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 Communist China’s Long March is famed throughout the country. Children, like the author Sun Shuyun, are taught the story over and over again in school and there are plays and films about it. The author decides to do her own version of the Long March, following in the footsteps of the Red Army and visiting the few remaining veterans along the route, with some diversions for research purposes. Through her journey, she attempts to uncover the truth of what these people endured, and of the Long March itself.
Recently, and somewhat unexpectedly, I have become very interested in China, and this book seemed like a good choice to continue with non-fiction. And it was; I liked it and I learned a surprising amount about The Long March. The author’s experience on her own Long March took a definite backseat to her exploration of the experiences of those she met and her explanations of the historical background. I was pleased with that because this could easily have become about how difficult the trip was for the author, given that it was, but she often emphasized the fact that if she was struggling, how much harder must it have been walking the whole time with threadbare clothes, no food, and no help?
I was most interested in the veterans’ stories, and how even though almost all of them endured horrifying hardships and were later targeted during the Cultural Revolution, most of them were still devoted Communists. I found this hard to believe, given all they suffered in the name of communism, and did wonder if they were genuine, but it’s impossible not to admire their devotion, courage, and resilience, so it’s hard to come out of the book without feeling the same. I felt like each of them were individuals and their stories were each fascinating and sometimes just horrifying. The women’s stories in particular were so affecting and hard to read.
What came out clearly was how difficult the Long March was, and the author did find a kind of truth in comparing the words of the survivors with official records. As she says, definitive answers are hard because documentation was destroyed, and Mao’s version of the Long March has become Chinese history. This is disturbing to me and I was glad she was driven to reveal some of the truth. The author’s surprise at her discoveries is palpable throughout the book. At one point she sees a filmmaker who is also interviewing people about this subject, and he quite blatantly tells her what they’ll have to cut out because it doesn’t fit the official version, even if the stories are true.
Overall, I found The Long March a really fascinating memoir/historical investigation. I would definitely recommend it to those who are interested in learning more about Chinese history.
I am an Amazon Associate. I borrowed this book from my local library.
 Four days in, I have finished my first classic for Classics Month!
Peaceful Barchester is thrown into turmoil when the state of affairs at the warden’s hospital is called into question. Several hundred years before, a notable aristocrat made provision for unfit working men in his will, that a hospital be built for them and a warden appointed to oversee them. Since then, however, the land from which the hospital derives its funds has grown in profits, and one man, John Bold, decides that the warden, kindly Mr. Harding, is earning far too much money. He and the majority of the 12 hospital patients sign a petition and take the matter to Parliament, but hadn’t counted on the warden’s reaction to their protest.
This was quite an interesting book. I’d heard before that it wasn’t as good as later books in the Chronicles of Barsetshire series, but I found a lot to like about it. Almost immediately I knew I liked the way Trollope wrote, so almost as soon as I began I knew that I’d have no problems there. Trollope is a talented writer and it’s easy to sink into his story. The characters are well-drawn and opinionated, and I found myself hoping that they would show up in the later books of the series.
The book demonstrates the strangeness of Victorian society, particularly with the warden’s son-in-law, Archdeacon Grantly, who is a firm man in public but in private is ruled by his wife. She is obviously wise and intelligent in many ways, and he often takes her advice to heart, but in public she sits quietly by his side, letting him talk about the conclusions they come to together. Trollope lightly mocks this situation and I liked that he was giving voice to the women, even if they weren’t given a voice in society itself.
 There is a very strong ideological underpinning behind the story of this novel. Dr. Bold intends to do good by giving the men their extra £100 per year, rather than having the warden receive all the funds. But the men don’t really need £100 extra per year; apparently all their needs are satisfied by the hospital, and because he was aware that there was a question before he took the wardenship, Mr. Harding had already given them slightly extra out of his own allotment, which no other warden had done before. The men were perfectly happy before they realized that they were owed this money, but their desire for it slowly destroys all that they had previously enjoyed. Trollope criticizes the newspaper scandals of the day by damaging the characters with them and questions whether something that seems morally right is always the right choice when considering the feelings and situation of the people in question. This is especially so given Mr. Harding’s choices, as he has to decide whether or not to continue doing something that is now regarded as wrong by almost everyone he knows, and quite a bit of the book is dedicated to his own moral dilemma. Trollope doesn’t explicitly mark any of the characters out as right or wrong, but rather allows the reader to draw his/her own conclusions about who is right and who is wrong, or whether it’s really that concrete in the first place.
The Warden was a fascinating little book. I’m really looking forward to reading more by Anthony Trollope. I would definitely suggest this if you have an interest in Victorian society.
I am an Amazon Associate. I borrowed this book from my local library.
 Matilda’s small island of Bougainville is at war. The redskins are invaders and many of the young men from her village are engaged in fighting them; she lives her life constantly tense and alert, deprived of many of the privileges she experienced in her youth. There is no electricity, no running water, no schools, and the villagers must live off the land. There is just one white man left in the village, and eventually he takes initiative and starts a school. His teaching consists mainly of reading Great Expectations aloud to the class, and Matilda for the first time discovers the power of literature.
For the most part, I really enjoyed this book. I absolutely loved when the teacher, Mr Watts, began reading Great Expectations. It was just magical to see Matilda learn about stepping outside of her life for the first time, and she remarks that she feels like she knows Pip and is completely bound up in his story. She felt like a kindred spirit after that. The book started out so charming. The war parts, however, made me distinctly uncomfortable and sad, as one might expect, so the book was certainly not all a joy, and it’s hard to say I enjoy people being hacked into pieces. It all seems to happen very abruptly, especially when I realized that the author was trying to convey a message about morality. He asks us to consider what a good person is and what a good person does, and the result was quite shocking and upsetting.
I much preferred the parts on the island to the end of the book, but I appreciated that too. I can understand why Mister Pip was shortlisted for the Booker prize. It’s such a compelling tale about the power of story and really looks at the consequences of our actions, the horror of war, and simple goodness. I was really surprised by what I got out of this slim volume, and I definitely recommend it.
I am an Amazon Associate. I borrowed this book from my local library.
 It’s with great pleasure that I bring to you one of my favorite authors, Edith Wharton, for my turn on the Classics Circuit!
Undine Spragg manages to convince her parents to move from Apex to New York City, where she’s hoping to make a brilliant entrance into society with a rich husband. Undine is a deadly combination of beautiful, selfish, and ignorant, capable of turning herself into what almost any man desires the most. She is horribly spoiled and incapable of understanding the consequences of her actions, but they are all too clear to the reader as she storms through the lives of people who wish to believe better of her.
Undine is one nasty character. I couldn’t believe how selfish she was. And Wharton doesn’t pull her punches, she lets us feel the impact that Undine has by focusing on several other characters whose lives she irrevocably changes, damages, or destroys. One of the most heartbreaking passages occurs at the end and I could really see how much damage she’d done, and how much more she wanted to do.
I thought it was interesting, though, that she can be seen as completely a product of her society. Even though her father originally was poor and became rich when she was a child, she was never denied anything, and thus sees no reason to ever be denied anything. Her first society husband is forced to work at a career he hates and is bad at to support her extravagances even though she also receives an allowance from her father, and she still complains that he isn’t getting enough. But he never tells her about his hardships, just like her father never told her where the money came from, so she still doesn’t seem to understand. At times, she reminded me of a beautiful, vapid child, incapable of truly understanding the world in which she lives. She doesn’t seem to realize that she’s hurting people. She focuses constantly on the injustice done to her and on the jealousy she feels towards other women who she sees as having more. She has an education, but it seems to have taught her absolutely nothing. I had to wonder if Wharton saw society women as children given that she chose to portray this woman so much like one.
And so Undine leaves male carnage in her wake as she moves on to the next husband and the next husband. I despised her and felt bad for her husbands and child even as I was fascinated by what she’d do next. As usual I loved the portrait of society through Undine, and all the people wasting their time with niceties and social frivolity and missing out on the big picture. I especially felt for Undine’s first husband, Ralph, who sees her as something pure and different and malleable, only to realize that Undine wanted to mold herself after the people he found to be fakes. He seemed to get to the core of the society in which he could not flourish because he recognized how superficial it all was. He sees the cracks, and through him, Undine’s other husbands, and through despising Undine, I could see the cracks too.
While this isn’t toppling The Age of Innocence from its throne as my favorite Wharton (nor Ethan Frome from #2 slot and yes, I do have a hierarchy, is that odd?), I’m definitely glad I read it. The Custom of the Country was such an interesting book and it made me think about relations between men and women, how they were, and how they’ve changed.
I like the mini review format so much that I’m going to use it for a lot of my romance reading. In general, I don’t have enough to say about these books to generate a full review, and I like to clear out my review backlog, so I’ll be posting a set of four mini reviews every time I’ve finished four books!
 To Wed a Wicked Prince, Jane Feather
Prince Alex Prokov is an intriguing, compelling man and captivates Lady Livia Lacey from their very first meeting. What she doesn’t realize is that he is foremost intending to inspect her house, legally his because the eccentric woman who left it to Livia was his mother, and claim it if necessary. He finds Livia interesting enough to marry her instead, but their relationship is a minefield of secrets and half-truths. Will their love sustain them through Alex’s lies?
I was less than enchanted with this book. I liked the atmosphere, but Alex’s lies drove me up the wall. I could see that if he’d only told Livia the truth, practically all the bad things that happen to them in the novel would have been solved. I could see why he’d kept secrets about his activities, but about his mother’s identity? Not so much. Furthermore, he is very domineering, even wishing to get rid of Livia’s faithful servants despite the fact that they were first his mother’s. He’s just so hard to relate to and in the end I couldn’t figure out why Livia loved him. I did like her character, though, as I really like the more independent heroines as non-historical as they may be. Overall, this book was “eh” for me. Not a compelling plot, some irritating characters, and not enough genuine historical detail or good writing to override its faults.
 Compromised, Kate Noble
I’ve been looking forward to Kate Noble’s books for a good long time, ever since I heard about her on The Book Smugglers. In this, her debut, the Alton sisters have just returned from the Continent, new stepmother in tow, and it’s time for their first Season. Bookish Gail has no interest in a Season, however, and as an attempt to placate her, her father gives her a horse. That horse leads her to a gentleman, Maximillian, Viscount Fontaine, with whom she ends up in a lake, and who absolutely infuriates her. Things don’t get much better when that man is found in a compromising position with her sister – and they get worse when Gail starts to fall in love with him and vice versa.
I definitely had fun with this book. Gail’s interactions with Max sparkle and I could totally believe that they loved one another by the end. And I felt like they really knew each other before they hopped into bed, which is pretty much the standard by which I judge romances, especially historical ones. I like to read about love, not just lust. Anyway, probably the only thing that irritated me here was that Gail is quite a stereotype. There are so many books with the bookish heroine who shuns society, who doesn’t think she’s pretty, blah blah. She does get along with people eventually because she has issues, she’s not shy, but I don’t understand why a heroine can’t be bookish and still like to spend time with people occasionally right off the bat. I will also confess that I was largely drawn to this book by the cover, which is refreshingly not sexual and has the prettiest yellow dress on it. I’m not shallow at all, no.
 Crazy for You, Jennifer Crusie
When Quinn McKenzie meets a little dog she names Katie, she decides her life has to change. She’s gone along with everything her too nice boyfriend wants, with what her parents want, and has generally been the fixer of the family. She’s bored of her life and she’s had enough. When her boyfriend sends the puppy to the pound, she decides to leave him, and begins encouraging everyone to make little changes to make their lives better. She has no idea what she’s about to inflict on her family and friends.
I suspect all of Crusie’s novels are this delightful. While this has a similar premise to Welcome to Temptation, the other book by her that I read, it’s still totally charming. I loved Quinn and I was 100% behind her. Any guy who takes a puppy to be killed when his girlfriend has fallen in love with it probably deserves to be dumped. And after that boyfriend’s further behavior, I completely sympathized with her. I really enjoyed the love story and all the little tangents that followed, too. I can’t wait to read more of Crusie’s books. I hope they’re all this fun.
 Miss Wonderful, Loretta Chase
Alistair Carsington took great pleasure in falling love with women before he was involved in the Battle of Waterloo, where he nearly lost his life. Since his return, he has become obsessed with clothes to the detriment of everything else. Seeking activity and income, Alistair joins his friend’s scheme to build a canal through Derbyshire, and heads there to persuade the locals of the brilliance of his plan. Miss Mirabel Oldridge, practically on the shelf, is fiercely resistant of a canal cutting its way through her land, but soon she and Alistair realize they’re not particularly good at resisting each other.
This book wasn’t very memorable – I read it yesterday and I’ve already forgotten most of it. It struck me as a fairly typical romance. I liked that Mirabel was older and independent and had had a past with another man. I’d call it an enjoyable read but not much else.
As I just skimmed this post (which I put together over maybe a month), I realized that none of the covers are your typical half-naked embrace. I know British covers are way, way more conservative in this regard, but it doesn’t explain the two American ones. I am really, really tired of the endless parade of half-naked men and women on romance covers, and apparently I am showing my resistance by choosing books that don’t have it.
I am an Amazon Associate. I purchased these books or borrowed them from my local library.
 This graphic memoir depicts the childhood of Marjane Satrapi during and after the Islamic Revolution in Iran. She remembers when she first was required to wear a headscarf, when school changed, when she learned the danger of protesting, among many other things in a rapidly changing world. Interspersed with the severity of the revolution is the fact that the author was definitely a child; she was jealous of other people’s fathers because they’d been in prison and become “heroes” with cool stories, for example, and she decides that she wants to be a prophet. With simply drawn black-and-white pictures, this memoir successfully reminds us that people in Iran are still people like us, only living in far different circumstances.
I loved The House of the Mosque, which I read last week, and then Dawn at She is Too Fond of Books recommended this one in a review, and Andrea at Canongate Books left me a comment saying she had this one as well. I’d heard of it before, but this all just seemed like huge incentive to read it now. So naturally, I went to the library and took it out immediately, and it’s so short that I managed to read it the same day.
I really enjoyed it. I felt like Persepolis dealt with tough issues but had that human touch throughout. I appreciated the author’s mission to show us that Iran is more than terrorism and weapons, it’s an ancient culture with real people. It certainly has problems now, but there’s no reason to forget its past and the fact that all the people who live there are not exactly thrilled with their own government. The author, for example, is thrilled when her parents smuggle her modern posters, clothes, and a Michael Jackson button, only for her to get in trouble when women who are more committed to the new government see her in her new jeans and jacket.
I even liked the black-and-white drawings. They’re quite simplistic but Satrapi shows individuality with small touches and conveys emotion with them quite effectively. There is some violence depicted, but it’s not realistic enough to bother anyone, just enough to show that it must have been horrible.
Overall, Persepolis is a book I’d definitely recommend. It’s a fast and even enjoyable read that really touches on important – even essential – issues about the world today. I’m definitely interested in reading its sequel and hope my library has that one, too.
I am an Amazon Associate. I borrowed this book from my local library.
 The Morland family has survived the Wars of the Roses to see the Tudors take the throne of England. French Paul, the great grandson of the founders of the dynasty, now runs the Morland properties, but struggles with jealousy of his half-siblings and dislike of his wife. Only his mistress in the city of York brings him happiness, but she also brings strife within his family. Meanwhile, Paul’s niece Nanette becomes a beloved maid to Anne Boleyn, witnessing first hand the conflict and drama inherent in the Tudor court.
This second volume in the Morland dynasty may mark my abrupt end of reading the series. This is just far too romanticized a version of history for me. Most historical fiction does it to some extent, but this goes a little too far. It’s like a story you would tell a small child, rather than an attempt to actually imagine history as it might have been, at least as far as I’m concerned. When Nanette has witnessed the many murders of Henry VIII, including that of her friend Anne Boleyn, and still manages to see these murders as something that just had to happen and doesn’t fault him at all for it, I just have to take exception to that. Yet the characters that don’t appear are purely villainized, like Henry’s next wife Jane Seymour, who is called something like the honey scorpion.
The author clearly attempts to have characters with multiple sides to them. Paul’s bastard son is one such, as the author makes him a love-starved boy that finally seeks vengeance on the father who never gave him what he needed. Despite that, everything just feels painted with a rosy brush. Of course Adrian would have been a good man if he’d been given love. Of course the council would never do anything evil, even though clearly the king would never do anything evil either. There is incest in here that made me distinctly uncomfortable, but no one seems to mind when an uncle marries his niece, even though the characters mention the difficulty they might have with it.
The entire series has a nice dynastic feel that I like, but overall I feel like I’m reading a fairy tale that has little to do with actual history. For that reason, I’m unsure if I’ll continue. The Dark Rose was entertaining, but I think I’d rather spend my time reading something with a historical feel instead of a rosy “oh-wasn’t-the-past-great” one.
I am an Amazon Associate. I borrowed this book from my local library.
 As a young Norseman, it is Eyvind’s ultimate dream to become a Wolfskin, a warrior dedicated to Thor, his life sworn to do the warrior god’s bidding. As a strong, tall boy, with his older brother a Wolfskin, no one doubts that Eyvind’s dream will come true. One summer, Eyvind’s brother brings a boy, the younger brother of one of his friends, and asks Eyvind to make him more of a man. Reluctantly, Eyvind takes this small, strange boy under his wing, teaching him what he knows as he is startled by Somerled’s goals and questions. Eyvind is so unsettled by Somerled, and so pitying towards the friendless boy, that he even makes an oath of brotherhood to him, sworn in blood. The disastrous consequences of that oath only become clear on a journey to the Orkney islands, when Somerled’s ambition takes over and Eyvind must fight in a completely new way to save a woman he loves and her culture.
Readers of this blog will surely know that Juliet Marillier is one of my very favorite authors. This is one of her earlier works and I think lacks something of the polish that she’s acquired over the past few years, but I still loved it.
The beginning of the book was a bit slow and perhaps put me off initially racing through it like I had intended. The relationship between Eyvind and Somerled is complex and often frustrating; as a reader I wanted to hit Somerled and even Eyvind when he didn’t seem to see the truth of things. Moreover, the back cover told me that they were going to set off on a voyage, and I basically wanted them to go. Once they did, I felt the story really started, but also discovered that the slow beginning and building of Somerled’s character is really what made the rest of the book rich, understandable, and fascinating. Somerled is clearly the villain here, but he is also a multi-faceted character that reveals different aspects of himself to different people. His relationship with Eyvind is the only way to see what really goes on in his mind.
As ever with Juliet Marillier, I also fell hard for the love story. She always weaves them seamlessly into a larger plot, giving me virtually everything I want from a big fantasy novel. Eyvind doesn’t only fall in love. He also deals with the reality of his life as a warrior, betrayal by his best friend, and learns strength that he didn’t realize he had. He makes shifts in his thinking and develops as a character remarkably. Marillier has a wonderful touch with these developments and with character relations. She hasn’t let me down here. The plot feels as though it moves very quickly through the last three hundred pages, but it’s all woven up with precision and beauty. This one lacks the fairy tale feel of much of her other work, but doesn’t fail to be a great story.
Wolfskin was a lovely historical fantasy that I can definitely recommend. I’m very much looking forward to Foxmask, which picks up with the children of some of these characters some years on.
I am an Amazon Associate. I borrowed this book from my local library.
 Today is my very first Classics Circuit tour review. I’m loving all these posts, and have been very excited to host Elizabeth Gaskell on my blog today. I’ve read and enjoyed three books by her, and today I’m featuring Ruth, a book to which I had a very different reaction.
When Ruth Hilton’s parents died, she was left one of many apprentices to a seamstress by her guardian, a man she only ever saw once. Ruth, who is beautiful and kind, cannot help remembering and missing her parents, not to mention her country rambles and freedom. When she gets to attend a ball as an amateur maid, she meets Mr Bellingham, a gentleman who is compelled by her beauty and asks her to call him friend. Ruth’s inexperience with the world means that she accepts his friendship and somehow finds herself becoming his mistress. His mother disapproves, and when Mr Bellingham falls ill, she seizes her opportunity and Ruth is left alone and pregnant in a Victorian world that is almost unbearably harsh on fallen women.
I am of two minds on Ruth. The first is that I admire Gaskell’s plan for her novel. She sets out to in a sense rescue the virtuous, repenting fallen woman from her sin. The double standard in nineteenth century England was far more damaging and prevalent than it is today, when it seems impossible that anyone could really hate a woman simply because she was with a man before they were married, let alone torment the poor illegitimate child based on something that was not his or her fault. I enjoyed the social commentary that this novel certainly was, and I went into it knowing that in its time Ruth had had a surprisingly strong welcome. I knew it was exposing a crack in a changing society and in that way it was very interesting for me.
As a story, however, it wasn’t the most compelling book I’ve ever read, and I actually hope it will become increasingly less relevant as the double standard for men and women in terms of sexual activity fades away. Most of the book really seems centered on the idea that Ruth is a perfect, virtuous woman and mother. Had her parents lived longer and educated her on the dangers of men, it’s implied that she might have suspected what was coming when she went to London with Mr Bellingham, but as it was she’s completely blameless, not even realizing what she’s done until she is mocked on the street in Wales after she’d been living in sin for a while. This also seems strange because her son, much younger than she was at the time of her folly, cannot have experienced the same level of education yet but is fully cognizant of Ruth’s mistake and what it means for him. Things don’t add up. I think the book would have been vastly more interesting had Ruth been fully aware of what she was doing, rather than seeming just a victim of a harsh society and an opportunist gentleman.
In other words, Ruth is just too perfect, and perfect in a very Victorian way, for a modern reader to sympathize with. I even wound up liking Jemima Bradshaw better, despite the fact that she’s rich, sulky, and is jealous of a poor woman, simply because she has more layers as a character and actually believably repents of her negative emotions by the end of the novel, albeit after she is in a position of security. I admire the fact that Gaskell was showing how a woman could make a mistake and still remain the woman she was before, that premarital sex didn’t make a woman into a despicable immoral creature, but Ruth did little else for me.
For a classic, however, this is a very easy read, and my edition was under 400 pages. Things seem to move along at a brisk pace for the most part and it’s an interesting look at a society that has gone but still leaves its mark on our lives. Regardless, I think I’d recommend North and South or Cranford above Ruth, if one is trying out Gaskell for the first time.
I am an Amazon Associate. I borrowed this book from my local library.
 Even though he lives in a world where happiness – and mindlessness – is the central focus, Bernard Marx is unhappy. Because he was born an intelligent alpha, but has the physical stature of a much lower-classed citizen, he has never been the focus for women, has often been mocked, and finds himself discontented with everything around him. He decides to go to New Mexico, where he can meet savages, people who exist as they did before the World Controllers took over. Perhaps the people he discovers there will teach him to be happy and cure him of his mindless existence.
I’m a big fan of dystopias like this. I loved The Handmaid’s Tale by Margaret Atwood and 1984 by George Orwell, among others. I didn’t have the exact same reaction to this book, and I found my answer in the introduction.
This world is eerily creepy; genetic engineering is certainly better than it was when Huxley was writing, and so his opening sequence, where guests are taken through a child-making factory as the embryos are divided and conformed to certain expectations, then brainwashed to love their status in life, is extraordinarily effective. I had a lot of hope for the rest of the book as I was reading it, but almost as soon as we were introduced to the characters, my hopes virtually fizzled.
For one thing, Huxley hasn’t decided whether or not it’s capitalism or communism that is horrible, and this is what the introduction clarified for me. Neither of the two theories portrayed in the book is highlighted as more prominent or more satisfying. Both existences are virtually meaningless, and so rather than making me worried about the future of the world, I just ended up conflicted and dissatisfied with what has been created here.
Worse, I didn’t have anyone to root for. The characters wind up unhappy wherever they are. The worst part is when Bernard comes back from the reservation and becomes totally content; in other words, he’s just shallow. He doesn’t have any real dispute with his world except that a mistake meant he didn’t fit in properly. So there is no real focal point for the reader to target, no one to sympathize with and hope for their escape. As a result, the world, which could have been so affecting, falls totally flat.
As a result, I definitely didn’t like Brave New World as much as I’d hoped. I’m glad I borrowed it from the library and didn’t spend money on it. I am an Amazon Associate.
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