The protagonist is the SAHM of two young children and she is struggling with the tedium and inexorability of motherhood. McLarin describes it with painful accuracy; anyone who has ever been driven batty by the daily demands of a three-year-old will surely recognize themselves in this book. Of course she fantasizes about running off and abandoning them. What SAHM hasn’t?

Fortunately Jump at the Sun isn’t just about the daily demands, etc. It also has history, flashbacks, sociology & race relations, life, death, marriage, and lots of other good stuff. But it is mainly about parenting, and if you’re a bookish introvert who has ever chafed at the bonds of motherhood you will definitely appreciate this novel. You might not love it. The plot twists were a little too convenient, and the language at times was a little unbelievable (okay she’s an academic, but does that really give her the right to use the word enchiridion to describe a parenting book?). But you will definitely appreciate it.

I mooched this book from April Boland after reading about it on her Sunday Salon post. It’s a retelling of the story of Abraham and Sarah, with a twist: the story is narrated alternately in the third person from Sarah’s point of view, and in the (omniscient?) first person, by God.

God is by far the most interesting character in the book. God is “only human” in a lot of ways; he (she?) experiences confusion, jealousy, loneliness, love, desire, dismay. And what I liked most is that the author has come up with a completely coherent explanation for God’s actions, all the way up to the sacrifice of Isaac. Whatever your religious beliefs, there is lots of food for thought here.

Where this book falls short? Alas, in the storytelling department. I found myself wishing for more detail, more color, more description, more dialogue, more showing and less telling. A lot of the time I felt like I was reading an essay rather than a novel.

Garden Spells, by Sarah Addison Allen

I read two reviews of this book, one glowing and the other vitriolic. Of course, I failed to bookmark either one, and now I can’t find them. Needless to say, I was sufficiently intrigued by the two extremes that I felt like I really should read it myself.

This was quite a contrast with Only Human. No problems in the storytelling department here! It’s a light romance, with a bit of magic. Lots of color, detail, dialogue, action. Totally predictable plot, but don’t all light romances have totally predicable plots? The fun is in the charming characters, the “garden spells,” the humor, the quirkiness. This book certainly won’t change your worldview, but it’s a nice way to spend a rainy afternoon. Two thumbs up. :-)

This too was a terrifically entertaining good read. These stories are all set in the same world (more or less) as Strange & Norrell, and they are written in the same style and with the same sly humor and even with some of the same characters. If you liked Strange & Norrell you’ll definitely like this. If you tried to like Strange & Norrell but found it too long and rambling, well, you just might like this anyway.

Now I must admit I approached this book with some trepidation, not because I didn’t like Strange & Norrell, but because I don’t usually like short stories. I try, but I always feel like I’m missing something, especially the kind of stories that are (I guess) meant to show a slice o’ life and don’t have much plot. I have thought a lot about why this is and one of the conclusions I’ve come to is this: I don’t know when the story is going to end. With a novel you can tell “where you are” by how many pages you have left. I don’t mean this as a “gee only fifty more pages and I’m done” kind of thing. Rather, it’s being able to comprehend the structure of the story. Knowing “where I am” helps me to appreciate the writer’s craft, I think. And with a short story in a collection, unless it’s the last one in the book, I often feel like I’m flying blind.

I used to read tons of science fiction short stories and I never felt like I was flying blind. And I didn’t feel that way with The Ladies of Grace Adieu either. I enjoyed them one hundred percent, with no worries that a story would end unexpectedly. I believe this is because these faerie tales (like sci fi shorts) follow a very conventional plot arc, with an obvious beginning, middle, and end, and often with typical fairy tale plot twists like things coming in sets of three. From the very beginning of the story you know there’s going to be build-up, tension, and a satisfactory resolution. Voilà!

Now, I don’t think that a short story has to have a conventional plot arc in order for me to like it. I think maybe I would appreciate more “literary” short stories if I could just know “where I am” while I’m reading them. I suppose I could place a bookmark at the end of the story, but I don’t think that’s as good as simply being aware of the thickness of the stack of remaining pages. A bookmark would require conscious checking.

I recently subscribed to One Story. It’s a little magazine that publishes a single short story at a time, one every three weeks. I received the first one (haven’t read it yet) and it’s exactly as advertised: it’s simply a cute little pamphlet that contains nothing but the one story. No ads, nothing. And because it’s just the one story, I’ll always know “where I am,” even if the story turns out to be a slice o’ lifer with no plotline. So, heh heh, I can test my hypothesis.

What do you think? Do you like short stories?

The first book was Magic Street, by Orson Scott Card. Now the thing about Orson Scott Card is, he only writes one story. I know this because over the years I have read practically everything of his that I could find, including even his Mormon fiction. OSC is a storytelling genius. His pacing, structure, narrative, tension & resolution, are superb. I’ve never felt disappointed by an ending or annoyed by plot loopholes. Some of his imagery and ideas have profoundly affected my worldview. (Some of his other ideas make me want to plug my ears and sing “la la la, I can’t hear you, I can’t hear you,” but that’s a topic for different post.) However, the fact remains that he only writes one story, and his cast of characters is limited. Ender is Alvin Maker is Nafai is Bean — close your eyes and you can’t tell one voice from another. Make a list of the main themes of each novel and they’re the same too. He is very big on: ethics, personal responsibility, the nature of “community,” what it means to be a leader. It doesn’t matter whether the setting is hardcore sci-fi, alternate history, high fantasy, a retelling of the Book of Mormon, or, in Magic Street, a present-day middle-class black neighborhood in Los Angeles that’s infested with faeries. The story is the same.

The story is the same, but it’s a really good story, and I for one don’t mind reading it over and over again. And I was really interested to see what he would do with this particular plot hook. First, and this is a very interesting issue not just for OSC but for any writer: his setting, the middle-class black neighborhood in LA, is one that he obviously has absolutely no personal experience of. Is it brave or foolhardy of him to write about it? It’s not as though we see it through the eyes of an outsider; all the characters in the story (the human characters, that is) are actual residents of the neighborhood. To OSC’s credit, though, I completely stopped worrying by the time I was about two chapters in. And even more to his credit, he gives a very satisfactory explanation for his choice of setting in the acknowledgements.

I was also really interested to see how he would handle the faeries. I would not have thought the fey would be a good vehicle for OSC, since (forgive the geeky D&D jargon) they are so chaotic and he is so lawful. Not to mention the fact that they are so Celtic and he is so American! Well, I must admit he didn’t do such a good job with this. The faeries definitely had a lawful cast of mind and they felt very American, too. I suppose that if you can accept the idea of faeries in LA, you could also accept that they might gravitate towards leather and motorcycles. I was fine with this myself, but purists might not be.

All in all, this book was extremely entertaining. If you like Orson Scott Card, and if you’re not too picky about your faeries, you will definitely like this.

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Welllllll… I had originally intended to write a comparison of two different books about faeries. I didn’t realize I would have this much to say about the first one. I think I’ll leave the second one for a separate post.

But Matrimony was different. Different, because I know the author in real life! He was a good friend of my sister’s — the last time I saw him was at her wedding — so of course I was delighted when he contacted me and offered to send me a copy.

The embarrassing fact is, it was hard for me to focus on the actual story. Much of the book takes place in my own hometown of Ann Arbor, Michigan. I was born and raised here. I live here now. I lived here during the time that the Ann Arbor part of the book takes place (early 90s). One of the main characters is a graduate student in clinical psychology — my dad’s department! The very street I grew up on, where my parents still live, is mentioned in the book. And if that’s not enough for you? He relates a friend-of-a-friend anecdote that I also told on this very blog (the greatest waitstaff goofup of all time). Needless to say, I found all this very distracting — in the best possible way, but still, distracting. I suppose people who live in cities like New York City or Paris or London are used to reading novels set in places they know like the back of their hand, but for me it was a charming novelty.

So, anyway. Matrimony is probably not a book I would have chosen to read on my own. The genre, Contemporary Adult Fiction About Love & Relationships, is not my favorite. However, even aside from the setting and personal connection with the author, I must admit that it was fun to read about characters who are the same age as me (40ish), with similar backgrounds (caucasian, privileged and sheltered) and education (fancy small liberal arts college). It’s easy to turn our noses up at this demographic, but Josh never does. He treats his characters with respect even as they muddle up their lives and make bad choices. And he brings the story to a satisfying conclusion without wrapping it up too neatly. If you like contemporary novels about love, marriage, growing together and apart, and coming of age, I would certainly recommend Matrimony.

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Have you ever read a novel written by someone you knew? Ever read one that takes place in your hometown? Was it weird for you too?