Reading 2017: Memorable Fiction Part 1
I enjoy novels that are beautifully written, that ennoble the reader, or that broaden the reader's perspective. I'm happy to report that I read many such books this year, so many, that this is only the first of 2 installments about the memorable fiction I read in 2017.
I've already mentioned Jon Hassler's Staggerford, which stays with me because it all resonates as true: the obsessions of the characters, the conversations in school hallways, the complications when two cultures come together. I haven't yet read anything else by Jon Hassler, but I'd love to read something else of his this year.
My college friend Cassie once mentioned to me how accurately Willa Cather described the prairie in My Antonia; that was enough to provoke me to read the book. (Interestingly enough, Antonia is Czech.) I haven't reread that since I moved to the Czech Republic, but this year I read her Oh, Pioneers! and The Song of the Lark. I found both moving, not least because the power of the setting. In addition to her ability to create a strong sense of place, Cather's characters are unique and complex, and there is always a sympaticky character in the book, someone the reader resonates with and roots for. I appreciated that in both books, the path of the characters wasn't clear, and I appreciated that in The Song of the Lark, a "minor" character reappears in the final scenes, perhaps recasting who is and isn't significant in one's life. I also read L'Engle's early novel Ilsa, and at the beginning the style reminded me very much of Willa Cather, though I didn't find the resolution very satisfying.
If characterization is to become a theme of why books attract me, Elizabeth Strout's Olive Kitteridge must be mentioned. I'm the kind of person who gets tricked into thinking that the person who tells the story (when told in 1st person) is the most important in the story. (How very self-centered of me.) So when the perspective shifted (and then continued to shift), I was a bit surprised, and I realized this book wasn't going to follow my initial expectations. A more observant person might have noticed the title of the book. Through various voices and times, we hear different stories about the community in which Olive Kitteridge lives. The stories are often not centred on her, but she always appears or is mentioned, and we get another hint about who Olive Kitteridge is. I was so impressed with it because it captures life so astutely. Our lives touch others' in moments and years, and each person we rub shoulders with gets some glimpse into who we are, yet none of these glimpses are complete in and of themselves. Even those who know us best don't know us completely.
Another book that rang true was Amy Tan's The Joy Luck Club. The first and only other book of her's I've read was her memoir The Opposite of Fate; as such, perhaps my impulse to read the book as memoir wasn't so far-fetched. Living in a different culture than that within which I grew up allows me to resonate with both the mothers who left China and the daughters who grow up in America with Chinese parents. I also felt tension as I wondered what my own daughter will experience growing up with an American mother in the Czech Republic. I found this to be an exceptional book in many aspects: the dialogues, the structure, the stories. It was moving, effective, sad, funny, and memorable. The dialogues especially were on pointe: whether funny, embarrassing, or gut-wrenching.
Another book that rang close to home in a completely different way was Crossing to Safety, a book I heard about courtesy of the What Should I Read Next podcast (which you all should subscribe to). This book was unnerving because one of the central characters is named Charity. (That's my first name, if you didn't catch on.) The book chronicles a lifelong friendship between two couples: Sid & Charity, Sally & Larry. Larry narrates the book, which jumps in time and space, highlighting key moments in their friendship. Somehow the story is compelling, though as Stegner himself writes within the book, there is no big explosion of jealousy or some affair between the couples. Another aspect I appreciated was the author's references to nature in the book; these references were always specific, and I found myself looking up some unfamiliar plants as I read. I definitely would like to check out more by Stegner. This was his final novel.
Another book that sent me googling plants was Vanessa Diffenbaugh's The Language of Flowers. I may have hesitated to add this to this list, but it definitely was memorable, for two main reasons: the Language of Flowers and the experience of a girl in the foster system. The Language of Flowers is a now defunct method of communication used in the Victorian era. Each flower was assigned a meaning (or sometimes multiple), and when that flower was given or received, a message was transferred. As we meet Victoria, the central character, we soon see she has a surprising knowledge of flowers and their meanings. She's grown up in foster care, and the system leaves her raw and distrustful. The book jumps between her at 18 and at 8 years old, revealing bits of her past and explaining how she came to know so much about flowers. As a nature lover (but neither gardner nor botanist), I loved the new information I gained in the book. As a human, I found the story distressing, and had to finish it in the middle of the night because I was so anxious that there was no way I would be able to fall asleep without some resolution.
I've already mentioned Jon Hassler's Staggerford, which stays with me because it all resonates as true: the obsessions of the characters, the conversations in school hallways, the complications when two cultures come together. I haven't yet read anything else by Jon Hassler, but I'd love to read something else of his this year.
My college friend Cassie once mentioned to me how accurately Willa Cather described the prairie in My Antonia; that was enough to provoke me to read the book. (Interestingly enough, Antonia is Czech.) I haven't reread that since I moved to the Czech Republic, but this year I read her Oh, Pioneers! and The Song of the Lark. I found both moving, not least because the power of the setting. In addition to her ability to create a strong sense of place, Cather's characters are unique and complex, and there is always a sympaticky character in the book, someone the reader resonates with and roots for. I appreciated that in both books, the path of the characters wasn't clear, and I appreciated that in The Song of the Lark, a "minor" character reappears in the final scenes, perhaps recasting who is and isn't significant in one's life. I also read L'Engle's early novel Ilsa, and at the beginning the style reminded me very much of Willa Cather, though I didn't find the resolution very satisfying.
If characterization is to become a theme of why books attract me, Elizabeth Strout's Olive Kitteridge must be mentioned. I'm the kind of person who gets tricked into thinking that the person who tells the story (when told in 1st person) is the most important in the story. (How very self-centered of me.) So when the perspective shifted (and then continued to shift), I was a bit surprised, and I realized this book wasn't going to follow my initial expectations. A more observant person might have noticed the title of the book. Through various voices and times, we hear different stories about the community in which Olive Kitteridge lives. The stories are often not centred on her, but she always appears or is mentioned, and we get another hint about who Olive Kitteridge is. I was so impressed with it because it captures life so astutely. Our lives touch others' in moments and years, and each person we rub shoulders with gets some glimpse into who we are, yet none of these glimpses are complete in and of themselves. Even those who know us best don't know us completely.
Another book that rang true was Amy Tan's The Joy Luck Club. The first and only other book of her's I've read was her memoir The Opposite of Fate; as such, perhaps my impulse to read the book as memoir wasn't so far-fetched. Living in a different culture than that within which I grew up allows me to resonate with both the mothers who left China and the daughters who grow up in America with Chinese parents. I also felt tension as I wondered what my own daughter will experience growing up with an American mother in the Czech Republic. I found this to be an exceptional book in many aspects: the dialogues, the structure, the stories. It was moving, effective, sad, funny, and memorable. The dialogues especially were on pointe: whether funny, embarrassing, or gut-wrenching.Another book that rang close to home in a completely different way was Crossing to Safety, a book I heard about courtesy of the What Should I Read Next podcast (which you all should subscribe to). This book was unnerving because one of the central characters is named Charity. (That's my first name, if you didn't catch on.) The book chronicles a lifelong friendship between two couples: Sid & Charity, Sally & Larry. Larry narrates the book, which jumps in time and space, highlighting key moments in their friendship. Somehow the story is compelling, though as Stegner himself writes within the book, there is no big explosion of jealousy or some affair between the couples. Another aspect I appreciated was the author's references to nature in the book; these references were always specific, and I found myself looking up some unfamiliar plants as I read. I definitely would like to check out more by Stegner. This was his final novel.
Another book that sent me googling plants was Vanessa Diffenbaugh's The Language of Flowers. I may have hesitated to add this to this list, but it definitely was memorable, for two main reasons: the Language of Flowers and the experience of a girl in the foster system. The Language of Flowers is a now defunct method of communication used in the Victorian era. Each flower was assigned a meaning (or sometimes multiple), and when that flower was given or received, a message was transferred. As we meet Victoria, the central character, we soon see she has a surprising knowledge of flowers and their meanings. She's grown up in foster care, and the system leaves her raw and distrustful. The book jumps between her at 18 and at 8 years old, revealing bits of her past and explaining how she came to know so much about flowers. As a nature lover (but neither gardner nor botanist), I loved the new information I gained in the book. As a human, I found the story distressing, and had to finish it in the middle of the night because I was so anxious that there was no way I would be able to fall asleep without some resolution.
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