Second Chances, New Value

By Jodie Cain Smith 

With the onset of each year, I begin a new reading challenge. Last year, I promised to read and review one friend’s book each month. I admitted defeat by July. This year, I am off to a much better start. What was my challenge as I chose to accept it? Clear the shelf. In twelve short months I will read every abandoned book in my office.

The cast-offs get a second chance. Why not look for value in every book an agent, publisher, and editor chose to devote time and money? At some point in time, I assigned a value to each and coughed up the cash at the register only to allow it to collect dust. Most importantly, the author, possibly a first-timer as I was in 2014, felt that she or he had to write that particular story at that particular time in life and put his or her name in bold print on the cover.

With the image of my face, presumably crushed if someone were to look at me and say, “I started your book, but never finished it,” I began this year’s challenge. With nearly three abandoned books now in the “finished” pile, I declare their value.

All Fall Down by Jennifer Weiner: I have loved every novel in Ms. Weiner’s vast catalogue until now. This one proved I am not as sympathetic as I thought. The protagonist’s tale of a drug-addicted, suburban wife and mother left me thinking, “For God’s sake, wet blanket, get it together!” Her trials weren’t big enough for me to justify her actions. Along with gaining insight into personal shortcomings, the value I found was to apply the same critical eye to my own protagonists. Will future readers accuse mine of being wet blankets? Are their trials more than drivel and whining, their stakes high enough? Will the reader sympathize?

Out of Oz by Gregory Maguire: This 563 page novel of tiny print and a vocabulary so immense I swear Maguire made up several words, provided new descriptors, inventive sentence structure, and complex storytelling, but I questioned MacGuire’s ending. Maguire’s ending fell flat and felt far too ambiguous for such a dramatic tale. After I turned the final page, a question formed. Should writers bring their stories to satisfying conclusions for the readers’ sakes or let their characters dictate endings no matter audience expectations? For me, I believe the answer lies in knowing and writing my characters so well that the story leads to one definitive conclusion.

A Grief Observed by C.S. Lewis: Purchased three years ago as research, I abandoned it after twenty pages because Lewis’ journal entries of the months following his wife’s death are so raw, I couldn’t handle his pain. Now, I’ve returned to it to ensure the grief I speak of in my current project is realistic and respectable of the process. I also feel that out of admiration for his talent, I must finish Lewis’ most personal work.

I challenge each of you to shop your own shelves. Let me know what value you find hidden between the dusty pages of your abandoned books.

My Letter to a Television Titan

By Kimberly Johnson

Dear Regis,
I miss you, man.
I miss our morning chit chat sessions. First with Kathie Lee, then with Kelly.
I miss our trivia games and our trips to the Caribbean.
I miss our eye-rolling digs at Gelman.
I miss our witty repartee with the entertainment elite: Clooney, Paltrow, Pitt, Washington.

So, when Gelman, Art, and the rest of the gang compiled a week-long farewell, I cried a little. The tears dried when I read your memoir, How I Got This Way. With a smile, I read how famous people (Bing Crosby, Don Rickles, and Joey Bishop to name a few) and not-so-famous people (Major Rankin and Major Flake, USMC) made indelible footprints on your life. As always, I enjoyed the poignant tales about your youthful days at Notre Dame.

The best part of the book, Reeg, is all that advice. I loved the way you dropped some serious knowledge about your interaction with each person you write about. It really goes to show that you can learn something from someone as you go through this long and winding road we call—Life.

Here are some keepers from selected chapters:
Chapter 14: Recounts your admiration for Notre Dame’s Coach Leahy: “Remember, whatever or whoever inspires or moves you enough to give you goose bumps at the time is very likely to mean more than you know over time.”

Chapter 18: Describes your optimism about Kelly Ripa: “People who sparkle tend to make you sparkle, too, when they’re near.”

Chapter 19: Showcases your takeaway from being around Donald Trump: “The bigger you build your dreams, the more likely you are to take heat from detractors. Forget about the heat and just keep building.”

Chapter 3: Reveals your 'aha moment' with Steve Allen: “When other people believe in you, they believe in you for a good reason. Don’t worry about that reason—just believe right along with them.”

Chapter 22: Recollects your awestruck wonder about Yankees great, Joe DiMaggio: “Our quietest heroes, more often than you think, make the loudest impact of all.”

Chapter 24: Highlights your reflections on Steven Spielberg: “When starting out, it’s probably best to first demonstrate your prospective talent than to try talking about it—especially before that talent has had its chance to develop.”

A Unique Point of View: WOLF HALL

By Bonnie Stanard

Currently I’m on page 425 of Wolf Hall by Hilary Mantel, a 532-page book that has been critically acclaimed and won the Man Booker Prize. This is my second attempt to read Wolf Hall, and it remains to be seen if I’ll finish it.

It’s the 16th Century and Henry VIII is king. The plot revolves around his efforts to banish one wife and marry another at a time when England is in the clutches of the Roman Catholic Church.

The protagonist, however, is not Henry VIII, but ambitious, brilliant, and politically astute Thomas Cromwell. The reason I put the book aside originally is because, on the first page, I became confused about the point of view (POV). However, even after I resolved that issue, Mantel doesn’t make this an easy read and here’s why:

I. First things first, POV:

After about 25 pages I figured out that Cromwell alone is telling the story in third person limited POV. Sounds simple, but here’s an example of what will have you scratching your head:

She imagines everything is about her, every glance or secret conversation. She is afraid the other women pity her, and she hates to be pitied.

This passage shows you how tricky the POV. Because you’re told what “she” (Jane Rochford) imagines, fears, and hates, you think you’re in Jane’s POV. But no, you’re in Cromwell’s. He knows what Jane imagines, he knows what she fears and hates, and he’s telling this to the reader. He speaks for her, as if he can read her mind. In fact, Cromwell transmits the views of many of the characters, and it’s up to us to realize that these are Cromwell’s thoughts, even though the context makes it appear to be the inner machinations of other characters.

On first blush, the passage below seems to belie third person limited POV. The descriptions of Cromwell appear to be views other than Cromwell’s. This is another example of Mantel’s complexity. Cromwell is telling us what other people think of him:

“Thomas Cromwell?” people say. “That is an ingenious man…” He is the very man if an argument about God breaks out; he is the very man for telling your tenants twelve good reasons why their rents are fair.

II. The quotation marks challenge. Take a look at this excerpt:

He asks the doctor where he comes from, and when he says, nowhere you know, he says, try me, I’ve been to most places.

It’s not as if Mantel eschews quotation marks. There must be a reason why some dialogue is in quotes and some aren’t. Again, dialogue with no quotation marks:

So, Thomas, he says, if you know the king’s had Anne, get a letter to me the very day. I’ll only trust it if I hear it from you.

Without quotation marks, the pronouns “I” and “me” play havoc with POV. First person pronouns shouldn’t appear in the narrative of third person limited POV books. It is left to us to figure out that “I” and “me” refer to another character (the cardinal), not the narrator Cromwell.

Even when Mantel uses quotation marks, she often omits identity tags. As a consequence characters drop in and out of scenes without identification. And Wolf Hall has about a hundred characters. You’ll spend a good deal of time referring to the list of characters in the foreword.

III. The pronoun challenge:

His glance follows the duke as he bobs and froths; but to his surprise, when the duke turns, he smites his own metaled thigh, and a tear…bubbles into his eye.

The book is abounding with flighty pronouns lacking obvious antecedents. The above passage is not as confusing as some scenes involving three or four men. While you’re trying to figure out who is saying what, Cromwell is explaining the inner thoughts of some “he.” The third person singular pronoun will drive you crazy.

I recommend Wolf Hall for its innovative POV. Hilary Mantel has a style unlike any other writer. Critics, with good reason, compliment her erudition and craft. However, this doesn’t make reading Wolf Hall easier.

The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, American Version

By Laura P. Valtorta


Lisbeth Salander does not care what the world thinks of her, nor would she ever fix coffee or breakfast for anyone. She is the hero of Stieg Larsson’s bestselling novel, Man som hatar Kvinnor (Men who Hate Women). The American screenwriter, Steven Zaillian, fails to realize this, while the Swedish screenwriters of the 2009 film, Nikolia Arcie and Rasmussen Heisterberg, got it right on target.

Everyone should read all three books and see all three Swedish movies before they watch the American imitation.

The American film hands too much power to Michael, Lisbeth’s counterpoint. It was LIsbeth who solved the mystery of the bible verses in the book, not Michael. The American film turns that around.

The American director, David Fincher, also takes away one of Lisbeth’s key scenes. When Michael comes looking for Lisbeth, who has been hacking into his computer, he confronts her in her tiny, messy apartment sleeping with her longtime lover, Miriam. In the Swedish version (and in the book), Lisbeth stands there staring hard at the intruder. She does not care what Michael sees, and she allows him to drink spoiled coffee, which he spits out into the sink. The American story has Lisbeth ashamed of her lover and practically cowering, as Michael chases Miriam out. The Swedish Lisbeth would never allow that.

The real Lisbeth would never make breakfast for Michael, either, but strangely, that happens in the American film after they make love for the first time. In the Swedish film, Michael makes the breakfast and Lisbeth wolfs it down.

The worst indignity of this American imitation film is when Lisbeth asks permission to execute the murderer. In the book, Lisbeth allows him to die, but Michael chastises her for it afterwards.

Great acting saves the American film, despite the misogynistic screenplay and bad directing. Thanks to Rooney Mara and Daniel Craig, this film is worth watching. Even Robin Wright is fun to hate. Lisbeth’s costumes are excellent as well.

What Ever Happened........?

By Beth Cotten

Remember the movie Whatever Happened to Baby Jane? As I recall, it bordered on a horror movie. The title stirred my muse to write this blog. My question is different and doesn’t provoke the same sense of dread as the movie title....but close. The question is, "What the $#@& Happened to James Patterson?"

On the way to visit my daughter in Indiana, I stopped at the airport gift shop to pick up a novel to read on the trip. I selected a James Patterson and quickly read the blurb on the book about the story line. Science Fiction is not my cup of tea, and this was a different genre from most of his nearly 60 books published since I read Virgin in 1980. So, I rationalized it must be good because it was a James Patterson novel.

I can count on one hand....maybe three fingers....how many books I started and did not read to the end. One was written in Spanish, and it was taking me way too long because my Spanish was "way too long ago." This Patterson book, The Dangerous Days of Daniel X, had a total of 220 pages. I read 80 pages to the end of chapter 31. Almost every other page is the beginning of a new chapter. I did not read further. This is by far the worst book I have ever read!

The premise of the book is that Daniel X is born with an extraordinary power unknown to our world. He is capable of creating inanimate objects and human and alien beings. As a toddler, from his hiding place, he sees his parents cruelly slaughtered, but the killer is not aware of a witness to the murders. Later, he discovers a list of names of super-powered, evil, alien beings and determines his father’s mission had been to assassinate these evil beings to save the world; thus the explanation why his father and mother were murdered. At the age of fifteen, Daniel takes up the search to complete his father’s mission. I will not be the spoiler and tell more.

I did some research:

- Reviews about the Daniel X series were split between those who thought the books were substandard to Patterson’s previous novels and others who praised them.

- The average review was three stars out of five.

- The books were written for young readers between the tweens and teens. (Well, I am a bit older.) Patterson explained the books were written to encourage the younger generation to read something other than comic books.

-The favorable reviews were from the youngsters or from parents and grandparents who were thrilled their child or grandchild was reading rather than spending all the time in front of a computer or television.

-Since 2005, Patterson published an average of 5.4 books a year --- seven alone in 2008. Can any author write four to seven quality novels a year?

Please, Mr. Patterson, don’t leave us “Oldies-but-Goodies” hanging. We were here first!

Mr. Peanut: A Book Review

By Ginny Padgett

I must say Adam Ross’s Mr. Peanut goes against all the advice from experts we aspiring writers hear for crafting a first-time novel, and I am hopping mad. I want to know who Ross had to sleep with to get this trash to market and reviewed by the New York Times.

Here’s the list of some of the transgressions I noticed:

• Two stories told side-by-side and then too conveniently dovetailed by an unbelievable turn of events. (The implausible storyline includes Dr. Sam Shepherd, whose wife was murdered, a real case from 1954. He was convicted for the crime, went to jail for ten years and was then released, all the while maintaining his innocence. In Mr. Peanut, when released from prison, Shepherd becomes a police detective and is assigned to investigate the suicide, or possible murder, of the wife of David Pepin, one of Ross’s main characters. The Shepherd and Pepin murder stories are juxtaposed for our enlightenment or entertainment.)
• Rambling descriptions of Hawaiian terrain, climbing a mountain, convoluted feelings, etc., go on for pages and halt the forward progress of both stories.
• A flashback at the end of the novel that sheds no insight into characters or events is so lengthy it becomes a mini-chapter…just hanging there.
• The Mobius strip, a mathematical object of optical illusion, is mentioned ad nauseam as an element in works of art; is the basis of one of David Pepin’s video games he is developing for a flourishing market; and is the name of the private detective hired by Mr. Pepin. I enjoy symbolism, but this use struck me as overkill. In addition, Mr. Peanut, the Planter’s Nuts icon, and the actual nut also carry significant weight as symbols throughout both stories. I felt like I was being hit over the head with the hammer of Mr. Ross’s less than subtle images.

On top of all these annoyances, this is the most misogynistic piece of ‘literature’ I have ever read. If one is to suspend belief to buy into this story, the reality is all men fantasize, dream, plot, and sometimes carry out the murder of their wives.

The New York Times reviewer wrote this about Mr. Peanut, “…story that reads like a postmodern mash-up of Tolstoy’s Kreutzer Sonata, Edward Albee’s Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?, and one of James M. Cain’s noirish mysteries.

How can this “…dark, dazzling and deeply flawed novel that announces the debut of an enormously talented writer” get published? Maybe I could understand it better if this were the fourth or fifth book from an established author.

Mr. Peanut seems to prove my theory that all you need to become a successfully published, well regarded, best-selling author is a good publicist. I regret I wasted my time reading this collection of words. I hope Adam Ross will renew his prescription for ADD medication before he attempts another book.