these works started from invitations, and Gaiman seems open to taking on a variety of challenges. He is not always equally successful, but you have to admire a writer who so clearly likes writing. He is not afraid of stretching and trying something new.“A Study in Emerald,” which is a play on Doyle’s “A Study in Scarlet,” finds a doctor and Holmes meeting and taking lodgings, which eventually leads to the doctor’s discovery of Holmes’ unique skill as a detective. The story steals glances at some of other Doyle’s other stories, most notably “A Scandel in Bohemia,” but with a twist of the fantastic that screams Lovecraft at you. If I’m being vague, it is my attempt not to give too much away.As noted, I continued on and found several of the works to be outstanding, while others were simply there (e.g. “Instructions” and “Fifteen Painted Cards from a Vampire Tarot”). Others are very strong. “Closing Time” incorporates the old man telling a story motif into a terrifying story of childhood. “How to Talk to Girls at Parties” is a story which takes a mundane rite of passage for many young adults and turns it subtly into a story of horror. Gaiman’s strength in this area is to hint at the possible, at would could have been, but then take it in another direction. Although at times he is clumsy in his “gotcha” endings, at other times he has a subtly which speaks of true horror mastery.Gaiman also has a sense of humor, displayed in many of the writings, but played out best in “Sunbird,” a story of epicurean club enjoying a last meal. But the highlight of the collection is “The Monarch of the Glen,” which is subtitled, “An American Gods Novella.” American Gods is an excellent novel, and in this story Gaiman builds on the main character, Shadow. The story falters a bit as it hits a graphic section and Gaiman does provide another “gotcha” moment near the end, but overall it quietly builds a scenario with a reluctant protagonist who is as familiar with his weaknesses as his strengths. In fact, his ability to recognize his limits is his greatest strength and allows him to outsmart those who believe they have outsmarted him.The collection contains 31 stories, poems, and “other wonders,” so one will be hard pressed to like it all or dismiss it all. But is worth keeping nearby when a quick read is all that is available.

Sherlock Holmes fans are a bit like Jane Austen fans. While holding a great reverence for the original works, they are always open to a bit of playing with characters, or storylines, or just about anything related to their favorite author. While Doyle left behind 56 short stories and 4 novels about Holmes, all told it is an easy collection to read, as is Austen. Thus, perhaps, the longing for just a bit more.Laurie King and Leslie Klinger take a decidedly different approach to the Holmesian legacy with A Study in Sherlock, which is subtitled “Stories Inspired by the Holmes Canon.” Inspired is the important word in this collection of stories edited by King and Klinger. The 17 stories ranges from plays on canonized stories such as “The Man with the Twisted Lip,” retold as a ruse on Holmes in “The Men with the Twisted Lips,” to a graphic novel, a twitter interview, and straight up mystery stories.The authors include many legendary names from the mystery world, including S.J. Rozan, Laura Lippman, Jan Burke, and Thomas Perry. Colin Cotterill provides the graphic novel, which tells of his adventures in attempting to write a story inspired by Holmes since he has never read nor intends to read any of this stories. Neil Gaiman makes an appearance with one of the strongest stories in the collection, “The Case of Death and Honey.” While best know for his own graphic novels and other writings, Gaiman is a life-long fan of Holmes and a member of the selective Baker Street Irregulars.In the end, the most enjoyable stories are those which take Holmes methods and apply them in other situations. The opening story, Alan Bradley’s “You’d Better Go in Disguise,” involves Holmes himself and captures his spirit, although the setting is different as walk into the midst of a story. Lionel Chetwynd’s “The Shadow Not Cast” gives us a Holmesian like soldier called on by the police when they are out of options. The story mirrors the at times complex plots which unfolded from Doyle’s pen, although in a completely modern setting.The overall impact of the collection is one which clearly enjoys playing in the Holmesian world, while not mocking the original source. Readers will also be introduced to several great writers and are certain to leave the work heading off in search of more writings by the authors of some of the stories. Reading begetting read — the sure sign of a good book.

The Unlikely Pilgrimage of Harold Fry starts with a wonderful premise. Harold Fry, a man retired from work, life, and love, receives a letter from an old friend. She is dying of cancer and wants to say goodbye, which she does in the letter. Harold writes a short response back, but when arriving at a post office box to mail it he passes along and starts walking. Eventually it is a walk which takes weeks as he becomes convinced his friend Queenie will stay alive as long as he is walking toward her.The walk gives Harold and his wife left at home plenty of time to consider many things. How did they live their lives, what is their relationship with their son, what is their relationship to each other? Do they love each other? What happened to the romance which bloomed early in their marriage? While the book focuses on Harold's walk, the reader is watching his wife Maureen's reaction as much as Harold's musings.The absurdity of the walk is one of the reasons it attracts us. Harold is not a walker before this. He is not even in shape and he is not young. He does not love nature and he does love his comforts. Yet he embarks on the walk with no clear intention, no supplies, and a pair of yachting shoes to complete several hundred miles of walking. Along the way he meets a host of characters who serve as foils to his thinking, thus pushing him forward physically and emotionally. It is in his reflections that author Rachel Joyce teeters on the cliff of "the obvious." Just how many more things is Harold going to reflect on from his past? But just when it becomes too much, a new group of characters emerges as Harold is joined in a now public pilgrimage. Joyce has a keen eye for the public and excels as she creates a cast of characters which are all too realistic next to Harold's quasi-spiritual pilgrimage. While everyone else wants to saint him we begin to see him in a new light -- a light which shows his human failings while only making him more endearing to the reader.In other words, Joyce has created a work in the epic tradition of the quest. From the outset of literature no theme has been more prevalent. From the Odyssey to Huckleberry Finn to to Marilynn Robinson's Gilead, the quest for something more is a reflection of a human longing. Joyce has created a character we admire because in part we want to be him. We want to seek out on a new journey with only our wits to save us (gasp--he does not even have his cell phone). We want to meet physical, emotional, and spiritual dilemmas and push through them. We want to be challenged and then succeed beyond our own expectations. Like any good quest, the Harold Fry we meet at the outset of the novel is not the Harold Fry we goodbye to at the end. Much of what happens or is revealed toward the end of the book alters your perception of what has occurred, so I'll resist any temptation to spoil the plot for you. If the book has any success you can count on a movie. Joyce is a playwright for the BBC and much of the book could be dropped on screen as is. This is not a critique of it since as a novel, it still works.