The Woman in White, by Wilkie Collins

****

An excerpt of a review recently posted on Schaeffer's Ghost:

Classic literature doesn’t offer much in the way of strong, single, unattractive heroines. If you’re a reader, it’s ridiculously easy to become persuaded that only attractive people matter—that they’re the only ones who get to have stories. Unattractive people are relegated to the sidelines. And a single woman, well, she’s just a problem to be solved. Elizabeth Bennet is witty and charming and attractive, so she gets a (fantastic) book and ends up with one of the Catches of All Time. Juliet’s story doesn’t end well, it’s true, but it’s highly regarded as a romantic classic—and she was no dog. Wuthering Heights, Anna Karenina, Madame Bovary, Emma …these are stories about attractive women. Then there’s Cinderella, Sleeping Beauty (it’s right there in the name), Snow White … even biblical matriarchs, such as they are, skew hot—look at Sarah, Rachel, and Rebecca. Sure, Jane Eyre is no looker (and I love her for that), but even she winds up paired up with the gruff Mr. Rochester. And the unfortunate Leah, though unloved, still gets married. Only tragedies end with single heroines still single. Happily-ever-afters require marriage (or at least romance). [...]

But in the face of countless, gorgeous Disney princesses and their (admittedly dull-as-toast) Prince Charmings, it is crazy easy to believe that if you are not a) a knockout, and b) married, then you either don’t get a story, or your story is incomplete until you acquire both these things. You are incomplete until you acquire both these things.

Which is why I love The Woman in White’s Marian.

Full review available here.

The Aviary, by Kathleen O'Dell

****

An excerpt from a new review posted on Children's Books and Reviews:

Any story centered around an aviary should absolutely preserve the stately-yet-unsettling sensation that characterizes the best Gothic literature, and this book is no exception. The year is 1905, and the Dooleys (and Glendoveers) live in a gloriously decrepit mansion near Lockhaven Bay on the coast of Maine. There are rose gardens, and an aviary (obviously), and a cellar, and an attic, and a secret passageway (of sorts), and an opinionated cook, and a historical society, and a serious heart condition, and a family secret, and rumors, and a diary . . . the whole thing is chock full of Gothic mystery and period goodness. Even the pace of the book itself hearkens back to the calmer, slower stories of days gone by. Not that the story drags—not by a long shot. It sucks you in from the get-go and constantly pulls you forward, but at a more sedate pace that allows you to relish the journey in a way that modern heart-pounding, high-octane reads simply do not permit. 

The publishers compare this book to Burnett’s The Secret Garden, and they are right to do so—the feel here is very similar. The Aviary lacks the wild backdrop of the Yorkshire moors, but the Glendoveer Manor is very nearly vast enough (and mysterious enough) to make up the difference. [...] Throw in a pinch of the supernatural (Mrs. Glendoveer’s husband was a famous magician, don’t you know) and a healthy slug of long-forgotten—but never solved—mystery, and you’ve got the recipe for a pretty delicious little book. [...]

Full review available here.

Titus Alone, by Mervyn Peake

***

The final entry in the Gormenghast series picks up where Gormenghast left off--with young earl Titus, fresh from his hard-fought victory over Steerpike, headed off into the wilderness, leaving his family, friends, and responsibilities behind in a quest for . . . well, it's not terribly clear exactly what he's looking for, or what he hopes to accomplish.  Seeing the world, I suppose, or having some adventures before returning to the drudgery of Gormenghast.  He is able to accomplish both goals by leaving Gormenghast and promptly falling into a completely different book, peopled by a whole mess of loony characters living in a sort of futuristic, sci-fi, steampunk world.  The book pretty much goes off the rails from there --and stays off the rails, at that--though we do meet some interesting characters along the way.

This is deeply weird book.

A Modern Mephistopheles, by Louisa May Alcott

***

Struggling poet/author Felix Canaris is willing to do just about anything to make a name for himself. Also, he's flat broke. So when the wealthy and intimidating Jasper Helwyze comes knocking with a tantalizing offer, Felix doesn't even think twice before trading away his freedom for the fame and comfort he's always wanted. Felix soon chafes under Jasper's dominion, and when the old man's machinations lead him to order Felix to woo and marry the naive and innocent young Gladys, Felix balks. But Felix is reluctant to give up the acclaim and prosperity resulting from Jasper's patronage, and it's not long before Jasper gets his way. Jasper then amuses himself by sending his former lover Olivia to distract the vain and handsome Felix while Jasper occupies himself with the intellectual seduction of the virtuous Gladys. Felix has to decide just how much fame means to him, and exactly how much he's willing to give up to get it. Shenanigans ensue.

Like A Long Fatal Love Chase, this is another of Louisa May Alcott's dark and lurid romances. While the story is not nearly as outlandish as A Long Fatal Love Chase (nary a convent nor an asylum to be found, let alone a secret duke or a besotted priest), it is decidedly more psychologically (and spiritually) complex. (Both books are good, but my love for ridiculous, over-the-top adventure led me to give A Long Fatal Love Chase an additional star. That book is bonkers.)

Jane Eyre (1944)

****

I think we may have a winner.

While Joan Fontaine is far too pretty to be a believable Jane Eyre, Orson Welles is far and away the best Rochester I've seen to date.  And good thing, too, since this version focuses much more heavily Jane's gruff employer than on the titular character herself.  Jane's thought life and personality are not well developed, though periodic voiceover readings from the 'text' help flesh her out a bit.  But Welles shines as Rochester in all his brusque and peremptory glory.  Where other Rochesters are inclined to mopey artistic petulance and whiny temper tantrums, Welles explodes off the screen, full of thundering rage and masculine pride.  This is no mewling, puling poet, but a strong, authoritative man whose misguided efforts at courtship, though effective, are manipulative, cruel, and callous.  We believe that he is something of a social outcast, that Blanche must be after his money.  We believe that Jane, with her extensive experience of hardship and cruelty, is largely unperturbed by his bluster and can see through the rough exterior and harsh words to the man beneath.

Gormenghast, by Mervyn Peake

****

This books follows the adventures of young Titus Groan, the seventy-seventh Earl of Gormenghast--a role to which he is by no means reconciled. As Titus resents (and occasionally rebels against) his lordly responsibilities, the cleverly malevolent Steerpike plots his own advancement, by whatever means necessary. His schemes take him through the vast expanse of Gormenghast--a sprawling, decrepit castle of truly mind-boggling dimensions.  But Steerpike's subtle machinations have not gone unnoticed, and Dr. Prunesquallor and exiled valet Flay are hot on his trail.  In other news, Dr. Prunesquallor's spinster sister is on the hunt for a suitor.

The Gormenghast novels are notoriously difficult to categorize.  There are definite gothic influences, to be sure, but there is a flavor of high fantasy about the series, even though it contains no magic or supernatural elements (unless you count the sheer size of Gormenghast itself), and no non-human intelligent races (though several human characters seem a mere hair's breadth from goblins or dwarves or gnomes or elves).  The focus on the hierarchical social structures, and the 'drawing room' nature of many of the sequences has led some to dub this a fantasy of manners.

The Death of Yorik Mortwell, by Stephen Messer

****

Another review posted at Children's Books and Reviews.  Here's an excerpt:

It’s not every day you come across a book where the hero dies in the first chapter.  But in The Death of Yorik Mortwell, that’s exactly what happens to 12-year-old Yorik Mortwell, orphaned son of a gamekeeper at Ravenby Manor: he dies. Fortunately for the readers, Yorik does not pass quietly into the great beyond, but returns as a ghost.

[...] a delicious spooky and morbid tale that never loses its buoyant, childlike spirit.  And with a [SPOILER] happy ending to boot, all but the most sensitive readers will be able to enjoy the thrills and chills without any actual distress. [...]

[The book] provides an excellent structure for discussing sin, confession, reconciliation, and forgiveness.  Children learn that hiding wrongdoing is a recipe for personal disaster, that confession is good for the soul, that forgiveness is always possible, and that they, in turn, should forgive others.  With such a great set of life lessons wrapped up in an eerily entertaining story, I couldn’t help enjoying this little book.

Full review available here.

Dead Reckoning, by Charlaine Harris

**

~~SPOILER ALERT~~

Another chaotic and disorganized assortment of plotlines--including a fair amount of recycled material and a rather depressing lack of character continuity.  Someone named Pelt is trying to kill Sookie!  Again!  The portal to Faery that Niall closed in Dead and Gone isn't really closed!  Eric's boss continues to be a threat!  Eric continues to be lame!  Sookie's telepathic nephew Hunter makes a brief appearance for no discernible reason! Tara is having twins! Sookie, having apparently forgotten her previous discussions with Niall in From Dead to Worse, "discovers" that her grandmother cheated on her grandfather with a half-fairy!  Sookie also discovers a magic compact that grants wishes!  Eric's dead maker promised him as husband to the vampire queen of Oklahoma!  Sookie breaks the blood bond with Eric--will she still love him (and vice versa)?  Alcide tries to seduce Sookie (again)!  Faeries are gathering for unspecified reasons!  Everyone has the hots for Sookie!  There are no unattractive people in Bon Temps, Monroe, or Shreveport!  (Unless you count members of the police force.)  Bubba is back! 

In addition to all the plot noise, there are some disturbingly uncharacteristic moments.  After breaking the blood bond with Eric, everyone goes on and on about how important it is that no one be told about it, because Sookie is much more vulnerable without the bond alerting Eric to any threats.  Not that this stops Amelia--who knows what's the what from their previous adventures--from running off to a werewolf bar to tell Alcide that Sookie is up for grabs and then bringing him back to Sookie's house (!) and letting him into her bedroom (!!) where he undresses (!!!), gets into her bed (!!!!), and hamhandedly tries to seduce her.  Sookie is of course incensed, and proceeds to (rightly) rake down all involved in this ridiculous and inappropriate situation.  However, her admonishment to Amelia--who just blabbed her newly vulnerable state to God only knows how many people--is based only on her "interference" with and "manipulation" of Sookie's love life.  There is no mention of the huge danger resulting from Amelia's carelessness.  That whole sequence was just beyond implausible.  And the idea that it was all part of Jannalyn's plot to "get" Sookie by . . . well, it's not exactly clear how this affect Sookie other than by annoying her.  As plots go, it's rather ineffective and nonsensical.  Much like this book.

Jane Eyre (2006)

****

Sooooo much better than the 2011 film version.  Here, the viewers are permitted to see Jane's thought life--to see that she even has a thought life.  She has intelligence, imagination, courage, self-confidence, curiosity, and passion--qualities kept well-hidden in the newest adaptation.  She reads books about exotic places, and delights in hearing Rochester's descriptions of his travels.   The two actually seem to enjoy one another's company, which makes their romance much more believable.  We get to see Jane's reaction to this her first real adult friend--we see her delight in his company and her turmoil when he dances attendance on another.  We see Jane truly engage with Rochester and stand up to him as few have done.  We see her absorb and react to unusual and frightening circumstances with calm efficiency.  And we get to see the strength of her resolve and her deep desire to act rightly in any given situation.

As a result, we are not completely surprised to discover that Rochester has fallen in love with her.  Speaking of Rochester, he is less the swooning poet of the film version and more the brusque grouch of the novel.  He is still a bit too attractive and effeminate to be the "perfect" Rochester, but he is undoubtedly a vast improvement.

Dead Until Dark, by Charlaine Harris

***

Not all that brilliantly written, but the audiobook kept me awake on the long drive home, so I am not complaining. 

Harris's big schtick is the assimilation of vampires into human society (thanks to the development of readily available synthetic blood).  As a result, the vampire-human relations take on shades of civil rights and other culturally relevant issues.  An interesting idea, and though Harris is no wordsmith, she does a decent enough job creating a compelling story, even if it's not terribly well-executed. 

There are a few steamier scenes (possibly more than in later books, since this marks the beginning of Sookie's romantic involvement with vampires), but there's plenty of bloodshed to divert the reader's attention from Sookie's love life.  (Mercifully, the reader only sees Sookie's love life, and not that of other Bon Temps residents--a big difference from the (largely naked) television show.)  The focus of this romantic attention is the rather dull (for a vampire anyway, especially compared to the viking vampire Eric) civil war era vampire Bill, but I suppose that makes him easier to buy as a sort of "gateway drug" for Sookie's entrance into vampire society.  This Sookie is not yet ready for Sheriff Northman. 

There are plot holes, to be sure:  Sookie is "surprised" at Sam's revelation that vampires are truly supernaturally reanimated dead things--as opposed to being merely the victims of a virus--even though she knows vampires are preternaturally strong and have "magical" blood, and she previously saw Bill levitate.  Or Sookie's convenient inability to read the thoughts of the murderer . . . just because.  Still, despite the lackluster writing, Harris knows how to hold her readers' attention.

Fortunately, the audiobook narrator invests Sookie with a vulnerability and naivete that improves the story, and makes her improbable discoveries slightly more believable.

Jane Eyre (2011)

**

Let me start out by confessing that I may not be impartial enough to judge this movie fairly.  I have read and re-read Jane Eyre numerous times, and loyalty to the source material can lead to unreasonable expectations (and rigidly inflexible demands) for film adaptations.  It may be that no movie version would ever satisfy me, for the simple reason that no movie version can ever measure up to the original.

That being said, I think that it has to be possible to do better than this. 

Let's talk about Jane.

Titus Groan, by Mervyn Peake

***

I'm still deciding what I think about this one. I expect I won't really know until I finish the next book, if not the whole trilogy. Lots of elements that I appreciate, but I won't know if it was all worth it until I see where Peake takes it.

Dead in the Family, by Charlaine Harris

**

~~SPOILER ALERT~~

Better than the last entry, though that's not saying much. Harris was wise to return to smaller-scale conflicts in Sookie's immediate circle, even if there were an awful lot of plotlines running around. (Eric's 'sire' is in town! The werewolves have a traitor! The government wants to "register" shifters! There's been a murder! Bill is sick! Eric's boss is (maybe) (probably) trying to kill him! Sookie is still recovering from being tortured! There's a fairy loose in the woods! No, two fairies! And a famous (un)dead person! (Sadly, it is not Bubba. I miss him.) Sookie's cousin's telepathic kid is visiting! Religious bigots cause problems (again)! Everyone continues to be ridiculously attractive! And also cheesy! Shenanigans abound!)

As always, the narration on the audiobook strengthens what is likely not an overstrong story. Still, I look forward to seeing where Harris goes from here.

Rebecca, by Daphne du Maurier

*****

One of the best opening lines of any book ever written, and the rest of the book does not disappoint.

Du Maurier creates an unparalleled atmosphere of suspense, quite gothic in nature, and her insight into the neuroses of her unnamed narrator (and in many cases, her readers) is remarkable.

I've read this book easily a dozen times, but I always forget how stressful a read it is--and even more so once you know how it ends. The lack of communication is beyond frustrating, and yet given the characters' temperaments, there was never any other way for the story to play out.

(Side note: The film version is one of the most faithful book adaptations I've ever seen. It is also excellent.)