The New Work of Dogs

written by Jon Katz

Okay, okay, I know I just blogged about another dog book a couple entries ago. I can see all you cat people rolling your eyes and pursing your lips, and I promise that this blog will not become all dogs all the time. But when my librarian sister-in-law Michelle told me about this book I really wanted to investigate. Plus, something silly in me just couldn't resist a dog book written by a person named Katz.

It's a social commentary, not a novel — although some of the characters could easily be something out of strange fiction. Katz gives you a snapshot of several dog owners in and around the spendy suburb of Montclair, New Jersey. His intent is to illustrate anecdotally how we as a culture depend on these "social parasites" (his phrase, not mine) to fill all kinds of emotional and social needs that, once upon a time were fulfilled by other humans. No big surprise there, right? I mean, anyone who's ever loved a dog knows that these animals provide the kind of companionship that truly does earn them the nickname "man's best friend."

Some of the dog owners he shadows are downright pathological. Others are a bit more "normal" but reveal some of the foibles we've all seen in certain dog owners (and maybe in ourselves): for example, the lonely, childless dog owner who treats her canine as a surrogate child. Or the manly-man dog owner who connects easily and naturally with his gargantuan Labrador yet can't connect in a significant way with his wife or kids. Or the tireless dog-rescue lady who spends every spare moment and dime caring for discarded pets and finding them new homes. All of the dog lovers he describes, though, share a common dependence on dogs that begs some hard questions: Are dogs capable of filling the social and emotional expectations we have of them? Are we better off for forcing them into these roles? Are they?


Really cool elements:

• It's an interesting idea, this concept of dogs taking on a "new work" in our culture — where their job is to satisfy humans' social and emotional needs. In a postmodern society that no longer relies so much on family and other human relationships to cement our social network, I can totally see how dogs have found themselves filling an almost-human role. (Heck, look at me! I'm the one who acquired a family dog just weeks before my youngest kid started attending full-day school! Coincidence?)
• In his portrayal of a dog-rescue operation, Katz brings up a good point: howcome there are people out there who will lay down their very lives for dogs — showing mercy and acceptance even for animals who are aggressive and dangerous — yet we have trouble doing the same thing for people?
• Katz sends a message that it's not necessarily healthy to humanize our animals — to attribute all kinds of complex expression and emotion to a dog is to really make the dog into something bigger than life. It's a good reality check to remember that no, they really are animals. Beasts. Nice beasts, sure, but not people.
• Several stories in the book underscore the problem of "throw-away pets"—animals that are abandoned or mistreated because the owners had no idea what they were getting themselves into. I'm all for raising awareness of that problem, in the hopes that it might convince readers to adopt homeless animals rather than add to the problem by purchasing or breeding more dogs.

Not-so-cool elements:

• Katz believes that dogs really are not the fiercely loyal, undyingly loving creatures that many of us dog people make them out to be. In fact, he suggests that if your dog is separated from you for a couple weeks and is given a comfortable place to live and lots of food, he'll promptly forget you ever existed. I'm sorry, but Buster and I both object to that sentiment. :)
• There is an off-color statement near the end of the book that refers to physical training tools (such as choke-chains and invisible fences) as torturous. Katz even implies that those who use such tools are lazy and irresponsible pet owners. Now that felt pretty judgmental! I care for my dog, I walk him several times a day, and I do not take shortcuts in providing care for him. I would even go so far as to say I love my dog. I also know that, because of our proximity to a very busy road, I cannot risk him darting out of the yard after a rabbit or a squirrel. So I use an invisible fence. I won't defend here why I think it's appropriate, but suffice to say that not all pet owners who use them are lazy, irresponsible, or inhumane.

The Bean Trees

written by Barbara Kingsolver

A while back, I had read Kingsolver's The Poisonwood Bible and although I found parts of it disturbing and sad, I did like her writing and had sort of been wanting to read some more of her fiction. So I picked up this little beauty at the library, not knowing at first that it was in fact her first novel. As you might expect, the plot's definitely a little thinner than what you see in Poisonwood, but I must say, it's a witty and touching little story. Whimsical and entertaining, with just enough depth.

The book's narrated from the perspective of Taylor Greer, a young woman who leaves Kentucky (with almost no money and a car that's barely functional) to make her way in the world. Shunning the hillbilly lifestyle of many of her former classmates, some of whom ended up pregnant before their eighteenth birthdays, she figures she'll head west and see what kind of life she can make for herself. By the time she gets to Arizona, her new unfettered lifestyle has already come to an end. She has become, quite unexpectedly, the unofficial custodian of a mysterious, nameless, baby girl — the infant was hurriedly and desperately handed to her by a frightened Native American mother who obviously feared for the infant's safety.

The rest of the book is a story of resourcefulness, friendship, loyalty, and sacrifice. You follow Taylor as she develops some amazing relationships in her new surroundings and gets her bearings in the unfamiliar world of motherhood.

Really cool elements:

• I love first-person narratives where the protagonist is so colorful. And Taylor's youthful but streetwise manner is so entertaining and easy, you feel like you're sitting right there listening to her as she tells her story. I especially love her folksy grammar and vocabulary; it's kind of like a Junie B. Jones book for grownups.
• Taylor's friendship with Luann is just beautiful — a mirror image of the many real-life friendships among the zillions of women out there who find themselves in trying circumstances and help to hold each other up. Though I've never been in such dire straits as Taylor and Luann, I can definitely say that I've had some similar friendships that have seen me through some hard times.
• There is a heart-tugging side plot here about an immigrant-smuggling Good Samaritan and some of the things she teaches Taylor, by example, about doing the right thing and laying down your life for your friends.

Not-so-cool elements:

• I really wish there had been more closure to the story of Esperanza and Estevan, an immigrant couple that Taylor ends up helping to transport to safer territory. Their story became so intertwined with Taylors that I would've liked to know more about the outcome of their struggles.
• Am I beginning to relax my standards, or is it just a coincidence that I don't have much to whine about in the books I've read lately? No other complaints on this one!

Angela's Ashes

written by Frank McCourt

Wow. Just... wow. I had heard that this book was intense, and I had been wanting to read it for a while now, but oh my word. I was not prepared for how desperate Frank McCourt's Irish Catholic childhood was. It was so eye-opening, to read this man's very personal story of growing up in the poorest of poor slums in Limerick, Ireland.

The memoir chronicles the story of how Frank's parents met and married, his early years as the eldest child in an Irish immigrant family in New York, the family's return to Ireland, and the many desperate events and circumstances that characterized his life as he grew from boyhood into being a young man of his own.

In my opinion, it's an important book to read because most of us have no idea what it's like to live without comforts and trappings. But do be aware that the book has some unsavory explicit parts that aren't appropriate for younger readers.

Really cool elements:

• I admire McCourt for finding humor and joy in a most unexpected place: a childhood plagued by alcoholism, depression, loss, and astonishing poverty. Amazingly, though the book documents some very sad events, it doesn't really feel like a sad book. It's a beautiful testament to the resilience of the human spirit. I guess it's because the way McCourt chooses to muscle through his struggles, learning and growing all the while, rather than allowing them to define him and victimize him. I hope at the end of my life I can say that I did the same. (Though after reading his story, I have a hard time pointing to any area of my life that would qualify as hardship.)
• I've heard some complain that the book could be shortened by at least a few hundred pages because of the repetitive stories of McCourt's father's alcoholism. I disagree. I think to take out any of those portions of the book would be to downplay the severity of the disease and its impact on the family. Malachy McCourt struggled mightily to stay off the Guinness and hold a job, and though he seemed to love his family, his alcoholism made it impossible to provide for them, materially or emotionally. After knowing a few families who have been similarly broken by alcoholism, I'm all for McCourt telling it like it is, painful details and all.

Not-so-cool elements:

• McCourt writes the entire book from a child's point of view, which means the story is somewhat stream-of-consciousness, with very few complete sentences and only about half the required punctuation. If that kind of thing bugs you, you might find it kind of tedious to get through the book.
• Maybe I missed something, but I don't get the title. I know the book is as much about Frank's mother (Angela) as it is about himself, but where do the ashes come in? I guess I thought there would be something about his mom dying and him doing something with her ashes, but there's nothing like that. Or is the title a reference to the ashes of the Woodbine cigarettes she always smoked? Or maybe the cold ashes in the fire, since the family always lacked enough fuel to have a warm, cozy home? I don't know — I didn't see a strong enough connection to figure it out.
• The book ends kind of weird. The final installment in McCourt's memoir depicts him finally making his way back to America at age 19 to secure gainful employment. He immediately has a fling with a married woman, and that's the end of the book. It's not that I think he should gloss over this or pretend it didn't happen — this is a memoir after all, and if it happened, it happened — but it was such a disappointing ending. Is he implying that after all he's been through, he's really the boss of himself now and can do what he wants? Or that he's become enlightened enough to be above the church-manufactured sin/guilt complex that plagued him as a child? I don't know. I just know that I would've liked to see more profundity — some kind of significant parting statement, I guess — after such a provocative book. I wanted to find out more about whether he found fulfillment and purpose once he returned to America, and how he gained some closure to his fractured family relationships. But I guess that's what second books are for. Guess I have to add 'Tis to my library list...

Promise Me

written by Harlan Coben

This is apparently a revival of Coben's oft-used hero, Myron Bolitar. I haven't read any of Coben's previous books, but I do know that many people rave about the Myron Bolitar series.

The book opens with Bolitar telling two teenaged girls (one is the daughter of a friend) to call him if they ever find themselves in trouble or need a lift, especially to avoid riding with a drunk driver. Of course, one of them ends up taking him up on his offer, and he gives her a ride to her "friend's" house in the middle of the night. When she turns up missing the next morning, Myron (who was the last person known to be in contact with the girl) finds himself embroiled in a sticky police investigation in which he may be implicated for abduction. Suddenly a sports-agent-turned-crime-sleuth, Myron gets to the bottom of the mystery and pretty much saves the day.

Not-so-cool elements:

• Is it just me, or is the plot unnecessarily complicated by about a million different two-bit characters? And many of the characters are so over-the-top silly that they seem like caricatures. Almost like you're reading a comic book.
• Coben goes overboard with sexual references. Can't a book be intriguing without all the trash?
  
• Some of the lines in this book are just pure cheese. It's like the literary equivalent of a really bad Stephen Seagal movie. For example: "His worn blue jeans hung low, displaying enough plumber crack to park a bike." Sigh.
  
• I think a good mystery book should be at least halfway believable. This one just wasn't. The twist at the end felt particularly contrived.
  

Cool elements:

• I have to give Coben credit for the way he can hook a reader and maintain interest. Maybe he took lessons from James Patterson. Their books are like train wrecks -- you know they're horrible but you just can't look away.
  

Housebroken: Confessions of a Stay-at-Home Dad

written by David Eddie

This was another twenty-five-cent find at the library's used book sale. It caught my eye because Jay and I are good friends with a couple in which the dad is the stay-at-home parent. The book looked funny and I thought I might read it and pass it along to our friends.

Lesson learned: there's a reason why certain books are sold for only twenty-five cents at used book sales.

Well, no, actually this book isn't all bad. There are a lot of redeeming elements that are hilarious, touching, philosophical, even thought-provoking. There's also a surprisingly useful 20-page stretch in which the author pontificates about how to cook -- portions of which are, in fact, making me contemplate hanging onto the book instead of feeding it back into the book donation bin for the library's next used book sale.

Cool elements:

• If you are a stay-at-home parent (male or female, doesn't matter) you will find a lot of humor here. Eddie covers all the typical woes of parenting: sleep deprivation; disobedient children; kids' impact on your marriage; the mental toll of interacting with people under five years old, all day every day; the "what-do-you-do-all-day" question asked by well-meaning but clueless friends... and he does it in a way that you can really identify with. His style reminds me of a machismo version of the Girlfriends' Guide series of books by Vicki Iovine.
  

Not-so-cool elements:

• In too many places, Eddie tries just a little too hard to be funny. I got tired of hearing him prattle on, sometimes boastfully, about what a raunchy cad he was (and still would be, if it weren't for having children) in his pre-fatherhood days. In fact, it was annoying enough that I almost pitched the book after the first few chapters. It also caused me to decide not to pass the book on to our friends that I mentioned above. The good and funny parts are offset too much by the overly animated retelling of his days of womanizing, drug use, and general irresponsibility.
  

Marley & Me: Life and Love With the World's Worst Dog

written by John Grogan

This is a funny, sweet, poignant book. One that I devoured in just under two days -- which is a real feat, I assure you, considering how our willy-nilly summer schedule is busting at the seams with kids' activities, barbecues, beach outings, work commitments, houseguests, and of course everything that goes into doting on our own canine prince, Buster.

The book made me laugh and cry, sometimes simultaneously. This is, I think, because about a year ago I became a Dog Person. It's not that I didn't like dogs before that -- in fact, as a kid growing up in rural Dexter, I almost always had one of our family dogs by my side. Dogs occupy a well-deserved place in my long list of happy childhood memories.

But until July 2005 I had never had a dog of my own, as an adult. Never had a dog that depended on me and me alone for safety, food, shelter, and love. So it was with some serious deliberation that Jay and the kids and I added Buster to our family after studying his "please adopt me" posting on www.petfinder.org. We haven't looked back since. We are smitten with him, all of us.

So I know where John Grogan's coming from when he says, "A dog has no use for fancy cars or big homes or designer clothes. Status symbols mean nothing to him. A waterlogged stick will do just fine. A dog judges people ... by who they are inside. A dog doesn't care if you're rich or poor, educated or illiterate, clever or dull. Give him your heart and he will give you his... Sometimes it took a dog with bad breath, worse manners, and pure intentions to help us see."

Grogan really tells two stories in this book. One story is of a hilarious, crazy, misbehaved hundred-pound retriever and how he turns the life of his master into an unpredictable, embarrassing, expensive, messy labor of love. The other story is how man's best friend captures the heart of his master and teaches him a thing or two in the process.

Really cool elements:

• Naughty dogs like Marley are pretty funny all on their own. (Especially when they're not yours!) John Grogan's wonderful, easy style and storytelling ability make them even funnier. You will laugh out loud at some of the stories in this book. And if you've ever owned a naughty dog yourself, you will see yourself in many of these stories. You might even find that you too are part of what Grogan calls the "Bad Dog Club."
• Any pet owner knows that one of the most difficult parts of having a pet is coping with the eventual death of an animal that was a special and important part of life. The end of the book describes in tender detail -- with just enough levity to keep it from getting too depressing -- how the Grogan family worked through Marley's aging and death. It's really a pretty beautiful account of how a family deals with loss.
• Grogan gives ode to Marley's life by describing how he "was a central player in some of the happiest chapters in our lives... chapters of young love and new beginnings, of budding careers and tiny babies. Of heady successes and crushing disappointments, of discovery and freedom and self-realization. He came into our lives just as we were trying to figure out what they would become." I love how the story of Marley was inseparable from the story of this man's life: his marriage, his children, his work, his friendships. Dogs are like that. Dogs are just ... cool.

Not-so-cool elements:

• Being a Dog Person, I really can't think of anything in the book to complain about. Except for the fact that the story might be lost on Non-Dog People. So if you're not into dogs, you might want to just skim. I can see a Cat Person trying to get through this book and thinking, "Please. Do we really need to know about every couch-eating incident? Every embarrassing moment in the dog obedience class? Every instance of finding some bizarre foreign object in the piles that Marley deposited in the back yard?" If you're not into dogs, the book might feel a little like listening to some over-involved parent prattling on about their wonderful children, when anyone with eyes can see that the kids are little demons who would be better off at reform school.

A Walk in the Woods

written by Bill Bryson

There are few books that appeal to me enough that I read them multiple times. This is one of them. I think I've had a copy of A Walk in the Woods on my bookshelf since 1999 — not the same copy all that time, mind you, because I keep giving this book away and re-buying it. It's that good.

I know you're probably thinking that, since I kind of have a thing for hiking, any book about the Appalachian Trail would earn a permanent spot in my library. Not so. In fact, the only other AT book I own is the austere but sensible Appalachian Trail Data Book which, in 74 pages (each crammed with five narrow columns of 6-pt. font), lists every shelter, water source, road crossing, campsite, and other point of note along the 2200-mile Trail. Helpful, but not exactly something you keep on your nightstand for pleasure reading.

In the category of more prose-y AT books, there are lots of titles out there, and trust me, most of them aren't worth hanging onto — reason being, they're written by hikers who decide to try their hand at writing. Bill Bryson, on the other hand, is a writer who decides to try his hand at hiking. The result is a wonderfully easy read that gives you a taste of what it's like for an ordinary joe to attempt a very big hiking trip.

I hadn't read the book in a while but picked it up again earlier this summer, after returning from a seven-day hike on the Appalachian Trail through Great Smoky Mountains National Park. I was prompted to re-read it — this was probably my third or fourth time — because while hiking through Newfound Gap, another hiker remarked to me, "Hey, now we can say we've made it further than Bryson did." (Bryson abandoned his lofty ambition of "thru-hiking" the 2200-mile trail after the first few hundred miles.) Since the story details a lot of Bryson's impressions of the very section of the trail I had just finished, I really wanted to go back and compare his experience with mine.

The book tells of how Bryson first learns of the trail ("Not long after I moved to New Hampshire I happened upon a path that vanished into a wood on the edge of town..."), how he enlists the companionship of the wayward but loveable and out-of-shape Stephen Katz, and their colorful experiences as they seek to conquer "the granddaddy of long hikes."

Not-so-cool elements:

• Some AT purists out there would have you believe that since Bryson aborted mission after the first few hundred miles, he's a complete failure who has no business telling others what it's like to hike the Trail. These same people are usually the ones who also lose sleep over the fact that Katz commits the indecent act of unashamedly littering in the wild by flinging coffee filters, brown sugar, cheese, peanuts, and Spam into the woods in a desperate attempt to lighten his backpack. And! Bryson commits the equally egregious act of recounting all this as a string of wildly humorous anecdotes. To anyone upset by this, I must just say: Come. On. People. Not that I at all condone the mistreatment of our environment, but please. Lighten up. It's a book. And the guy is trying to be funny.
• If you're looking for a blow-by-blow guidebook-style account of everything you'd encounter on the AT if you hiked from the top of Springer Mountain to Newfound Gap, this isn't it. Having hiked the same stretch that Bryson did, it's interesting to notice not only what Bryson chose to include in his book, but also what he chose to omit. I guess it's evidence that, as my friends on Whiteblaze are fond of saying, everyone's gotta hike their own hike.
• Bryson is very critical of the National Park system and their efforts at conservation. I found this a little off-putting, especially after spending a fair amount of time hiking alongside park service employees who have laid down their very lives to care for the woods and the trail.
• Bryson is none too complimentary of southern culture. Being a Yank myself, I have to admit that I share some of his prejudicial impressions. Just know that if you live south of Cincinatti, it's likely that you'll take offense at some of the jabs he makes.
• The cover of the book leads you to believe there's a great bear story here. There isn't. The first time I read the book, I kept waiting to get to the part about the bear, and it never came. That did bug me some.

Really cool elements:

• Even if you've never hiked a mile in your life, you'll enjoy this book because so much of it is more about the human experience than about hiking, or about the AT. While Bryson wittily describes his foray into the wilderness, he also gently and humorously opens up all kinds of sensitive topics, including conservation of our fragile environment, our astonishingly sedentary culture, friendship, and loyalty. Even alcoholism gets some air time in this book. There's a lot more here than just a funny travelogue.
• If you've never been out in the wild for days on end, away from creature comforts, or if you've ever casually wondered, "How would it be to subsist on dehydrated food and Power Bars while walking up and down mountains until my feet resemble hamburger," this book is a great low-risk method of exploring such things. Though Bryson, like any author, takes some artistic license in his storytelling, his account of the AT is, in my estimation, pretty true to life.
• I love books that are funny and easy to read but still have interesting story lines and concepts that stretch one to think a bit. Bryson's satiric wit and Dave-Barry-ish writing style make this feel like an easy read. But he inserts enough societal and relational issues that you feel like it's also a good-for-you kind of book.

Airframe

Written by Michael Crichton

When I first started reading this novel, something about it felt suspiciously familiar. But since there are a slew of plane-crash disaster stories out there, I figured maybe I'd read something similar once. About halfway through, though, I realized that I had read this book, or at least part of it, maybe ten years ago. The details were hazy in my memory, and I don't think I ever finished it. Which should have been a warning sign. It's a pretty slow, lackluster story.

In a nutshell: a flight from Hong Kong to Denver unexpectedly starts "porpoising" — pitching violently up and then down several times. End result: four people dead, 56 injured. Casey Singleton, a nice, wholesome midwestern type who has managed to make her way to a VP position at Norton aircraft (the builder of the plane), is assigned the duty of investigating what went wrong. While she's unraveling the myriad of details related to the accident, a bitter labor dispute is brewing, and an investigative news program is trying to expose Norton as a negligent, money-hungry corporate beast that has no regard for passenger safety.

Really cool elements:

• I loved the way Crichton makes fun of the media. The television people in this story are of the "60 Minutes" variety. Crichton has some fun developing their characters as shallow, finger-pointing monsters who are only interested in sensationalizing the accident for the sake of their ratings.

Not-so-cool elements:

• There was an awful lot of technical detail, without much explanatory help for those of us who don't build or service airplanes. Lots of acronyms too (which I'm sure is reflective of real life in the airplane-building industry). Maybe I'm just not enough of a gearhead to get my brain around all the details, but I found it easy to get bogged down.
• Some of the subplots just end up going nowhere. For example, in the first half of the book, some of Norton's union thugs are out to get Casey; the company even assigns 24-hour bodyguards to trail her every move. But we never find out anything concrete about the thugs who lurk in the dark hangar corners, and we never hear any more about the guards (wouldn't they kind of have an impact on her daily life?)
• The ending really lacked punch. After 350 pages, I felt like I deserved a much more exciting explanation for why the plane nosedived.

3rd Degree

Written by James Patterson and Andrew Gross

Could someone please explain to me why I still read James Patterson? I guess you either love him or you hate him, and believe me, based on the last Patterson book I read, I was hesitant to start this one. But so many of his novels get such good reviews, I thought I'd give him another try.

This book was one of several I picked up at the Dexter Library's used book sale as potential reading material for my spring backpacking trip to the Smokies. Being an aspiring ultralight backpacker, I wanted a very light read — and I do mean that literally. This one made the cut because it weighed a few ounces less than the other options, according to the scale on my kitchen counter.

The story: Police Lieutenant Lindsay Boxer just happens to be jogging by a house as it blows up. She runs inside to perform a heroic rescue and then is the only one smart enough to figure out that a red backpack placed suspiciously near the house is connected to the bombing. (None of the fire/rescue/police personnel even notice this.) In the ensuing days, several related homicides follow, all linked by melodramatic messages from a mysterious perpetrator self-named "August Spies." One victim happens to be a close friend of Linday's; and since another friend of hers just happens to be the medical examiner, Lindsay stands around watching the autopsy. (Are you getting the feeling this story is slightly unrealistic? Wait, there's more.) Lindsay singlehandedly figures out the identity of the murderer, makes all the necessary arrests, and pretty much carries the world on her shoulders while still finding time to chat it up with her girlfriends at the coffee shop and snag the hottie from the Department of Homeland Security who swoops in from Washington to help with the case.

Not-so-cool elements:

• All the main characters in this book are female. You might think that's kind of cool at first, in a "you go girl" sort of way. But within the first 10 or so pages, you realize it's all just a contrived, patronizing attempt by Patterson to cash in on the women's book clubs who might be drawn to absolutely outlandish girl-power dramas.
  
• This is a very predictable, made-for-TV-type novel. Both the story and the characters are flat and unrealistic. There is just nothing inventive here. When you're through, you'll feel like you just read a glammed-up Hardy Boys mystery.

Really cool elements:

• If you're looking for a quick no-brainer that you can read anywhere, anytime, and still follow the plot effortlessly despite distractions, this is the book for you. And actually, it served that purpose pretty well when I took it on my backpacking trip! I was able to pick it up briefly each evening after an exhausting day of hiking, and just veg out a little bit while reading. I know I'm being kind of hard on Patterson in some of my criticisms, but isn't there a time and a place for silly novels? I think so.
  
• At least it's a low-risk read. I spent a whopping fifty cents to purchase this book used. A quick search of Amazon.com shows 288 copies available for $.01 each. (Does that not send a certain message? Kinda like walking into a restaurant that's absolutely empty at 7 p.m. on a Friday night?)
  

The Nanny Diaries

written by Emma McLaughlin and Nicola Kraus

Anyone who has ever smugly noticed the flaws in another person's parenting style (that includes pretty much all of us, right?) will find some enjoyment in this book. It's billed as a novel, but because the two authors spent a combined eight years working as real nannies for real Manhattan families, you know that there's more truth to this story than meets the eye!

To sum up the theme: a spunky, down-to-earth graduate student gets a job caring for the only child of a wealthy Park Avenue couple. The parents are condescending, dictatorial, and ungrateful toward the nanny, and they're coldly detached from their four-year-old son. Sounds like a somber story, I know. But the authors do a great job of picking on the upper-crustiness of the family, and wrapping it in such humor! The nanny's employers are just so rich and snooty (and their parenting shows it!), that you can't wait to keep uncovering more evidence of how they're completely out of touch with real life. Most of the anecdotes revolve around the wealthy, uptight mommy, who has way too much money and way too much time on her hands.

If you're a snobby Park Avenue parent, you'll probably be offended by this book. Everyone else will probably get some good laughs from it.

Really cool elements:

• For the most part, this is a quick, fun, easy read. Good choice for the beach or a vacation.
• Might seem like a minor point, but I liked how the main character in this story (the nanny) is named, intuitively enough, "Nanny." Similarly, the family for which Nanny works is called the "X" family — as in "I was hired by Mr. and Mrs. X to care for their 4-year-old son." Some will find this pretty cheesy, but I think the naming is a kind of cute way for the authors to send the message that they really are sharing some true-to-life stories and have genericized the names to protect those involved.

Not-so-cool elements:

• My major complaint — and it's a big one — is that, unlike most of the book, the ending was anything but funny. In fact, it might be so disturbing that you wish you hadn't read the book at all. The final chapter was abrupt, far-fetched, lacked closure, and felt quite mismatched to the rest of the story. Very disappointing, because the authors had built up such an entertaining groove by reveling in the parental sins of the X family, but then blew it by turning the plot dark and serious.
• A side story about Nanny's relationship with a young man felt like a cheap, raunchy afterthought to the main plot. Looked to me like a really lame attempt at baking in a "love interest" when none was needed.

The Queen's Fool

written by Philippa Gregory

I'm not usually one to read sequels or go on a book-series jag, but since I enjoyed The Other Boleyn Girl and had the next of Gregory's books on hand, I figured I'd pick it up. The Queen's Fool takes a little different approach to historical fiction, and I like it. Unlike in The Other Boleyn Girl, the main character, Hannah Verde, is completely fictitious, and she tells quite a story of her own. Along the way, she gets you into the court and you experience the dramatic turbulence of Queen Mary's reign, from her rise to power to her heartbroken end.

Hannah is a young Jewish girl who has fled to England from Spain with her father. While working in her father's printing business, she is noticed by Robert Dudley, a dashing and iconic court figure. Dudley brings Hannah to the court as a "holy fool" because Hannah has the gift of "sight" — a prophetic leaning which sometimes reveals to her future events or truths.

A little background to fill in the gap between the end of The Other Boleyn Girl and the beginning of The Queen's Fool: when Hannah comes to court, King Edward is on the throne. He is Henry VIII's only son and, too young and too sickly to rule the country, he is cared for and advised by protectors and counselors, of which Dudley's father is one. Edward's two half-sisters are Princess Mary — daughter of Queen Catherine, who Henry divorced in order to marry Ann Boleyn — and Princess Elizabeth — daughter of Ann Boleyn.

Hannah quickly gets caught up in a variety of toxic rivalries. She swoons over Dudley even while promised in marriage to a respectable Jewish boy of her father's choosing. She works as a spy for Dudley even while serving Queen Mary with devoted adoration. She later cares for Princess Elizabeth even though the princess is in a fierce battle with Mary for the throne and the heart of England.

Really cool elements:

• Knowing that the main character was decidedly fictitious, I felt less distracted by whether the book was historically accurate or not. I guess knowing that there's lots of fabrication freed me up a bit to just enjoy the story.
• Gregory keeps many plots going at once, but never so many that you get confused or lose interest. The book is surprisingly readable, considering the slew of characters and how much is going on among them. Being a romantic, I especially liked the story of Hannah's initial rejection of Daniel (her betrothed) and the way their relationship changes over the years into one of tolerance, then admiration and respect, and then beautiful, faithful love. And I liked how their story contrasts so starkly with the way love and relationships are portrayed among the royals.
• Though you can read this book and enjoy it without first reading The Other Boleyn Girl, I'm glad I read the two books in succession, because I liked how Gregory builds the character of Elizabeth to so strongly reflect Elizabeth's mother, Ann Boleyn. There's also a strong theme of sisterly rivalry that carries through both books, and I liked that too.
• The book does a great job of bringing out the fact that our allegiances and affections are often paradoxical. I appreciate that portrayal, because I think all of us are riddled with paradox — at least I know I am! For example, observing Hannah's admiration of Queen Mary, I'm reminded that it's possible to be a virtuous, powerful, gracious person (like Mary) on one hand — but on the other hand commit atrocious, hurtful, damaging acts of barbarism (also like Mary). And watching Hannah's volatile affections first for Lord Robert and later for Daniel, I'm reminded how I too seek independence and empowerment in my relationships — yet at the same time I expect to be cared for and protected.

Not-so-cool elements:

• Hannah's character was an awful lot like Mary Boleyn in Gregory's last book. Other than that, the only thing that was a little bothersome was that this novel wasn't so quick a read as The Other Boleyn Girl. In fact, I wasn't totally hooked till about the halfway point. Then it became hard to put down.

The Other Boleyn Girl

written by Philippa Gregory

I am normally not one to pick up a nearly-700-page book. My mother-in-law, however (who left this book here for me when she visited at Christmastime), assured me it would be a very quick read. How true! It took me about a week, start to finish, and it was certainly a captivating story.

Billed as historical fiction, the novel introduces the lesser-known Boleyn sister, Mary, and uses her voice to tell a tale of love, deceit, politics, and power struggles as it follows the Boleyn family's attempt to gain a foothold in the court of King Henry VIII. Stopping at nothing to win the King's favor, Mary's uncle, upon noticing Henry's interest in Mary, arranges for 14-year-old Mary to become Henry's mistress. (This despite the fact that two years prior Mary had been given in an arranged marriage to another man of the court, and Henry had been wed to Queen Katherine for many years.) After a few years of "bedding the King," Mary gets eclipsed by her sister Anne, a much more cunning and manipulative sort with greater worldly beauty and magnetism than the dignified but humble Mary.

What begins as Anne's attempt to elevate her family's station in the royal pecking order evolves into a more self-centered plot: she ultimately ousts the virtuous Queen Katherine — poisoning and blackmailing a few courtiers and royal counselors along the way — and becomes queen herself by marrying Henry. To her own chagrin, though, she is unable to produce what Henry ultimately wants from her: a male heir. And we all know what happens to her in the end.

Really cool elements:

• This book helped me understand why Britons are so taken with the drama and intrigue wrapped up in the royal family. It's kind of like the morbid fascination our country has (or had) with the wiles of the Kennedy family, only on a much grander scale. It's like politics as entertainment.
• I love the literary technique of re-telling a famous story through the perspective of a not-so-famous character...
• ...and what an an appealing character Gregory spins up in Mary! She's a spirited but helpless pawn, caught in perpetual competition with an evil sister and victimized by a male-centric social system. And though she's a privileged and refined member of nobility, eventually she chooses to marry for love (instead of class) once she decides she can make a break from the corrupt goings-on in the royal court. She loves her children fiercely, she serves and supports her family tirelessly, she accepts her lot in life with dignity and grace. You can't help but pull for her as you read.
• Though the story doesn't exactly match up flawlessly with history, the flavor you get for a life in the day of the Tudor dynasty is, I am told, pretty accurate. It's very eye-opening, this glimpse into royal culture. It sheds light on the moral and spiritual tumult that can result when a society pays blind devotion to a very fallible human being. It's a good lesson even for our culture — though our society no longer idolizes a king, as individuals we are sometimes tempted to ascribe undue power and influence to other fallible humans, like presidents, pastors, bosses, spouses, parents, teachers, whoever.

Not-so-cool elements:

• Don't make the mistake of thinking this book is a pure portrayal of real history. Spend twenty minutes Googling "Mary Boleyn," "Henry VIII," and "Anne Boleyn" and you'll find more than a handful of discrepancies between historians' beliefs and Gregory's novel. I realize that "historical fiction" by definition includes fabrications of real characters' feelings, conversations, etc. And I do know that some historical records are patchy enough that authors must exercise artistic license to fill in the gaps. But many of the details in Gregory's story contradict verifiable facts. For example, most historians believe Mary was at least 16 or 18 before being foisted upon King Henry by her family; Gregory's version puts her at barely 14. Also, history shows that Mary had no contact with her sister Anne during the final few years of Anne's life; Gregory's story has their lives tightly intertwined all the way up to the time of Anne's public execution. Even more interesting is what Gregory chooses to omit from her story: before Mary ever became bedfellows with Henry, she was mistress to the King of France! I will admit, though, that the incongruity between the book and reality doesn't really both me that much, because ultimately books like these give me an appetite to dig and research and discover truth — and that can only be a good thing.
• Gregory's story vehemently villanizes Anne Boleyn as a power-hungry monster with absolutely no moral boundaries, especially when it came to advancing her own position. Since I knew next to nothing about English history at the time I picked up this book, at first I assumed this portrayal was accurate. Only after reading some background information on the Boleyns did I find that Anne, even though she wasn't exactly a popular favorite among the English people, probably was wrongly accused of the adultery charge that led to her beheading. In fact, she is almost universally believed to have been a deeply religious person with very clear moral convictions. The same is true of her brother George, whose role in Gregory's novel wasn't exactly savory either.
• This is petty, but some of the sentence structures in this novel are horrid. Maybe it's just a cultural thing (the author is English) or maybe it's because she is emulating patterns typical in English writings from the 1500s. In any case, sentence fragments abound. For example: "We sat long over dinner, this court had become gluttons." What harm would there be in using a semicolon instead of a period in that sentence?

The Lincoln Lawyer

written by Michael Connelly

I borrowed this novel from my friend and co-worker Diane (I say co-worker because she doesn't like being called my boss, even though that's what she is!). Once she heard that I had read Consent to Kill, she left this book on my desk because it has similar themes of tension, action, and suspense. I started it around Christmas time but things got too busy with holiday stuff, and I had too many other parenting books and work-related reading material going, so I didn't really get too far into it till last week. After about fifty pages, I couldn't put it down and plowed through the rest in a matter of days!

The jacket of the book says that this is Michael Connelly's first legal thriller. That's hard to believe, considering the confidence with which he writes about courtroom goings-on and the criminal justice system. From the background information I've read about his writing and this book in particular, it appears he's quite a master of research, and I think he must've done a sugarload of it for this book. Not that I'd have any idea if his writing has any resemblance to real-life legal proceedings, but I like his easy style and he comes across at least as in-the-know as Grisham. (Whether that's saying something or not, I don't know!)

The story is told from the voice of Mickey Haller, a "bottom-feeding trial lawyer" whose livelihood involves getting criminals off the hook, whether they're truly innocent or not. In Haller's words, "The law was not about truth. It was about negotiation, amelioration, manipulation...my job was to peel away the paint and find the cracks...to make them so big that either the house fell down or, failing that, my client slipped through."

The book focuses on a "franchise case" in which Haller represents a wealthy young real-estate broker (Louis Ross Roulet) who's willing to pay big money for Haller to defend him. Roulet's being nailed for the assault and attempted murder of a prostitute, and all evidence points to no one but him. As the case unfolds, it becomes pretty obvious that Roulet is, as they say, guilty as sin — and the case at hand isn't his only offense. As Haller learns of the depth of Roulet's history, Haller himself gets pulled into a tangled web through a set-up in which Roulet makes it appear that Haller actually committed a heinous crime. The remainder of the book portrays how Haller manages to defend a client who now has the potential to ruin Haller's life and career.

Really cool elements:

• Okay, by now you know I'm a sucker for a book that's not afraid to do a little moralizing. Though Haller's certainly no saint, I like how Connelly weaves in themes of true justice, and in the process (especially in the ending of the book), reveals that even a bottom-feeding trial lawyer has a conscience.
• Though some of the stuff that happens is a little predictable, there are a few twists toward the end that will surprise you. Or at least they surprised me. I love that.
• The last 150 pages (the book has about 400 pages total) describe the courtoom proceedings for the Roulet case. If you had told me that before I picked up this book, I would've never opened it up. I'd have assumed that even 20 pages —much less 150! — focusing on courtroom stuff would've bored me silly. But Connelly keeps it all very fast-moving and engaging, and I had no trouble staying interested. (This, I'm sure, is where his story-telling differs wildly from real-life litigation!)

Not-so-cool elements:

• Not much to crow about. Some gratuitous swear words and stuff like that, but nothing you wouldn't expect out of a legal thriller.