|
|
 How often do you think about whether what you’re eating is food or science? So much of our nutrition is now supplied by processed food that it’s hard to tell; even bread isn’t reliable because it’s got so many additives in it. While nutrients are constantly labeled “good” or “bad” by the authorities that matter – too much saturated fat, too much trans fat, not enough omega 3 – Michael Pollan chooses to stand up in defense of food, real food, and argue that if we stuck a little closer to what nature intended, we’d be much better off than by following the dictates of the latest fad diet.
While I don’t think this book supplied me with too much information that was entirely new, it definitely combined it in a way that opened my eyes to some of the problems with our eating. I try when I can to buy local and fresh, but do find myself giving in to the temptation to get something ready made because it’s a lot easier. This book has definitely made me reconsider signing up for a local box scheme – where you get a box of fresh local vegetables each week – and think about cooking more from scratch like I used to, back in those days when I had time. (Let’s hope Jamie Oliver’s 30 minute meals do the job – a review of that will be coming soon too!)
Anyway, on to the book itself. Pollan starts out with guidelines. Eat food. Mostly plants. Not too much. Doesn’t sound hard, right? He then goes and explains how, surprisingly, it is difficult. He demonstrates the fact that nutrition guidelines these days are driven by profits, not by actual consideration of public health – science makes discoveries, but the big food companies can easily turn them around and soften them so no one pays attention. The first processed food to really catch on, of course, was margarine, and even now the vegetable spread blends aren’t far from shelves and mouths even if they’re not allowed to be called margarine any longer.
Now everything’s being processed in an effort to make more money and produce more food. Pollan explains the history, also including the fact that we’ve known for decades that a mostly plant-based diet is good for us. He shows how our food intake, which should be rich and varied, has been reduced to four main things – corn, soya, wheat, and rice. Most of us eat some other veggies too, but not in nearly enough amounts, and our diets are mainly full of those things plus meat which has also been fed corn instead of grass. He also goes on to show how science hasn’t really explained why vegetables are so healthy; aside from knowing that they’re fantastic for us, no one can explain just why or make something that does the same job. But there’s no marketing vehicle behind carrots or tomatoes, so they don’t tend to get much attention, and it’s Pollan’s aim to reverse that. After all, people who eat their native diets, no matter the content of them, suffer far less from cancer, diabetes and heart disease than those who eat a Western processed diet; shouldn’t we try and compromise to achieve better health for all? We may not be hunter gatherers, but we can try a little bit harder, and Pollan argues that our generation finally can.
With that in mind, Pollan lays out a few guidelines. My favourite was not to buy anything with more than five ingredients. This is impossible to avoid if you eat anything that comes in a package! It’s my new mission, however, to try and minimise what we are eating out of packets and make fresh food instead. And if I do buy a package, I need to make sure I actually recognise what’s in there and don’t purchase lab experiments.
I’d highly recommend In Defence of Food to anyone looking to improve their eating, to have a little peek into the history of the food industry and be inspired to make a change. It’s not a perfect book, he slips into the “nutritionisms” that he is so against at times, but he does explain everything in a way that makes sense and appeals to my own instincts. This is a book well worth reading – it’s not a diet, it’s logic that should make sense to all.
I am an Amazon Associate. I purchased this book.
2010 wasn’t a good year for challenges. I can say that already. I don’t think I’ve failed my own challenge – I’ve read lots of medieval stuff – but I haven’t come close to reading the books I listed at the beginning. I probably haven’t covered every category either – regardless, I’ll sum all that up at the end of the year.
2011, though, might just be different. I say might, because let’s face it, I almost always fail at challenges. But I’ve recently become much more disciplined in my reading, and if I can choose books that I definitely want to read and which I feel are worthwhile, I might have a shot.
So, first up will be A Year of Feminist Classics. I’ve been interested in this challenge ever since I heard about it. It’s hosted by four bloggers and they’re rotating which books they host each month. I’ve read hardly any books that deal with feminism and none at all on this list (I know – I’m ashamed!). So I really want to give it a try. Some of the books are expensive and not in my library, but I’ll see how I’m feeling when those months come along. Here’s the list:
January: A Vindication of the Rights of Women by Mary Wollestonecraft – Amy
February: The Subjection of Women by John Stuart Mill and Harriet Taylor Mill – Ana
March: A Doll’s House by Henrik Ibsen – Emily
April: Herland by Charlotte Perkins Gilman – Iris
May: A Room of One’s Own by Virginia Woolf – Ana
June: The Feminine Mystique by Betty Friedan OR The Female Eunuch by Germaine Greer – Amy
July: The Second Sex by Simone de Beauvoir – Iris
August: The Women’s Room by Marilyn French – Emily
September: The Beauty Myth by Naomi Wolf – Amy
October: Ain’t I a Woman? by bell hooks – Iris
November: Gender Trouble by Judith Butler – Ana
December: Sister Outsider by Audre Lorde – Emily
My second challenge that I’m announcing today is the What’s in a Name 4 challenge, hosted by Beth Fish Reads. I’ve never done this one before but it looks like fun. The rules are to read one book in each of the following categories between January 1 and December 31, 2011. I’ve included my options below.
1. A book with a number in the title
- Sixty-one Nails, Mark Shevdon
- The Thirteen Treasures, Michelle Harrison
2. A book with jewelry or a gem in the title
- Confucius Jade, Frederick Fisher
3. A book with a size in the title
- Small Island, Andrea Levy
- Notes from a Small Island, Bill Bryson
4. A book with travel or movement in the title
- Looking for Alaska, John Green
- A Walk in the Woods, Bill Bryson
5. A book with evil in the title
- Roots of Evil, Sarah Rayne
- Demon Angel, Meljean Brook
6. A book with a life stage in the title
Which challenges have you signed up for in 2011?
 Andi’s life hasn’t been right for two years, ever since her little brother Truman lost his life on a Brooklyn street. She’s convinced it’s her fault, and in the wake of his death, her family has fallen apart. Her father has moved to Boston and begun a new life; her mother spends her days painting portraits of her dead son. Meanwhile, Andi is failing out of school and can only take refuge in one thing: her music. Unexpectedly, Andi’s father decides she must graduate from high school. He sends her mother to a mental hospital and whisks Andi off to Paris, insisting she write her senior thesis outline under his watch. In Paris, Andi discovers a diary inside an old guitar case, and a surprising connection to a girl from the French Revolution who watched over Louis-Charles, the son of Louis XVI and Marie Antoinette.
When I finished this book, there was just one word in my head. Wow. Jennifer Donnelly has some talent going on and it’s in full force with Revolution. I can say I was uncertain for about the first hundred pages, but by the time Andi discovers the diary, I was completely rapt and managed to finish the rest of the book in less than half a day. I just couldn’t put it down. I knew the outcome but I still felt like I had to know what happened, to Andi, to Alex, even to Louis-Charles. Donnelly melds history, music, and the pains of growing up amidst tragedy in ways that are almost indescribably beautiful and moving.
What most stood out to me was Andi’s character. Faced with incredible difficulties, she’s on the verge of falling apart. Unfortunately the death of a loved one seems to be a recurring theme in my reading lately – subconscious choices as I get closer to a day like that for me perhaps – and Andi’s struggle is difficult. I could completely feel for her and can’t imagine how much harder it would be if I had a reason to blame myself for a loved one’s death. Resisting the urge to fall apart isn’t easy. Donnelly masterfully sketches out her character in the space of just a few chapters; the first were hard to take and you could argue that the story takes too long to get going, but Andi’s character is one thing she gets perfectly correct.
I also thought the music angle was a very cool line to take and the perfect message for the book’s target audience. So many teens and young adults use music to express themselves in a way – the rest of us do too, but it’s difficult to recapture that frenzy and desperate energy that teenagers seem to have (I know, I speak like I’m way older than I am here, but this is long gone for me). Andi’s discoveries and musical passion make her interesting for all age ranges, in my opinion, and I loved the fact that her historical experiences and her academic experiences tied in so awesomely by the end.
All in all, Revolution was a pretty amazing book. I don’t think it matters if you’re a teen or an adult, this is truly excellent reading. I know it’ll stick in my memory for quite some time to come.
I am an Amazon Associate. I received this book for free for review from the publisher.
 Idina Sackville was one of the most scandalous British women of the 20s – her reputation was so destroyed that her great-granddaughter, the author of this book, wasn’t even told they were related until a coincidence forced her mother to reveal the truth. Idina married not just once but five times, divorcing most of her husbands; her need for intimacy caused her to cheat on many of them and lent her character to a number of infamous seductresses depicted in fiction. Throughout, however, it’s clear that Idina is a woman who simply needed to be loved, who was treated unfairly by the rules of her society, and whose life gives us a perfect lens for looking at this period in history for women.
I’ve seen this book around for what seems like a year now, and one day I finally saw it on the library shelf and decided it was time to read it. That decision was a good one, because in many ways this book was fascinating. Idina epitomizes the raciness of the 20s and the post-war era, but because she didn’t remain safely in the bonds of marriage, she was completely ostracized. From a young age, she learned that men leave, because her father left her mother and they divorced – which meant Idina’s mother couldn’t introduce her into society. Instead, an aunt had to do it. She seems to have adored her first husband, but after the honeymoon period his attention wandered to other women, especially when Idina fell ill and couldn’t satisfy his needs effectively. And so she fled, divorcing him and leaving two small boys that she was forbidden to ever see again, thus starting the cycle of scandals that defined her life.
What struck me most about this book was how hypocritical Idina’s society seemed. The author relates plenty of stories about just how the Edwardians were emerging from the strict Victorian era, and how in particular the two world wars started to shake the foundations of marriages and morals, especially in the higher echelons of society and particularly as these started to break down. It was fairly typical for aristocratic married couples to take lovers, but it was kept safely under the guise of marriage. Divorce became less and less scandalous over the course of the period, but Idina pushed the limits with her many husbands – most of whom were younger than her and by quite a bit as she aged. Yet we also got stories of women who greeted their guests while arising from their baths and one particular story of a woman who went to her own party clothed in nothing but pearls. For married women, this seems fine; for Idina, a divorcee, not so.
Truly the saddest part of the book was the way that Idina’s many marriages and divorces robbed her of all chances of happiness. Through the author’s eyes, she seems to have just wanted love and affection. Otherwise, why marry? Why divorce? Why not just take lovers under the safe cover of marriage if all she needed was physical? Her attempts to regain contact with her children at the end of her life show that she started to regret her choices and excerpts from her letters at the end of the book are heartbreaking.
This wasn’t a perfect book, though; I did feel that Idina remained an elusive, mysterious figure throughout. I struggled to get a true feel for her and her decisions don’t always make the most sense. I’m not sure what would have done the trick; I think I would have preferred more excerpts from letters by her. At the start of the book, they’re mainly from her husband, with a few interruptions from Idina, and I felt that trend continued. At times the author reimagines scenes, with speech quotes, which make it clear she did have access to personal records, and I think I’d have preferred straight quotes from letters to get a feel for Idina’s voice and character from the woman herself. I certainly felt for her, but I didn’t get that connection I was craving.
If you’re looking for a interesting social history through the lens of one woman embodying an ever-changing society, The Bolter is definitely a book for you. It’s less a portrait of a woman and more a portrait of a time; regardless, it’s fascinating.
I am an Amazon Associate. I borrowed this book from my local library.
 Eleanor of Aquitaine’s life is turbulent almost from the start. At age fifteen she comes into her inheritance as Duchess of Aquitaine and Countess of Poitiers; while she holds both of these titles in her own right, her husband will still be the one who rules them, and as such she’s the most eligible bride in Europe. For three months, anyway, until the French king Louis VII marries her and makes her Queen of France. Eleanor’s adventures don’t stop there, however; her marriage with Louis is annulled after her failure to give him sons (and after a crusade), after which she promptly marries the future Henry II of England, and gives birth to a proper devil’s brood of sons who later change the face of Europe.
Older historical fiction, in my mind, has one big problem; it romanticizes everything. This book was written in the fifties and it’s glaringly obvious to any reader of historical fiction (or student of history). Everyone is, naturally, noble and kind and beautiful, loyal to the king, and even the merest of peasants can spout long sentences of astonishing fealty when prompted. Eleanor, despite being lauded, rarely shows any example of her will here. She seems afloat on the seas of fate; about the only thing she decides to do herself, and which she actually controls, is her decision to go on crusade. Otherwise, it’s always the men. I wanted to go back in history and tell Norah Lofts that it’s okay for women to take initiative; pointing out the influence that women may have had, which is almost never recorded, is what historical fiction is for.
Anyway, that doesn’t erase all the problems with the story either. Most of the book reads like a listing of facts, especially in the beginning. The few times that Eleanor speaks up, we’re mostly told she does, like when she explains things out to Louis about her lands. We don’t know what they are, we’re just told that she makes all things clear to him, and that later he’s persuaded otherwise. The whole book is a lesson in how to write a story by telling and not showing. Eleanor’s life was long and it’s compressed so much that there’s not space for anything else for most of the book.
Surprisingly enough, the book did pick up towards the end. I still noticed irritating things, like the fact that Geoffrey is mostly ignored until he dies. I’m pretty sure that, in real life, Eleanor and Henry wouldn’t ignore one of their children so flagrantly, though I guess I could be wrong. Richard and John are the bad kids that grew to manhood and kinghood, so I guess when you have only 300 pages, you talk about them. But the story did get interesting, Eleanor started to stand up for herself a bit more after she got out of prison.
Eleanor of Aquitaine was a fascinating woman and she deserves all the attention she’s getting these days. Unfortunately, Eleanor the Queen is definitely not the first book I’d recommend reading on her. Choose Sharon Kay Penman’s books, starting with When Christ and His Saints Slept, or for non-fiction, Alison Weir’s Eleanor Of Aquitaine is both interesting and accessible. Word on the street is to avoid her fiction title about Eleanor, which I have managed so far!
I am an Amazon Associate. I received this book for free from the publisher for review.
 Nine travelers find themselves banding together, seeking escape from the Black Death that has just arrived in England for the first time. These nine are not just travelers; they have stories to tell and secrets to hide. As they increasingly lie to one another while telling their stories, it becomes clear that what’s after them is not the plague, but their own pasts. Unfortunately for these nine wanderers, the past is not something so easily avoided.
I wanted to like this book more than I think I ended up liking it. I’ve had it for a couple years, and reading it definitely revealed to me why I was waiting; it’s very dark. It was certainly gripping at times, especially in the beginning. I enjoyed how each traveler had a story; I knew they were all lying about some aspect of their story and at first it wasn’t easy to figure out what was really going on. As the story progressed, however, the lies become fairly obvious and the plot starts to unravel a bit. Even I, who never puts any effort at all into guessing the outcome of a book, found myself predicting what was going to happen.
The story is just very grim and occasionally hard to take. This is a book set during the Black Death about a bunch of liars, so I suppose this could be expected, but the problem is that the book is also quite long. Maitland’s writing is very good and she’s quite a storyteller, but there’s only so much Black Death and murders anyone can actually take. As a result, the book felt like it started to drag, particularly towards the end. I could mainly see what was going to happen and everything was quite dark and grim – after a few days of reading one book, I felt like I needed a break before it was even over.
That said, there is also much to enjoy with this one. In particular, I loved the details that Maitland included, and I certainly felt I got a sense of how the Black Death demolished the countryside, turned people against one another, and brought out the worst in some and the best in others. Other books also do this well, and it’s something that, morbid as it is, I am very interested in. Doomsday Book by Connie Willis is also an excellent choice if you share my peculiar fascination with the plague and how people reacted to it. I also liked the main character here, who has plenty of secrets to share over the course of the book. I figured out the secret, but I liked watching him figure out the other characters’ secrets as the story moved along.
All in all, I expect I’d have liked Company of Liars better if it was shorter, with a tighter plot, rather than the rambling that seems to match how the company traveled. Still, I think Maitland has talent, and of course the Middle Ages always appeal to me, so I’m looking forward to picking up future books by her.
I am an Amazon Associate. I purchased this book.
 Luis de Santangel has risen far as a converso. He’s the Chancellor of Aragon and an advisor to King Ferdinand; he has power, influence, and money, all anyone would need to succeed in the Middle Ages. That’s until the Inquisition comes to town, and with it Thomas Torquemada, a priest who very much has it in for Santangel. That’s because after years of Christianity, Santangel finds himself longing to learn about his Jewish past, about the secret rituals his parents kept, despite the danger he knows it brings to him and his family. The threat is not an idle one, and as Santangel begins to lose those close to him, so he begins to lose the trappings of power and influence that shaped his life so clearly.
I really liked this book, and for so many reasons that I’m not sure I’m even capable of spelling them out in a review! I haven’t read much fiction set around the Inquisition, at least not that I can think of right now; it’s a dark time, and those facing the consequences of the church’s zeal for reform faced that darkness full on. Santangel is one such unfortunate soul; a man who simply wants to learn more about the faith of his family is destroyed piece by piece. This is not a light-hearted, frothy novel; this is a close look at what such torture actually did to people. It’s also a very thoughtful perspective on the need some people have for faith and spirituality; Christianity isn’t what calls to Santangel’s heart, it seems, as Judaism is at the very core of his history.
Of course, Kaplan doesn’t miss out on the suffering which practicing Jews themselves suffered. The story’s alternate narrator is Judith, a Jewish woman who never married but now cares for her nephew and his aging grandfather, Baba Shlomo. Grieving for the loss of her brother, Judith becomes determined to be a silversmith, the craft which Baba Shlomo and her brother both practiced. After much persuasion, she finally attains the knowledge, only to be faced with incredible difficulties selling her ware. Her work and travels bring her into contact with Luis de Santangel, encounters which flesh out the plot and make these two characters seem even more human.
Through Judith’s eyes, we see the intense difficulties of life for Jews under the Inquisition. Judith and her family live in Muslim Granada, where Jews were permitted to live. Though they’re not tortured and killed as they were under the Christians, their lives still aren’t easy, and when Ferdinand and Isabella come with their Reconquista, the Jews are left to fend for themselves. I had actually learned about this previously in studying medieval Spain, but never had we covered so closely how it must have felt for the Jews, thrust from the land in which generations of their ancestors had lived, robbed of all their possessions, and sent away to somehow live. Judith’s choices are many and difficult, but I sympathized with her throughout and believed what she did was the right thing.
And then, finally, there was the interesting perspective on Christopher Columbus. My own opinion of the man is not very rosy. I can’t forgive him the crimes he committed. But it was nevertheless very interesting to read a depiction of him before all of that happened on his quest for funding. I think many American children retain a bit of a fascination with Columbus; even after knowing that he was quite terrible in actuality, all the little bits about the Nina, the Pinta, and the Santa Maria that I learned in second grade still sticks in my head. I liked how he fit in the story; I thought using such a well-known figure firmly landed the story in its historical period, for those who know little about Spain’s past, and widened it beyond a single country.
I found By Fire, By Water to be an incredibly satisfying historical novel. It was dark, but it held me spellbound as the tale of Santangel unravelled. I would definitely recommend it to anyone who enjoys historical fiction set in the late Middle Ages.
I am an Amazon Associate. I received this book for free from the author for review.
 The Passport, Herta Muller
This short novella revolves around the quest for a passport out of Romania for a miller, his wife, and daughter. I can’t summarize it more than that because this book and I really just didn’t get along at all. I found it to be far too vague, one of those books where every word means something and you have to spend time puzzling it out before you can properly appreciate the story. As such, I might have liked it if I’d read it in a class and had a chance to dissect it, but as I did read it I just wasn’t in the mood for that sort of thing. I finished it, but I doubt I will read anything else by Herta Muller. I’ve seen elsewhere that this was a poor translation from the German, but despite that I just don’t normally want to read anything that literary.
 A Long Way Down, Nick Hornby
New Year’s Eve is a very popular time to kill yourself. Four people from entirely different walks of life in London discover that as they meet atop a tower. They manage to talk themselves out of suicide and spend an evening wandering around the town. Afterwards, they struggle to find a place for one another in their lives, even though they recognize that few other people will understand their unique experiences.
I didn’t really know what to make of this book. I liked that it highlighted the differences yet similarities between people of all different backgrounds, how their problems seemed more or less severe but all were in despair. I didn’t think the book really had a point, though, unless it was that people are different from the way they think about themselves – butI’m not sure it was meant to. I can’t decide if I like that or not. I read this one during the Read-a-thon so it’s gone sadly fuzzy now, but I do intend to read more of Hornby in the future.
 The Year of Magical Thinking, Joan Didion
This is a hard book to write about, so I’m chickening out with a mini review. Basically, Didion’s husband passed away suddenly at her dinner table, just days before Christmas, and while their daughter was severely ill in hospital. The book is about the year after she lost her husband, how she behaved irrationally because of her grief, and the profound effect that losing someone can have.
This was a difficult book for me; ever since I lost my brother, I’ve been incredibly worried that I’ll lose someone else. I don’t grieve in this way any longer, but it’s still such a tough subject to cope with. I read the book mainly because I thought it was worthwhile to see how other people felt, to try and learn about emotions that aren’t mine. The loss of a husband and a brother are different, but I could recognize much of myself in this book. Ultimately, it’s difficult to take, but it does give you a real insight into how a grieving widow will feel – and it may make you stop and think when you or someone you love loses someone.
 Dead in the Family, Charlaine Harris
This tenth book in the Sookie Stackhouse series deals with the aftermath of the catastrophic events in Dead and Gone. Sookie’s changed quite a bit over the course of the series and now has her own grief and hard feelings towards others to deal with. Things never stand still, though, so she’s not left alone to recover. Instead, her friend Amelia moves away and her fairy cousin Claude moves in. She has a visit from Hunter, her little cousin who shares her powers, and she has to deal with some unexpected visitors from Eric’s surprising side of the family.
I love getting my hand on another installment of this series; it’s a nice return to a familiar world, even if it’s changed somewhat since the first books. I think Sookie herself has probably undergone the most changes. So I definitely liked the book, but the plot was very loose if at all existent. This is another book where some things happen, but most of them don’t actually lead to much. The climax of the book is quite speedy, but we lose much of the build-up to it. Mainly, it’s Sookie going about her life; I don’t mind this, but as a book I don’t think it held together all that well. Still, always looking forward to the next!
I am an Amazon Associate. The first of these books was sent to me for review; the rest I acquired on my own.
 On the eve of World War II, Max and his family moved from their city house out to the shore, where it should be safer. Unbeknownst to them, it’s anything but, as strange things start to happen as soon as they move in. Max’s sister Irina’s cat appears possessed, various members of the family start having strange dreams, and Max encounters a sculpture garden where he swears the sculptures move. What’s going on, and what does it have to do with the previous family, whose son drowned in the ocean?
I had high hopes for this book. I was pretty sure I’d seen it reviewed enthusiastically around the internet, and my online book club chose it as a spooky read for the end of October. Plus, I liked Zafon’s other books, especially The Shadow of the Wind. I knew he could do atmosphere, so I was excited to find out what he could do with a spooky one.
Unfortunately, I was really disappointed in it. I knew it was a YA book going in, so that wasn’t really the problem, but it just seemed so simplistic, so irritatingly dumbed down in many different ways. I’ve read plenty of YA and I know it doesn’t have to be like this, which is part of the reason it struck such a wrong note with me. I felt almost like this was a children’s book, not a YA book, which would probably explain my feelings.
To start, for a horror book the story began almost painfully slowly. I really just was not interested in what happened to Max or his family. As the suspense crept up on him, I did get slightly more interested in the story, but I felt ready to put it down at any point. The suspense was also often ruined by the fact that the story contained vast amounts of info dumping. Every time Max talked to someone, it seemed they had a pages-long story to tell him about the past, which of course impacted the present day hugely. I kind of wished we’d actually flipped back and forth in time, rather than having large story-telling sessions which simply lost the flow of the narrative.
Then there were the characters. I found it hard to relate to any of them, but Max was difficult in particular. His reactions didn’t seem typical of a nine-year-old boy, at least no little boy I’ve ever known. He seems much too wise for his age, and the book is very reflective in terms of his emotions and reactions to things. For example, he immediately invites his sister to hang out with his new friend, and at one point smiles to himself because he catches said friend and his sister kissing – wondering if it’s been the first time it had ever happened for them, in a peculiar adult-like way that creeped me out. I actually thought he was a teenager, and was surprised to look back at the end and see that he’s only nine. I couldn’t believe in his character and that ruined it for me.
Sure, there are hints of atmosphere in places, and I was creeped out at points. I can see where his future talent was emerging. But overall, I was disappointed with this book. I may have felt differently if I’d approached it as a kid’s book, not a YA book, but honestly, I doubt it. It didn’t feel the way the reviews led me to believe it would, and in the end I found The Prince Of Mist disappointing. I doubt I will read another of Zafon’s books aimed at children; I’ll still happily read his adult books though!
I am an Amazon Associate. I purchased this book.
 By all outward appearances, and in their own minds, Simon and Emily Bear lead a happy life. Simon is a successful doctor, beloved by his patients and staff. Emily is a star in the PR world, effortlessly smoothing over crises as she gives talks and inspires young people to pursue her career path. Perhaps the only outward dark spot in their life is their daughter, Jamie, but as she’s a teenager, she’s expected to be rebellious. As the book continues, however, we learn about the cracks in their marriage, like the baby boy who died just weeks after his birth, the man that Emily left because he wasn’t suiting her direction in life, the problems that Simon has with his parents. As the book continues, we learn that appearances aren’t everything, and perhaps the most successful of all of us could be the most broken on the inside.
This was a book that’s grown on me since I finished it. I’m not really a fan of stories about modern relationships, as I’ve mentioned in depth on this blog in the past. I live my own life in the real world, so it takes a special something to capture me in a story that’s about the same world. In fact, I only read this one because my mom requested it from Amazon Vine but left the review too long, and because it’s published by Amy Einhorn Books, of which I’m a fan.
As expected, it took me a while to get into the book. I really wasn’t interested in the fate of this particular family at first; they felt too normal, too much a suburban couple thinking more of themselves than what they are. Interestingly, I found I related much more to Emily – I vastly preferred her sections to Simon’s. I put down the book once or twice when they switched – I just didn’t want to read from his perspective. Simon felt to me like a very arrogant person. He constantly denies anything that’s slightly wrong in his life, glossing over it, inserting himself awkwardly into situations, trying to take control when he’s clearly not wanted. The way he dismisses the intern at the start put me against him right away – he just couldn’t deal with the fact that she didn’t adore him like everyone else. As the book progressed, I could see where he came from. I found his attempt to find a cure for chronic pain almost ironic; he’s trying to cure physical pain when the pain that really impacts his life is the emotional kind, which both he and Emily still suffer from years after their initial loss. Despite understanding, I still couldn’t like him.
Emily, on the other hand, I sympathized with, perhaps because I could see how she made the choices she did when she was young. I felt her pain more clearly; I could understand how she got the way she was but still feel for the woman she’d become. This is so strange, because she commits wrongs over the course of the book that are substantially worse than Simon’s. I was left wondering if I could feel for her, and not him, because her problems were ones I could better relate to as a woman even though I hadn’t experienced them myself. Some sort of instinctive sympathy, perhaps – I really don’t know, but the fact stands.
Remedies would be a great choice for those who really like to peek into the lives of a successful family and see deep into the layers of relationships. For me, however, it fell a bit short, but I’m sticking that firmly in the realm of personal preference and looking forward to seeing if Kate Ledger writes something that’s more to my taste next time.
I am an Amazon Associate. I received this book for free from Amazon Vine.
|
|
Recent Comments