This is a story of refined obsession. As more of Van Tassel's character was revealed, I found myself feeling more and more sorry for him. I boo'ed at Etna's agreement to marry him, but cheered when her secret cottage was revealed (though, to be clear, that whole storyline could have used about 50 more pages of development).

Since the story is written as Van Tassel's memoir (composed en route to a funeral in Florida), the timeline shifts inconsistently and it often becomes unclear just what is happening when. Van Tassel speculates much too much on his wife's activities and those passages read more like pseudo-Victorian smut than anything else.

Overall, an average story that wasn't an entire waste of time.

Banville's book was written to be read. It is simply, harrowingly amazing. Each word, each phrase, each sentence is a literary delight and I kept re-reading passages, pages, chapters, just to once again feel the full weight of the language.

It's a sensual read, embracing all of the senses, and is at once set in one place and every where. It has the potential to be a timeless read--there aren't many contemporary allusions and the book doesn't fuss itself into some genre it's not. And because of this, and more, The Sea is one of those rare books that I will be able to read again, sooner than later.

There are twists to the story, and one that's all together unpredictable at the end. The revelations are subtle and masterfully executed, a footnote to the imagery and story.

In some ways, I was reminded of James Joyce when I read this, and perhaps some of that can be attributed to the nationality of Banville--he's Irish, too. But I think it was more than that. The descriptions, the characterizations, the whole of it is sparse, yet rich, a constant pulsing contradiction. As I languished in the last 40 pages last night, I took note of this: "After dinner Miss Vavasour clears the table in a few broad fanciful passes--she is altogether too good for this kind of menial chore--while the Colonel and I sit in vague distress listening to our systems doing their best to deal with the insults with which they have just been served." How thoroughly proper and yet base that sentence. The Sea is a book of remembering and, also, learning to remember. If you're a fan of literature, modern or classic, read this.

A modern take on the Western, this story immerses the reader in a time lost to most city dwellers. Homesteading and heartbreak are characters of their own and common literary twists take a backseat in this homage to small town life and the one-room schoolhouse.

I really wanted to like this book by the author of Housekeeping, but it just moved too slowly and without promise of interest. I read it during a heavy literature period, though, so maybe if I tried to reread it, it would prove itself.

If you like a happy ending, or, an ending period, this novel is not for you. Multiple stories weave in and out, almost imperceptibly, and the most observant reader will note the similarities across miles and decades. Events happen chronologically for the characters, but events are revealed in a more emotional timeline--we learn when we are allowed to, keeping the characters omnipotent and the reader waiting and discovering. I read The English Patient, also by Ondaatje, but never really got into the book--perhaps because of the movie, perhaps because of something else.

Divisadero is the rare novel that I want to reread immediately.

Hazzard's previous novel, The Transit of Venus remains among my favorites. I was hesitant and excited to read this latest one; I found I was not disappointed. Hazzard takes her time writing the story and telling the story. Each word is deliberate, like each step Leith takes as he crosses East Asia. The story is dense, classic literature at its best.

This slim story wastes few words and its fantastic elements are palpable. As an overt fantasy, I found myself entertained more than annoyed (my normal reaction to fantasies). The story lines cross neatly, and the characters hold up both independently and together. I would definitely try another of her novels.

A predictable small-town story of two brothers: they're rivals! Lawson does bring her B+ game, though: certain passages of this novel are still vibrant in my mind. I could have done without the crossing over of the two stories, and actually prefer stories to be more linear.

This book had some fairly brutal scenes, and it also had some generic young girl/old man scenes. The book suffers from some contrived phrasing and I spent more time than I would have liked to rereading wordy paragraphs. Also, I kept thinking it was by Ed Begley. That's a distraction in and of itself, right?

This is a heartbreaking chronicle of a childhood that seems too awful to be true. Walls writes openly about her memories of growing up in an unstable - physically, mentally, and emotionally - house. But instead of presenting a scathing accusation against her parents, Walls remains respectful and optimistic throughout.

I loved Jin's Waiting, reading it basically in one evening. When I found The Pond on our return shelf, I jumped on it. Sadly, this book isn't just as good a read. I don't know if the translation is too literal, or if it was written to seem as something poorly translated (doubt that), but the story's not exactly engaging. Perhaps if I was more familiar with the culture or the implied time period?

I LOVED this book, which surprises me to no end, given my complete aversion to fantasy (I absolutely cannot read Harry Potter, though I've tried!). Always one to root for the underdog, I devoured every second of Elphaba's story. I like Maguire's style and I'm disappointed to hear that some of his other titles (Ugly Stepsister, Mirror, Mirror, for example) aren't as well-constructed. For me, I think it was being able to see behind the curtain, if you will, and learn imagined secrets behind a childhood favorite.

It's a well-written story in terms of words and langauge on paper. But, the story is predictable from the first chapter (save for the very end and the sister's demise, though that twist made me laugh out loud more than anything else). I found myself angry with the characters for most of the read--the mooning ex-girlfriend, the uppity soon-to-be-mother-in-law, the smug sister... But, I read on, hoping for a satisfying ending or at least some sort of character-molting or a life realization. A number of people have recommended Ruth Rendell (both friends and patrons), but I was underwhelmed with the total package.

Convinced that there's a child predator out to get her, Sally O'Malley spends much of this novel suspecting others of foul play. Though some of the plot twists are terribly predictable (who'd've guessed Miss O'Malley's first suspect was actually her father? *eyeroll*) and some of the characters are either underdeveloped or seemingly made of cliches, this was still an enjoyable read. I think much of that is because we're seeing things through Sally's point-of-view--all the insecurities, bravado, misunderstandings, and whatever else makes up a pre-pubescent girl. Not exactly a taxing read, this is definitely a good beach read.

The story starts out strongly, small-town girl made big-city reporter is assigned to cover a pair of murders that happened in her small-town. A familiar enough plot, Flynn gives us not just another starry-eyed girl made big, but a broken girl, reluctant to return home and unable to articulate exactly why.

While home, Camille visits old ghosts, ends up in bed with the lead investigator as well as the lead suspect (two different people), and solves the case. Described that way, it's a fairly straight-forward thriller/mystery. As the story unfolds, though, the bizarre twistedness unfurls like a tired, fading flag. It's the sort of thing that had me saying to myself, "This is not about to happen..." And it happened.

It's hard to say whole-heartedly that a book about pre-pubescent murdered girls is good, but this one works. Well-written, but not for the weak-minded.

The opening chapter presents what might be a more common scene than the good-hearted among us care to imagine--a couple on their way to an end suddenly facing a life-changing accident. Carrie Bell has to then wrestle with expectations and ultimately alienates much of her hometown when she leaves in the middle of the night.

The story moves from the midwest to New York and while it was written with recognizable cliches (the Loner, the walkable City, the Midwestern Girl, and so on), it was deftly done. Kilroy remains a loner, the small-town looms larger than Manhattan, and Carrie leaves with a little stain from the city, a pleasant and real reminder of her independence.

Mildly predictable, played-out characters, and a lackluster plot seem to be the three common things I find in most of Anita Shreve's novels. The writing is decent enough to carry me through the story, though.

I was enticed by a description that mentioned some sort of bizarre fraternal love triangle, but really, the triangle was less sex (not even about sex, just no sex) and more about power and sibling rivalry.

What was interesting (if not also cloying) was the reference to other (enjoyable) works on Shreve's shelf.

I saw this film right after I read the book (which I loved!) and was very disappointed, but not surprised. There is so much missing in the movie... I am not even sure why they made it. Take it from me, read the book instead!

BBC miniseries of the life of Edward VI, which starts even before his birth with a brilliant performance by Annette Crosbie as his mother Queen Victoria. The only thing that bothers me about this one is that abruptly the teenage boy Edward turns into a man who looks nothing like him (Timothy West). Otherwise a great series and still deserves 5 stars.

The casting is startling in this one, especially for Wallis Simpson who resembles the real one to a tee! The acting is superb. This is the story of a romance which changed the course of history.