The Child’s Child by Barbara Vine

Synopsis:
While working on her PhD thesis on unmarried mothers in British literature, a young woman finds disturbing parallels between a violent work of fiction from the mid-20th century and her own life living with her gay brother.

Review:
Everything I love about Barbara Vine is present in The Child’s Child: a haunting atmosphere, complicated characters, and a sense of urgency to the storytelling that has nothing to do with a jam-packed plot.

The book opens with Grace, a PhD candidate living a peaceful life with her gay brother Andrew, until her brother invites his boyfriend to move in with them. Grace and James don’t get along, and he’s especially scornful of her thesis work exposing the plight of the unwed mother in English history. He says that the unwed mothers suffered nowhere near as badly as gay men were, and won’t hear anything to the contrary. Things get worse when Andrew and James witness the fatal beating of a friend upon exiting a gay club.

Grace decides to take a break from her thesis to read an unpublished manuscript called “The Child’s Child,” written by an ancestor of James’s who had published many critically acclaimed works. Because this book touched openly on homosexuality, it was never even considered for publication. Grace has been asked to read it to see if it could be published now. The story is that of Maud, a young women who falls pregnant at the age of 15 in WWII England. Her secretly gay older brother steps in with an unorthodox plan to save her, but that plan becomes the undoing of both of them and has repercussions for everyone around them.

The book-within-a-book is especially enthralling because it feels like Vine is channeling Patricia Highsmith, writing the book that Highsmith, herself a lesbian, could never have written in her own day. It’s so dark and tricky and hermetic and Vine does it exceptionally well. I was less satisfied by the framing story, which felt unfinished when the book was ended. So it’s not my favorite book by Vine, but I enjoyed it immensely.

Real Sex by Lauren Winner

Synopsis:
An exploration of the meaning of chastity in the 21st century.

Review:
Real Sex is an excellent companion piece to Anna Broadway’s Sexless in the City. Winner offers a larger cultural and historical context for Broadway’s desire to live chastely, and has some ideas about why Broadway expresses some disappointment in the way she has been taught by the church to think about sex.

Winner’s analysis is thoughtful and well-researched, and is worth reading even by those who don’t hold the same beliefs in the importance of chastity as Winner.

Loose Girl by Kerry Cohen

Synopsis:
An autobiography of a promiscuous life.

Review:
The most striking thing about Kerry Cohen’s Loose Girl is the inevitability of her misbehavior. Cohen’s parents divorced when she was a preteen, and neither one seems able to practice any kind of responsible or involved parenting. Her dad is the kind of guy who asks for a toke when he catches his daughter and her friends getting high, and her mother is a gynecologist who prescribes abortion pills for Cohen without even an office visit. Both parents exhibit some very creepy boundary-crossing behavior. The only surprise here is that worse didn’t happen to Cohen.

As the mother of a daughter who reads a lot of stuff like this, I’m well aware of the pitfalls facing girls and young women navigating today’s world. I really hope that Superfast Husband and I can provide the kind of home where she will feel safe and secure to explore her independence–take risks without engaging in self-destructive behavior.

Cohen’s life was a misery, until she (hopefully) managed to break her pattern. Loose Girl is a sad, sobering read that sheds a lot of light on the inner pain of such a free spirit.

Sexless in the City by Anna Broadway

Synopsis:
The misadventures of a hapless twenty-something woman whose greatest fear is that she will die a virgin, and whose second greatest fear is that she’ll have sex before marriage.

Review:
I’ll let you know up front that there’s no way that I can be objective about Sexless in the City, because Anna Broadway met the woman who bought her book in my very living room. (Yes, I am Blogyenta, formerly known as Girlfriend #6.)

Reading Anna’s book was like sitting down to have a good long talk. We used to do this all the time, but then she decided that she could no longer resist the call to California, and off she went. Thankfully she’s great about keeping in touch, and made sure to come and meet Superfast Baby when she was in town a few months ago. Anna’d also honored me be asking my opinion on many a key section of the book, so there wasn’t much that was unfamiliar to me. Knowing how hard she fought to tell the truth, even when it painted her in a less than flattering light, I’m pleased to see that the end result is something of which she can be truly proud.

So congratulations, Anna! We miss you *kiss*

Sexless in the City–Win a Free Copy!

My dear friend Anna Broadway‘s book Sexless in the City is coming out on Tuesday, April 15th.

I’m so thrilled for Anna, who met the editor who bought her book in my very living room! I’ve read some sections of it and it’s just great.

So how do you win a copy? Easy–just blog about it. Mention the soundtrack and get a second entry.

Even if you don’t win, I hope you’ll check this book out.

The Fair Folk edited by Marvin Kaye

Synopsis:
An anthology of short stories about elves.

Review:
The Fair Folk was put together in 2005 by the Science Fiction Book Club, and consists of stories written about elves and their kin from some luminaries in the field. I enjoyed each one immensely, differing as they do in style and tone.

“UOUS” by Tanith Lee takes the familiar “three wishes” story and turns it on its head. An unhappy Cinderalla-esque young woman calls out three wishes, conjuring a fairy who is more than happy to comply with her request. However, thanks the the usual caveat to be careful how you wish for something, Lois finds herself on the giving, not receiving, end of the wishes. Lee employs an engaging first-person point of view filled with dry humor and wry wit.

“Grace Notes” by Megan Lindholm employs a contemporary setting to tell the story of an urban man visited by a brownie, a housecleaning sprite who can’t be eradicated unless given clothing. Think JK Rowling’s house elves. At first glance, it hardly seems likely that one would want to kick out someone who happily cleans your apartment and cooks you dinner, but Lindholm’s protagonist finds himself wishing for a way out–and unable to come up with the right gift.

Kim Newman, the author of “The Gypsies in the Wood,” is a new author to me. His story is set in Victorian England, and reminded me very much of Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrell by Susanna Clarke. The story revolves around the abduction of two children, both of whom were returned to their family. However, the boy came back many years older than he should have been, and the girl came back without memories of certain family traditions. Those predisposed to believe in such things suspect that changelings are involved, but it’s not until a grisly murder in a funhouse designed to be the land of Faerie that the investigation is brought to a close.

“The Kelpie” by Patricia McKillip is set amongst a circle of artists patterned after the Pre-Raphaelites. I loved the story McKillip crafted, rife with jealousies and intrigue and artistic inspiration. The kelpie, or sea-horse, doesn’t take center stage; rather, it’s a catalyst for the love story at the tale’s heart.

Craig Shaw Gardner’s “An Embarrassment of Elves” and Jane Yolen and Midori Snyder’s “Except the Queen” left me cold. The first is a comedy, and that’s a mode I have very little patience with when married to fantasy. The latter is told through letters written between two disgraced fairy sisters. The writing was beautiful, but I just couldn’t get into the story.

The anthology closes with a glossary of different types of elves. The Fair Folk is a great collection with anyone who has an interest in folklore.

Marjorie Morningstar by Herman Wouk

Synopsis:
A headstrong Upper West Side yearns to escape her family’s Jewish Bronx origins and become a Broadway star.

Review:
This is the third or fourth time I’ve read Marjorie Morningstar, and every time I find myself absolutely riveted for the first two-thirds, then bored and indifferent for the final third, only to be knocked out by the epilogue. The book is rich with details and some astonishing set pieces–such as Seth’s bar mitzvah–but it’s hollow at the core. It’s as if author Herman Wouk gets tired of Marjorie’s adolescent angst, and all of a sudden the book puts on Mom’s high heels and pearls–and they’re just too big. Continue reading

The Raw Shark Texts by Steven Hall

Synopsis:
A young man with severe amnesia comes to realize that he is being stalked by a conceptual shark (which is much, much scarier than you might think).

Review:
What surprised me most about The Raw Shark Texts was how fast it moved. For all its high-minded metaphysical aims and experimental underpinnings, the book has the pacing of an airport thriller or Stephen King horror book. There were some sequences in this book, such as protagonist Second Eric’s Sanderson encounter with Nobody, that were are frightening as anything I’ve ever read. Continue reading

Last Night in Paradise by Katie Roiphe

Synopsis:
A look at sexual mores in the age of AIDS.

Review:
I like a good polemic as much as the next person, particularly when it involves people having lots of sex, mostly because I always feel like that’s nice work if you can get it. Last Night in Paradise isn’t hard-hitting investigative journalism as much as it’s an apologia for all the sex that Roiphe and her friends had in the 80s and 90s: “look, we may have slept around but we are always scared we got AIDS, so that doesn’t make us sleazy like swingers in the 1970s.” Roiphe herself calls this a kind of Puritanism, yet she succumbs to it in almost every chapter, talking about how she herself worries that she’s slept with too many people, or wondering whether or not she and her friends can handle the emotional ramifications of all that “safer sex.” She never quite seems to leave the Upper East Side private school world that she herself came from, and tends to see her experiences as representative of the general population. Her astonishment that anyone would voluntarily choose abstinence belies her inability to consider that there are other perspectives on sex than her own. Continue reading

Season of the Witch by Natasha Mostert

My review is up at Blogcritics.org–here’s the first paragraph:

It’s tough to make intellectuals sexy, but Natasha Mostert, a London-based South African novelist, pulls it off in Season of the Witch, her newest novel and a tour de force of Gothic eroticism that seduces from start to finish without reprieve.