Recovered Books

I am in love with the Recovered Books series from The Fox is Black. Gorgeous design and oh, so clever! The Great Gatsby competition is my favorite so far, and I'm on pins and needles waiting for Jane Eyre!

The Last Ember by Daniel Levin

Summary and Review

Jonathan Marcus is a young, high powered attorney from New York. His background in classics--he was once a fellow at the prestigious American Academy in Rome, gives him the perfect background for legal work dealing in ancient artifacts of dubious ownership. One afternoon, he is handed a memo telling him to board a plane for Italy. In Rome, he finds himself trying to defend a mysterious client's ownership of two ancient pieces of Roman marble. The seemingly innocuous court case brings him face-to-face with an old girlfriend and together they are thrown into a deadly race to recover an ancient artifact from the last temple in Jerusalem.

The Last Ember has a clear political agenda. It is clearly anti-Palestinian and pro-Israel, and was written to counter alleged historical revisionism occurring in the Holy Land. I have no problem with Levin writing from this viewpoint, but I think the reader should be informed of it upfront. Daniel Levin's website, www.daniellevin.com, is straightforward and makes his views clear.

I picked this book up from the Readers' Choice table in my local library. The storyline as summarized on the back of the novel sounded intriguing enough, and I thought it would be a nice break from some of the hefty non-fiction histories that I've been reading lately. I have to say that I was really disappointed.

As I said, the idea for the book is interesting, but I can't even give Daniel Levin credit for that. Have you read The Da Vinci Code or watched Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade or National Treasure? If so, all you need to do is throw in some Nazis (oh wait, Indiana Jones already took care of that), a mysterious, conspiratorial group of wealthy religious fanatics (check, The Da Vinci Code), a family legend passed down through generations (check, National Treasure), a race against the bad guys through the underground of Rome (The Da Vinci Code again), the Knights Templar (check, Indiana Jones, National Treasure, and The Da Vinci Code) and an ancient artifact, sought after for its power but lost to history as a mere legend (again, check, check, check).

No joke, the plot for this book was lifted straight from these previous storylines. The characters were rote: the noble, indefatigable policeman, a la Brown's Bezu Fache, the sexy, smart and uptight Sophie Neveu/Abigail Chase/Elsa Schneider female sidekick character, and the hero, in this case modeled after the author himself, a former-American-Academy-scholar-turned-international-lawyer, all brawn and brains.

There was even a scene in which the hero is trying to save his colleague, who is dangling over a precipice, from certain death. Marcus yells to his friend to give him his other hand, but the colleague, who is clutching a priceless historical find in that hand, refuses to let go, and so slips from Marcus' grasp, falling into the abyss below (p. 270). I could almost hear Harrison Ford saying, "Elsa, give me your other hand, honey. I can't hold you!" and Alison Doody's reply, "It'll be ours, Indy! Yours and mine!" just before her glove slips off and she falls screaming into the crevice.

Seriously.

But you know what? I could have dealt with all of that. After all, that's how much of literature happens, building and borrowing from previous works. I could even have looked past the utter cheese in the book, such as the description of Jonathan Marcus' and Emili Travia's first sexual encounter, when the description of Marcus removing Travia's clothing is likened to an archeologist "uncovering archaeological strata that required great study and attention" (p. 333). Ugh. That is just. so. bad.

But anyway, I could have gotten past all of that if it hadn't been for the unbelievably poor characterizations. For the most part, the characters were extremely one-dimensional--all good, all heroic, or all bad. And the ones who weren't--well it was hardly a surprise. As paradoxical as it sounds, even the duplicitous characters are irritatingly one-dimensional.

Most irritating was the way that Levin wrote the character of Emili Travia, the sexy and supposedly smart former colleague-cum-lover of Jonathan Marcus. Supposedly, Emili is so brilliant that she has a post as a preservationist with the UN--deputy director of the International Centre for Conservation in Rome. She's received prestigious awards and can even, upon entering a dark, partially ruined chamber, instantly ascertain that the stone came from quarries in Jerusalem rather than Rome (p. 350). Yet she doesn't know the origins of the name "Maccabee," has never heard of the Hanukkah story (pp. 174-175), and when faced with a fresco depicting the life of Joseph of Egypt, she is at a complete loss to identify it:

"These frescoes," Jonathan said. He trained his beam on a series of ancient paintings that lined one of the corridors. "They look recently excavated." In the first painting, the pigment had faded, but the figures were quite clear: a young man, in a neck chain hitched to other prisoners, pulled heavy stones.

"I don't recognize the myth," Emili said. "Sisyphys pushing a boulder?"

"No," Jonathan said. "Look at the next painting." The same young prisoner, Jonathan noticed, the chain still around his neck, but he was now standing before a king, who listened raptly. The prisoner was pointing above his head, where two rows of cows stood side by side among starts in a night sky.

"In this last frame, a slave has been brought from prison before a king," Emili said. "It looks like an Egyptian pharaoh."

"Yes," Jonathan said, "and he's interpreting the pharaoh's dream, pointing to skinny cows and fat cows."

"What Roman myth is it, then?" Emili said. (p. 215)

Are you KIDDING me? "What Roman myth is it, then?" And just in case you still think that this world-renown archeologist should be excused for her ignorance, perhaps on the basis of a secular upbringing, 50 pages earlier Emili quoted the Abrahamic covenant, citing Sunday school as her reference (p. 173). She must have been a very selective listener, both in Sunday school and in graduate school.

Oh, and she knows Latin well enough to read Ovid's erotic poetry (p. 39), but throughout the book, Marcus is constantly having to translate other Latin passages for her, such as "Phere Nike Umbilicus Orbis Terrarum" (p. 184), which I could pretty much get the gist of with just a couple years of high school French.

To me, this is all evidence of two things: lazy, sloppy writing, first of all; and second, it indicates that the author has a very low estimation of his readers' intelligence. Clearly Levin, a Harvard Law graduate and former visiting scholar at the American Academy in Rome, is not unintelligent. Therefore, I have to conclude that he thinks his readers are.

I know that a lot of the things I mentioned seem petty. And to be honest, there are a number of books that I enjoy which suffer from some of the same problems that I've mentioned above. However, in the case of The Last Ember, I didn't see anything to redeem these failings and make it worth my time as a reader.

★★☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆ (2/10)

Content:

Blood and gore: Yes; nothing that you won't see in Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade, however.

Sex: There are a couple of sexual encounters referenced, but they are not descriptive and overall the sexual content is extremely mild.

Language: The F-word is used once. Otherwise the book is fairly clean.

Mirror Mirror by Gregory Maguire

Summary and Review:

Gregory Maguire is well known for re-imagining the lives of famous storybook characters--the ugly stepsister from Cinderella and the Wicked Witch of the West from The Wizard of Oz are his two most famous takes. In Mirror Mirror, Maguire reworks the story of Snow White. In Confessions of an Ugly Stepsister and Wicked: the Life and Times of the Wicked Witch of the West (inspiration for the Broadway musical that we all know and love), focus is clearly on the traditional antagonists of the original stories. In Mirror Mirror, Maguire's focus seems to be split. Bianca de Nevada, the beautiful child with snow white skin (which is more often compared to that of a corpse in Maguire's version), certainly is less interesting than the wicked Lucrezia Borgia, the historical inspiration for Maguire's evil stepmother, but much of the third-person narration comes through her point of view. Although the storyline is easily recognized as having the same origins as Disney's version, Maguire's take on Snow White is much darker, grittier, and seemingly grounded in history, via the infamous Borgia family of Renaissance Italy.

I loved seeing Lucrezia Borgia as the wicked stepmother. Maguire takes a multitude of literary liberties with her character, but even without Maguire's assistance, she and her family are darkly fascinating characters. Legend (and history) describe Lucrezia as beautiful and intelligent, but also ruthless, decadent, and morally depraved. And, as suits the traditional purveyor of poisoned fruit, Lucrezia and her kin are infamous for their draughts (see also: The Count of Monte Cristo). I thought it was perfect "casting."

I also appreciated the fact that, although standing in for the part, in Maguire's version, Lucrezia wasn't actually the wicked stepmother. There are a number of stories (like The Wild Swans, Cinderella, and Snow White) which feature a wicked stepmother, a persecuted daughter, and a kind and loving father. Here's the thing: if Daddy's so great, why would he bring home a femme fatale and then sit by while his new squeeze tortures his beloved daughter's life out? In Mirror Mirror, Maguire introduces his villainess without implicating Bianca's dad. I liked that.

However, there was a lot about Mirror Mirror that I did not like.

I really didn't like Maguire's writing style in this book. At times it seemed oddly like he was writing in free verse. In other spots, I could have sworn he was writing in riddles. It got to the point where it seemed like nothing was stated directly; everything was oblique and drawn-out, and it became incredibly frustrating and tedious to read.

What was clear though, was how crude it was. There was everything from the nursemaid/cook having sex with a squid (what?!--and it was totally unnecessary and unrelated to the story, by the way), to a repeated mentions of bodily functions and even a description of Bianca's first menstrual period. Maguire succeeded in making the story earthy, gritty, and as un-Disney as possible, but it was just too much for my taste.

Also, I had a hard time relating to the characters or, really, caring what happened to them. I thought they were all very unsympathetic. With the exception of the Borgias, who were completely horrifying, the characters were extremely passive. I think Maguire tried to dredge up some sympathy for Lucrezia, but it wasn't enough to make up for the fact that she was a complete monster. Bianca was too remote and otherworldly to be interesting, and her father was neither heroic or compelling. In fact, much of the action wasn't action at all--events came about and people either gained or lost because of them through no merit or fault of their own.

And actually, one of the things that I liked about the book, which was Maguire grounding the fairy tale in history, messed up the ending (we all know a handsome prince--of sorts--wakes her up, right? So I'm not letting out any spoilers?). I can buy the fact that the kiss of a handsome prince will somehow counteract the effect of deadly poison when it's in a Disney fairy tale. But Maguire made his story too realistic. It's ludicrous to think that a kiss (especially considering the unromantic way that Borgian relationships were thrown around as bargaining tools) would be the antidote to a Borgia's poison in this case. And, as if he realized this but just didn't want to deal with it, Maguire didn't even attempt to explain how the kiss revived Bianca. Her resurrection was just an afterthought. ★★★☆☆☆☆☆☆☆ (3/10)

Content:

Blood and gore: yes

Sex: Extreme. There are no graphic descriptions, but everything from rape to adultery and incest to beastiality are mentioned.

Language: Very crude in places. Use of the "s-word."

50 Years: 1960-2010

Dear Ms. Lee

Thank you for Scout, Jem, and Dill. Thank you for Atticus, Miss Maudie, Tom, Calpurnia, Boo Radley and even Miss Stephanie Crawford; for Maycomb and the image of southern ladies wilting in the heat "like soft teacakes with frostings of sweat and sweet talcum." Thank you for teaching us about kindness, strength and understanding, the true meaning of courage, and what it really means to be "fine folk." Thank you for writing the book that millions of us around the world claim as our favorite, for uniting us and binding us together across generations and continents by our love for your little novel. Thank you for pouring all of your heart and soul into this book. It has captured ours.

Book covers, Part 2

In the spirit of the last post, here are a few other book covers that I love:

(I haven't actually read this yet, but it's near the top of my list)

and of course...

What are your favorite book covers?

Go ahead--judge this book by its cover

I'm a little late to the game on these, since they came out late last summer, but I spied this Penguin Classics Deluxe Edition of Wurthering Heights at the library last week, and it literally stopped me in my tracks.


How fabulous is that?

I'll admit it--I can't count myself as a fan of Wuthering Heights. I've read it twice and really, really tried. I can see Emily Bronte's genius as a writer and storyteller; but the story she had to tell... Yikes. However, I am in love with this book cover (the illustrations run onto the inside flaps of the book jacket as well), illustrated by Ruben Toledo. For me, they evoke perfectly the twisted, gothic, torrid world of Cathy and Heathcliff. Heathcliff's actually my favorite part of the illustration--he has a kind of sinister James Dean thing going on. It actually makes me want to give the book another chance. And I definitely need this on my bookshelf.

Toledo illustrated two other classic book covers for Penguin as well, Pride and Prejudice,


and the Scarlet Letter.


Toledo's take on Pride and Prejudice doesn't quite work for me. It's a little too Tim Burton for the BBC version that I have running constantly through my head, but I like the Scarlet Letter. It doesn't put me in the novel as well as Toledo's version of Wuthering Heights, but it's an interesting take on Hawthorne. I especially like the gossips. It feels like Desperate Housewives meets Puritan New England, which is kind of fun.

The Secret Diaries of Charlotte Bronte by Syrie James

Summary and review:

This "secret diary" of Charlotte Bronte follows her romance with Arthur Bell Nicholls. Nicholls was the Brontes' next door neighbor. He worked under her father as the curate of tiny Haworth village for eight years before expressing his love to Charlotte and giving her an offer of marriage. The near-decade that spanned the time between Charlotte's first meeting with Mr. Nicholls and his proposal saw Charlotte evolve from an imaginative spinster to a celebrated writer.

I thought the book started roughly. I didn't buy the idea that these characters were living in a tiny parish in Victorian England. The language seemed stilted and overly formal, yet it was peppered at times with modern-sounding phrases that were completely out-of-place in the dialog. For example, in one scene, Charlotte and Emily are angry with one another. "You cannot stay angry with me for ever," says Charlotte, to which Emily replies, "Watch me."

"Watch me?" Umm, I'm sorry, but I just don't think that Charlotte and Emily Bronte spoke like 21st Century eight-year-olds. So that bothered me. I also didn't like the fact that the "diaries" weren't written in a diary format. The style is more of a narrative than a diary. Charlotte begins the novel by addressing "Diary," but there aren't individual entries; it's as if she's recounting the entire story in two or three sittings.

I did, however, think that the story, if not riveting, was interesting. Syrie James based the plot around letters written by and about Charlotte Bronte and the other characters mentioned. Although the dialog was fabricated and much is conjecture, from what I can tell the story is relatively true to history. It was interesting to learn about the sources of inspiration for the Bronte novels. The lives of the Brontes were tragic, and while reading I realized that I knew very little about Charlotte or her sisters. I admit that formerly I had a difficult time keeping track of the three sisters and remembering which one was which. Having read this book, I feel like I know them better; I doubt I will be confusing them in the future.

Charlotte's romance with Mr. Nicholls is unusual; it was definitely not the sweeping, passionate love affair found in Jane Eyre or Wurthering Heights. It was different from what I expect in a romance and interesting because of it.

I would have liked to know more about Charlotte's early life; actually, I would have liked to know more about the life of all three sisters, Emily in particular. Although her life seems to lack the romance which Charlotte experienced, Emily Bronte is perhaps the most fascinating of the sisters. I've read Wurthering Heights twice times, and each time I was more disturbed by it. What were the circumstances that produced a woman who, coming from the strict, sternly religious upbringing in the rigid Victorian age, could write such a sordid, passionate and disturbing story full of horror, violence, and illicit love?

I also would have liked more more description of the village and the moors. The moors played such a huge part in the Bronte novels, but I never really felt their presence in this book. Haworth as portrayed by Syrie James felt like a bland one-size-fits-all English village.

Jane Eyre is one of my favorite books, and I approached this novel hesitantly. I didn't want to read something silly or talentless that merely coasted off of the popularity of Jane Eyre (Aside: I feel that most of the modern novels based on Jane Austen and her writing fall under this description). I wasn't expecting a true biography, and I didn't get it. I thought that most if not all of the romantic scenes were silly and would have been embarrassing for Charlotte Bronte to have read. However, I did end up liking this book much more than I expected, much more than I did when I first began to read. I imagined that Charlotte Bronte lived a cloistered life akin to that of Emily Dickinson; however her experiences were much more far-reaching than I knew. I'm looking forward to reading Jane Eyre again, and I'm also planning to venture out to Charlotte Bronte's other works and will be looking up some actual biographies written about her. ★★★★★☆☆☆☆☆ (5/10)

Content:

Blood and gore: N/A

Sex: Very mild innuendos

Language: N/A