Book Review: Haint Country: Dark Folktales from the Hills and Hollers

 By Matthew Sparks (editor), Olivia Sizemore (illustrator)

• Pub Date: 2024

• Genre: Folktales

• Where I bought this book: Joseph-Beth Bookstore, Lexington, during the Kentucky Book Fair 

• Why I bought this book: The authors talked me into it  

 ******

     Just so you know: A haint is sort of like a ghost, likely someone or something that appears where the distance between the supernatural world and our world is thin, meaning spirits sometimes cross over. A booger is cryptid, an animal or person that has grown out of proportion on the other side. Stained earth is a place where something evil happened, and the spirits are restless. High strangeness is just something weird that happened and cannot be easily explained. 

    Haint Country is the Appalachian dialect terms for where all these things occur.

    If you pick up this book -- and you should -- you must read the forward and introduction to these tales. It'll teach you a thing or two and make them a lot more believable to you all.

    I swear to god and hope to die if I'm lyin'.

    Moving on, you'll find this an eclectic collection of tales told mostly in the mountains of southeastern Kentucky, the heart of Appalachian Kentucky, mostly from Lee, Owsley, Clay, Leslie, Perry, and Harlan counties. They have been handed down from family to family, friend to friend, some outright invented, and some recalled to explain a curious sight or occurrence.

      The tales are written -- or told to others over time -- by various authors, some of who are credited with more than one. 

    They have been told after dark on overnight fishing trips, in a school yard to explain why no one goes down that creepy corridor, or to a spouse to excuse lateness or a lack of pants.*

    Some are to remember the victims of the mining disasters that occurred regularly in Kentucky history and still haunt entire communities. Others explain the strange feelings one gets when passing a forgotten cemetery or jailhouse. 

    But some are just old tales told around the campfire when the stars come out and the night gets dark and spooky. The drawbacks with these are they sound like the least likely explanation for a simple event, like why a house brunt down, but the tellers insist that every word is true and verified by anyone with a lick of sense. This is mostly a problem in the second part of the book, when the good ol' boys think of something they saw on television.**

    The tales in the first part of the book seem more like those told and retold as a potentially plausible, maybe if you squint real hard, explanation. Or something told after a bunch of people got together to recollect why the old barn burnt down, and try to outdo each other with wild explanations after too much moonshine.

    The longest story concerns the spooking of a house in Breathitt County, most likely by Mary Jane Fox, who apparently didn't like the changes made -- or the fact that her husband killed her when they lived in the previous house on the site. 

-----------------------------------------------------

* See Paw Hensley and the Naked Haint Woman of Squabble Creek, attributed to Hensley Sparks, "a walking, talking tall tale, born and raised in Clay County, Kentucky."

** See The Legend of The John Asher's UFO, (an episode of X-Files, no less) "dedicated to the memory of Patrick Smith, who was also a witness to the events" in the late 1990s or early 2000s.

Book Review: American Mermaid

 By Julia Langbein

• Pub Date: 2023

• Genre: Fantasy

• Where I bought this book: The Bookshelf, Cincinnati 

• Why I bought this book: Hey, I like the idea of mermaids  

 *****

    This debut novel is an uneven book, wonderful in some places, confusing and unfocused in others. At one point, I found myself identifying with a character who was "still struggling to follow" what is going on.

    The author has a varied biography that includes a doctorate in history, a stretch as a standup comedienne, and a food, art, comic book and blog writer. It might explain her wobbly style.

    Langbein loves her metaphors and similes, offering us the good, (a restaurant in a "faux Teutonic Tudor hut ... [that] looks like something Hitler build for Donald Duck"), the bad (people singing along in a room with speakers on a high ceiling as "Whitney Houston's lush vibrato pours down into the bad coffee of our voices like heavy cream"), and the ugly (an oyster dish that was "filling my mouth with the taste of original Pringles and jizz.")

    Even the author of the book's blurb seemed to have trouble capturing the essence of the tale, claiming "Hollywood insists she convert her fierce, androgynous protagonist into a teen sex object in a clamshell bra." The studio writers wanted to make a lot of changes, but that wasn't one of them.

    And that brings up that root of the novel's structure: It a novel about a novel being turned into a bad movie, and the plots merge and separate and merge again on nonparallel tracks.

    The basic story is that English teacher Penelope Schleeman's debut novel, American Mermaid, becomes a best seller, and Hollywood wants to make it a major motion picture. The advances allow Schleeman to quit her teaching job (which she claims to love), and move to Los Angeles to become a consultant on the script.

    So the book intertwines stories of Schleeman's life, chapters from her book, and the behind the scenes drama of writing a movie. There are other characters, some from real-life, others no doubt based on real-life people, and others who are solely from Langbein's imaginations. Some of the characters from the book's book mirror those of Langbein's novel, others are from Schleeman's past life as a teacher and others from her new life as a movie person. Some come out of nowhere, and disappear as quickly. Their purposes are obscure.

    Somewhere in American Mermaid is a good story warning about the power of billionaires, global warming, and the impact it may have on mermaids. But it's hard to find amidst the wandering subplots and fusion of characters. It's all very confusing, and Langbein's writing ultimately fails to carry it along. 

Book Review: The Weaver and the Witch Queen

 By Genevieve Gornichec

• Pub Date: 2023

• Genre: Magical Fiction, Historical Fantasy, Historical Fiction

• Where I bought this book: Barnes & Noble, Florence, Ky. 

• Why I bought this book: I enjoyed her debut novel

 *****

  

    Gornichec's second novel is not so much re-written mythology, but re-written -- or perhaps invented -- history. She calls it historical fantasy, inspired by medieval Icelandic sagas.

    And it's a decent book about those tribal times, when life was hard and bloody, cold and violent, and ruled by vicious and power hungry illusory kings.

    It's a decent read about Gunnhild, a young girl who doesn't admire the Viking lifestyle and who  dreams not of marriage and family, but adventure. She and two friends, sisters Oddny and Signy, take an oath to become blood sisters, intertwining their lives and futures.

    Gunnhild gets her early wish when a seeress/witch called Heid bids her to follow, and becomes her teacher and mentor. A decade later, Gunnhild strikes out on her own, a witch who still has a lot to learn.

    We don't see her training, but her life as she emerges and seeks to catch up with her blood sisters. The story is quite violent. The job and lifestyle of the Vikings and their leaders are to raid farmers and villagers, taking what they can, killing whoever tries to stops them. Gunnhild isn't sure how she fits in.

    Those Viking leaders -- from families of wealth from raiding -- hire more raiders, called the hird. They demand payoffs and loyalty from those who don't want to be raided and killed or enslaved, thus rising in the royal hierarchy to become  hersirs, jarls, princes, and kings. Sounds like a protection racket, but it happened all over Europe during these times.

    Gunnhild steps into this life, with her own wants and desires, friends and enemies. There's a lot of drama, backstabbing, and witchery. There's some romance, which comes with its own drama.

    So it's a nasty story, although it has some high points. It abounds with strong women and others who seek an alterative life. They guide and help each other, yet bicker and betray when it suits them. They pray to the gods and goddesses, who rarely play a major role in their story. 

    Bonuses include an Author's Note that explains her background and the foundations of Norse history. It includes a list of characters and terms, which are helpful in keeping track of who is who and what is what, and how people are related. I appreciated all those touches, and a map would have been nice.

    Overall, it's a well told tale. The writing is consistently strong. The action mostly moves along, although it tends to get bogged down in the drama and the romance.

    I suspect we haven't seen the last of Gornichec or her characters. Perhaps this will become a multi-part series, with more drama and romance and intrigue. Although I would prefer she go back to writing about the ancient gods and goddesses.

Book Review: Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell

 By Susanna Clarke

• Pub Date: 2004

• Genre: Magical Fiction, Fantasy, Historical Fiction

• Where I bought this book: Roebling Books & Coffee, Newport, Ky. 

• Why I bought this book: I was enchanted with her other work, Piranesi  

 ********

 

   An imaginative, expressive and tantalizing labyrinth of a novel, harmed only by its somewhat excessive length.

    Still, I was enthralled by its writing, its originality, its sense of magic, and the vibes it gives off of being an old, even ancient, work of art.

    Set mostly in early 19th Century England, a time of lords and ladies and excessive privilege amidst the belief of Rule Britannia, it showcases a time when Great Britain ruled the world with its dominance and might -- and was determined to return literal magical powers to the island.

    To do so, the country recruits the two magicians of the title, who have determinedly different ideas about the proper use of magic. Mr Norrell, a bookish and crotchety old man, sees magic as a calling that should be limited to those who venerate it. Indeed, in his reverence for the use and history of magic, he sees himself as its gatekeeper.

    But under pressure from the country's nobility, he agrees to take on a young student, Jonathan Strange, a gentle soul who has some liberal -- and to Mr Norrell, decidedly appalling -- ideas for magic's use and place in society.

    Clarke's narrator is a regal lady, of high repute, who will not be trifled with. She knows all, and will deign to tell you in her own sweet time. She will not be rushed, nor forced to use some of those new fangled words of English. She will shew you what is going on, when and how she chuses to. She writes of mediaeval times, Her words are rare, exquisite and precise.

    She writes of a doctor and his family on a summer tour of Venice, Italy.

They were excessively pleased with the Campo Santa Maria Formosa. They thought the façades of the houses very magnificent -- they could not praise them highly enough. But the sad decay, which building, bridges and church all displayed, seem to charm them even more. They were Englishmen, and, to them, the decline of other nations was the most natural thing in the world. They belonged to a race blessed with so sensitive an appreciation of it own talents (and so doubtful an opinion of any body else's) that they would not have been at all surprised to learn that the Venetians themselves had been entirely ignorant of the merits of their own city -- until the Englishmen had come to tell them it was delightful.

    Oh, and the feuds between the two men are devilish and dramatic. Mini spoiler alert warning:. At one point, one of the duo publishes a three-volume history of magic. The other uses his powers to buy up all the copies and make them disappear.

    The tale itself winds through the Napoleonic Wars, the Battle of Waterloo, and the tale of an ancient king from the North of England returning to claim his domain. Oh, and there are Faeries. Lots of Faeries. Good Faeries, bad Faeries, sneaky Faeries, and many, many more.

    At times, it's a bit overwhelming. The story gets muddled and a tad repetitive. You find yourself wishing she'd wrap it up, as the night continues on into morning, but she will not be rushed. Any resolution seems far off.

    But as with Clarke's novel Piranesi, it is how the story is told that is the true work of art.

Book Review: Lilith

 By Nikki Marmery

• Pub Date: 2023

• Where I bought this book: Athena Books, Greenwich, Conn. 

• Why I bought this book: I am fascinated by the story of Lilith

 *********

    This is a forceful and furious retelling of the Hebrew myth of Lilith, the first woman of creation, who was banished for refusing to be subservient to Adam. She was tossed out of the Garden of Eden, removed from the Bible, and erased in history. But this evocative novel brings her back, in all her glory, anger, and wisdom.

    She spends her long life -- she has attained a humble immortality -- seeking to avenge the submission of women and trying to erase the monotheistic, patriarchal society set up by the male writers in the pages of the Torah and the Christian Bible.

    It's a majestic undertaking, rich in Biblical literature and the religious history of the Middle East. It features many of the characters we know from those Bible stories, including Noah and his ark, Jezebel and Simon Peter, and Mary Magdalene and Jesus; the latter two are called by their Aramaic names, Maryam and Yehuda. It re-introduces us to Asherah, the Hebrew goddess of Heaven and the wife of Yahweh, the god of the Jewish, Christian, and Muslim faiths.

    In addition to an imaginative and convincing novel, Marmery shows a comprehensive scholarship for the Biblical era. Her sourcing range is spectacular, from the study of Hebrew and Mesopotamian myths, to Syrian and Egyptian legends, to the Gnostic Gospels, to the history of the Middle East. The languages she studies and uses include Hebrew, Aramaic, and Greek.

    Whenever I read one of these retold legends, I often wonder if the writer got things right. Of course, that's a silly thought, because all myths, even the originals, are essentially made up tales and the work of more than one person. But what I want to know is how closely does the retelling adhere to the original literature, and to the perceptions of the gods and goddesses.   

Collection of Metropolitan Museum of Art

A modern (1867) painting of Lady Lilith by Dante Gabriel  

Rossetti, who portrays her as a vain seductress and a 

demonic killer of children,

    Marmery gets it right. Remember: It's not the story, but she who tells it. Marmery tells this one well, and it's as accurate a version as any out there.

    The original has Lilith present at the creation in the Garden of Eden. She was created along with Adam, the first man. But Lilith refused to lie under Adam -- and had already eaten from the Tree of Knowledge -- and was banished. God then created Eve from a rib of Adam, making her his child and wife. Thus, Adam becomes the father of all mankind, turning biology on its head, and ushering in an era of patriarchy that erases the power of women. All children come from Adam -- the mothers, if they are even mentioned, are often unnamed.

    So in this tale, Lilith sets out to retore Asherah to her rightful place as the Queen of Heaven. As Lilith seeks to find her prophet, she lives through the flood, descends into Sheol (the Hebrew underworld) to claim her lost son, walks with Jezebel and Mary Magdalene,  and learns about Jesus. In all cases, the story is a wee bit different from what we now accept.   

    Lilith is a thoughtful, knowledgeable woman, not the evil harpy often depicted. (Indeed, she sometimes is portrayed as the banshee in Irish myth, who cries out at death, and is seen as a harbinger of doom.) 

    Yes, she does question and fight, and ultimately rejects Yahweh as a conniving, vindictive, and vain god. She defends women and their rights to seek pleasure in mind and body. She does so in an effort to seek wisdom, balance, harmony, and the divinity of women. 

Book Review: Call Me Cassandra

 

• Author: Marcial Gala 

• Translator: Anna Kushner

• Where I bought this book: The Strand, New York City

• Why I bought this book: The author's character says he is literally Cassandra

*******

      Mixing ancient Greek myths with recent Cuban history, this slim volume (just 211 pages) packs in history, culture, and literature.

1. It features Cassandra, one of the best known mythological characters.
2. It's historical fiction from the mid 1970s, an era rarely covered.
3. It was originally written in a foreign language and has an international theme.
4. The story's plot includes several Greek gods and goddesses, including Athena, Aphrodite, and Zeus, whom the main character refers to as "father Zeus" and "Zeus who reigns on Olympus," among other epithets.
5. It's a literary masterpiece, entwinning visions of Greek mythology with escapism and anti-war fervor, and transgenderism with patriotism and finding oneself. It blends death and re-birth by metaphor, allusion, and complexity.

    But that complexity, and a writing style that rambles in and out of the past, present, and future, from dreams to reality to apparitions, make it a difficult read. Parts of the book also include disturbing descriptions of abuse, including sexual abuse. 

    Raúl Iriarte is a young man growing up in revolutionary Cuba, in the small town of Cienfuegos, with an abusive father, a depressed mother, and a dead aunt. He's small, thin, light-skinned, and blond,  likes to read, and is regularly bullied at school. He likes to dress as a woman, which his mother encourages because he resembles her dead sister. He knows he is the reincarnation of Cassandra, and has the same gift of prophecy as she did. But he tell no one the latter, because, well, he's Cassandra.

    As he turns 18, he's sent off with the Cuban forces to intervene in the civil war in Angola. There, he is maligned and abused because of his looks, his effeminate natures, and his perceived homosexuality. 

    A key scene in the book is a Cassandra narration about the troops cleaning their weapons and singing a corrido, a Mexican ballet that commemorates a tragic event.

Then they move on to I'm leaving your county, and they finish with the part that goes goodbye, lady, / goodbye forever, goodbye. I'm listening to them from here, Zeus, from the earth where I lie, dust among the dust. That corrido has been with me since we were getting ready to disembark in Angola. It was our true national anthem. We sang it when we were able to score some rum, or high-proof alcohol, and if we couldn't score, we sang it, and now, under the African sun, where we are already aware of what it means to be at war, what it is to shiver feverishly with a thirst that won't go away, what it is to carry fear the size of an enormous house, we sing it now too.

     It sums up the tangled relationship of emotions, fears and contradictions of the characters. Emotions about family. Fears about the future and one's place in society. Contradictions about country and patriotism. 

    From the Achaeans invading Ilios because of a perceived slight from a member of its ruling family, to the Cubans meddling in the internal affairs of Angola, Raúl/Cassandra melds past and present, self and society, and existence and displacement into one provocative book.

Book Review: Pandora's Jar

 By Natalie Haynes

• Pub Date: 2020 

• Where I bought this book: Midtown Scholar, Harrisburg, Pa. 

• Why I bought this book: The author knows it's a jar, not a box

********

      In the early 16th Century,  a Dutch fellow by the name Erasmus of Rotterdam took it upon himself to translate some ancient Greek and Roman texts into Latin. A philosopher and Catholic priest, he was influential in the Protestant Revolution and had experience in Biblical themes, so it was natural that one of the works he chose was the story of Pandora. Like the tale of Eve in Genesis, Pandora was an origin story in which all the troubles of the world are blamed on a single woman.

    But in his writings, Erasmus made a critical error, mistranslating the Greek word for what she opened to pyxis instead of pithos. Thus Pandora's Box, instead of Pandora's Jar, entered the vernacular.

    Popular culture, including its literature, often reflects the times in which it was made. In ancient Greece, women had no voice -- remember, even the female characters in theater were played by men -- so its literature and myths reflected that. Even the goddesses mostly had traits that men pinned on women -- vain, jealous, vengeful, deceitful.  

    Haynes, a scholar, author, and comedian, makes this eminently clear, and she does by examining 10 female figures who are prominent in Greek mythology, but whom she insists have been wrongly portrayed. The title character, for instance, is blamed for all the troubles that have beset the world, and the Greeks claim the world was right and just before women came along.

    Most of the women in this study are similarly slighted. Indeed, Haynes said, of all the Greek writers, only Euripides gave women a fair shake, writing them with rare insight and giving them a voice. She says Euripides stands out amongst Greek playwrights, and he remains one of the best male writers to portray women. 

    Pandora is among the better known figures Haynes explores, which include Helen of Troy, Medusa, and the Amazons. She also includes lesser known mortals: Penelope , who waited 10 years for Odysseus to return home after the Trojan Way; Eurydice, who was rescued from the afterworld by her husband Orpheus -- until he looked back to make sure she was following him; and Jocasta, the unfortunate mother of Oedipus.    

    She compares the ancient sagas to the modern interpretations, and recently published Stone Blind, a new tale of Medusa. And she enjoys some of the pop culture retellings, saying that of all the tales of the Amazons, Buffy the Vampire Slayer did her right: By showing that Amazons trained and fought together, Sarah Michell Gellar portrayed the ultimate Amazon.

Book Review: Stone Blind

   By Natalie Haynes

• Pub Date: 2022

• Where I bought this book: Barnes & Noble, Florence, Ky. 

• Why I bought this book: Retold mythologies are quickly becoming my favorite stories

*******

    

    

    Mythological stories destroy the maxim: It is the tale, not she who tells it.

    In one corner, we have Ovid (First Century BCE and CE, Rome), who describes Medusa as a monster, and Hesiod (Eighth Century BCE, Greece), who tells how Perseus bravely slew her to protect the people of Greece from her wanton ways.

    Decently told tales they are.

     Now, along comes Natalie Haynes (present day, England), to present a different version: Medusa was a kind and loving sister of the Gorgons, Sthenno and Euryale. Perseus, meanwhile, was a silly, scared, and spineless boy who needed help from several gods to carry out his bloody deed.

    Haynes is a witty and sarcastic writer. She breathes new life into these tales with a caustic eye and a feminist perspective. She tells them tale in many voices, from Athene to Euryale to Andromeda. We even hear from Zeus and Poseidon.*

   Oh, and about those gods and goddesses? Haynes doesn't portray them much better than the original writers from back in the day. Zeus, the king of gods? He's pompous, spoiled, and moody.  His wife, Hera, is petulant, angry, and vindictive. Athene? She's easily bored, always wanting, but never satisfied. The rest of the pantheon? A venal and petty group who are dismissive of the mortals who worship them.

    But perhaps the best narrator is the wickedly funny, unapologetic, and brutally honest Gorgonian -- the voice of the slain head of Medusa. She heaps scorn on Perseus (and, in doing so, on the readers for any sympathy they may show him) beginning with the underhanded way he tricked the  Graiai to give him their shared eye and tooth.. 

I suppose you thought he was clever. Clever Perseus using his wits to defeat the disgusting old women? Your own eyes aren't all that, you know. Oh, but at least they're safe inside your head.

    She continues to mock Perseus -- who carries her around in a bag and uses her to kill people to get his way -- for his lack of courage, his cruelty, and his stupidity. She agrees she is the best narrator. "... because I was there for all of it, and because I am not a lying deceitful hateful vicious murderer."

    So there.

----------------------

* She also provides us with a glossary of characters at the beginning of the book, which is a handy reference guide throughout.

TWIB: 13th Ed.

     So, I visited the Book Loft in Columbus today -- and while the two-hour drive took closer to four hours because of a massive delay on Interstate 71 (I have no idea why; traffic just stopped for an hour) -- it was an enjoyable experience. A late lunch with my daughter at Fourth & State, a vegan cafe downtown, and then on to add to The TBR Stack.

The latest haul, ready to be read

    

        The Light Pirate, by Lily Brooks-Dalton: I have no idea what it's about, but my first daughter told me to "but it and read it next." Also, the title is fantastic, and the author's first book, Good Morning, Midnight, was a good read (and another compelling title).

    Babel, by R.F. Kuang: I have seen this title all over the place. So I grabbed it in the store, and after reading the description -- about languages, learning, and imperialism -- I could not put it back.

    How It Went, by Wendell Berry: When Kentucky's greatest living author -- and perhaps its finest living person -- puts out a new volume of stories about Port William, Ky., you just have to give it a go. Berry, after all, taught this Kentucky immigrant everything I've learned about the state.

    The Other Black Girl, by Zakiya Dalila Harris: What it's like when two Black woman work in the same office, as told by a Black woman. I think I'll learn something from this.

    Tread of Angels, by Rebecca Roanhorse: Read this description from the book flap: "High in the remote mountains, the town of Goetia is booming as prospectors from near and far come to mine the powerful new element Divinity. Divinity  is the remains of the body of the rebel Abaddon, who fell to Earth during Heaven's War, and it powers the world's most inventive and innovative technologies, ushering in a new age of progress. However, only the descendants of those who rebelled, called the Fallen, possess the ability to see the rich lodes of the precious element. That makes them a necessary evil among the good and righteous people called the Elect, and Goetia a town segregated by ancestry and class."  Yep, me too.

    Galatea, by Madeline Miller: It's short, but it's the first book in a while from Miller, the goddess of reinterpreting the perspectives of the Greek legends.

Book Review: Haven

 

•  Author: Emma Donoghue

• Where I bought this book: The Strand, New York City. 

• Why I bought this book:  Donoghue is one of my favorite writers, and this is her latest.

********

    This slow, meandering narrative is like taking a trip down the Shannon River sometime in the Seventh Century.

    It's a meaningful ride, one of compelling stories and heartbreak, of questions of life and immortality, of whether being alone is the same as loneliness.  

    It tells of Irish history, both physical and spiritual. It tells of Christian ideology, or the desire to please that version of  god above all else, whatever that may mean. 

    It begin when Artt, a monk at a monastery on the western coast of Ireland, has a vision of himself and two other men  finding a more isolated location to better worship God. Artt feels the current monastery has too many comforts -- regular meals, a warm place to sleep, and music during the evening hours. But Artt fervently believes that only by suffering and fending for themselves -- and above all putting God at the center of their lives -- could they properly honor his will.

    So he gathers Trian, a naïve young man, and Cormac, who came to the monastery late in life, after his family died in a plague, and the trio sets off to find an isolated rock on Ireland's Atlantic coast.

    The novel continues its slow journey, as the men find Skellig Michael -- an actual place eight miles off the coast of County Kerry that was founded by monks sometime in the latter part of the First Millennium. It is what Artt wants, set off from human habitation, a windswept, rocky land that would focus their minds on worshipping, honoring, and praising God.

    The basics of this story are real. Skellig Michael, now a tourist attraction, is lonely, cold, and hard to get to. Evidence shows that monks did arrive there more than a thousand years ago, built some stone structures and attempted to open a monastery so they could worship the Christian God more than life itself.

    You know, I get the desire to live alone, on some forgotten -- or as yet unknown -- part of the world. And while it's not for me, I get the dream of making a life on one's own, to be self-sufficient, to live among nature, and to sleep under the stars. 

    But what I don't understand is the need to welcome -- even to seek -- pain and suffering and deprivation to ensure your devotion is real. Artt insists that his monks should serve their God first and foremost, and thus building shrines and worship centers must take precedence over finding shelter and supplies.

    Artt wants the days to be spent honoring God, which includes copying out, by hand, the words of the sacred text. And to do this means creating the paper, ink, and writing materials, instead of finding food, water, and other necessities of life. Artt nixes that, saying only that God will provide. To doubt that is to doubt God.

    Donoghue explores the questions of what is love and survival. She blends the aspirations of Trian and Cormac to serve God and keep their vow to obey and follow Artt despite his  contentions that God wants them to suffer while doing so.

    Artt sees their human needs as selfish, while they come to see his philosophy of God as rather pointless. 

Book Review: Piranesi

 

•  Author: Susanna Clarke

• Where I bought this book: A Room of One's Own, Madison, Wisc. 

• Why I bought this book: I was looking for a title by a similarly named author, and came across this instead.

*********

        Yes, there is a story in here, and it's a wonderful one, so it's worth your while to get to it.

    But what keeps you going in this magical place are the descriptions. The fantastical, detailed discoveries behind every door, in every chamber and hall, filled with statues that delight and compel and charm. 

    Yes, Piranesi's wanderings are fun to follow. His attempts to divine the origins and implications of where he is keep the tale from his journals moving along.

    It's a remarkably strange place, even for a fantasy book. It could be a world inside a building, or a building that it a world. We don't know. We explore its ramifications with Piranesi, as he speaks to us through those writings.

    Piranesi is all but alone in the world. There is someone else, named The Other. There is evidence of other people who are or have been there, but it's all speculation, based on snippets of writings he has found.  

 One sentence puzzles me: The world was constantly speaking to Ancient Man. I do not understand why this sentence is in the past tense. The World still speaks to me every day.

    Indeed, the pleasure of this book is not the story of who Piranesi is and where he is, but the place itself, and the secrets it hides. Sometimes, the story actually gets in the way of the pleasure of reading this remarkable book.

    Yes, the secrets are revealed. It is well worth waiting for.        

Book Review: Summerland

 

•  Author: Michael Chabon

• Where I bought found this book: Kenton County Public Library giveaway at the Pride Festival, Covington, Ky.

• Why I bought collected this book: Magic. Baseball. A perfect double-play. And it was free.

******

    A motley crew of young children, faeries, giants, and assorted folkloric creatures inhabit our four worlds, but a combination of ecological destruction, meanness, and a bored creator who wants to end it all threaten its very existence.

    Enter baseball, a game with a mythology all its own, which could either make things right or cause further destruction.

    Indeed, baseball is already at least partly responsible for the latter. Author Chabon -- obviously a fan of the traditional game --  posits that the introduction of the designated hitter tore a hole in the fabric of the universe, leading to its current downward path. 

    This is a fun, if sometimes unwieldy undertaking. At 500 pages -- precisely the number of lifetime home runs that once ensured enshrinement in Cooperstown -- it's sometimes overwhelming. And its characters -- including a girl who loves the game and plays it well, and a boy who is uncertain about it all, but accedes to his widowed father's wishes that he play -- tends to be, shall we say, tropes of the trade.

    They include a mournful Sasquatch -- don't call her bigfoot! -- a mean giant, a changeling boy who feels lost in our world, and a ferisher scout who may not be immortal but has Seen It All. Also, a Major League star -- a ringer!! -- who defected from Cuba, a car that can fly and runs on moonshine, and a magical bat taken from the tree that feeds the worlds.

    They come together to save the universe in a novel that is themed, inspired, and timed by baseball. It's enjoyable -- the writing is (for the most part) crisp, the characters are wonderful (if a bit predictable), and the story is a magic fable tied together by a love for baseball.

Book Review: A Darker Shade of Magic

 

• Author: V.E. Schwab

• Where I bought this book: Roebling Books and Coffee, Newport, Ky.

• Why I bought this book: A tale of many Londons intrigued me.

********

       

    Sometimes, when you're reading a novel with magical inspirations, you just have to let go and forge ahead. You may not completely understand what is happening or why it is taking place, so you keep reading, enjoy the moment, and hang on for the ride.

    Trust the author. She know where she is going. She will take you there. And you will like it.

    Such is the case with this mesmerizing, bizarre, and oddly enchanting book, first published in 2016. I didn't know when I picked it up that it's the first in a series. I have since learned it's a trilogy, and the next two books are in the TBR Stack.

    I fell in love with the story, along with its remarkable and compelling characters. Those include Kell, a foremost practictioner of the art of magic, and Lila, an edgy, cunning castaway living on the streets of London.

     Actually, Lila lives in one of the four Londons -- Grey London, the dullest and most realistical of the Londons with King George III at its helm and of its magic gone. Meanwhile, Kell lives in Red London as the magic emissary for the Maresh Empire. He is one of the few remaining Antari, who can travel between the various Londons. 

   Except for Black London. No one goes there because nothing exisits but pure evil.

    Kell does visit White London, though, where trouble is brewing. White London has evil magic, and is run by those who are selfish and cruel.

    That's because, as Kell explains, magic is in the blood. Literally. Red is the color of magic in balance, of harmony between power and humanity. Black is the color of magic without balance, without order, without restraint. (I'm not sure how White fits into this scheme, unless it's what happens to magic as it's going bad.)

    Anyway, the story has Kell being not only an emissary, but a smuggler between the Londons. This is illegal, and could bring about severe punishment if he is caught. But Kell does it for fun, partly because he is bored.

    Lila -- remember Lila? -- lives and works on the street. She and Kell find each other, for better or for worse, and must work together keep the magic in balance and save Red London. It's tough for both of them.

    It's a wild ride. Hang on and trust the writer. You'll find it worth your while.

Book Review

 Ariadne, by Jennifer Saint

• Where I bought this book: The Strand Bookstore, New York
• Why I bought this book: Rewritten myths re-tell a great tale

******

   

    The ancient myths of various cultures is how they remain relevant today. So a good writer can take a myth, view it from another perspective, and give it a meaning for today's world.

    As long as that perspective is within the larger realm of myth, it can fit into the canon and become another way of looking at the world of the gods.

    Such is the case with Ariadne, a new tale about the Greek myth about the mortal life of the woman who is the wife of Dionysus and the sister of the Minataur. 

    For the most part, Saint stays true to the original tale, taking advantage of the differing interpretations by the Greek writers, and adding her own twists to the tale. She reimagines  the ties Ariadne has to well-known gods and mortals, including Daedalus and his son Icarus, and King Minos of Crete.

     Some of those old myths are told in passing, fitted to fit this larger tale of Ariadne. We hear mentions of Zeus, Hera, Poseidon, and Athena.

    Briefly, Zeus decided to punish Ariadne's mother, Pasiphaë, because he was angry with King Minos, Ariadne's father and Pasiphaë's husband. (A major theme in this feminist take is that the gods often punished woman for the misdeeds of men.) Zeus determined that Pasiphaë would lust after a prized bull that would then impregnate her, and she would give birth to a half-man, half-bull. King Minos would later lock the Minotaur away in the celler, bringing it out for his own purposes.

    Ariadne helps a prince of Athens, Theseus, kill the Minotaur. She had fallen in love with Theseus, who promised to make her the queen of Athens, but he reneged, leaving her to die on the island of Naxos, where she survived, and then met and wed Dionysus.

    All of that is fine, and Saint tells it well. But there is more, and Saint writes perseptively about Ariadne's meeting Dionysus and their falling in love; her desire to reunite with her sister, Phaedra; her life on Naxos, and her dealing with being the wife of a god.

        This is a feminist, women-centered version of the stories, told by Ariadne. It describes the stories and concerns of the women often cast aside in the myth-making of ancient Greece. The book does tend to drag at times, but overall it's a linear tale that's crafted well and does justice to its roots and its women.

Book Review

 Smart Baseball, by Keith Law

• Where I bought this book: Volumes Bookstore, Chicago
• Why I bought this book: I read a few opening pages of several chapters and liked them

*******

    Baseball is like physics. The concepts are getting more esoterical, and the math is getting harder. But that math is proving many of  the old beliefs to be myths, and those new statistics to be correct.

    Actually, the major flaw in this book is that it is five years old -- and this edition was updated in 2017. Thus, keeping with the physics analogy, it's operating in an earlier dimension from what is happening now. Still, Law says the major explosion in data and its uses came about as he was writing the book, and the future changes will be more incremental, not expotenial.

    Its major point is how the statistical analysis in baseball -- and the sheer types and amount of data that are becoming available -- is changing the very nature of the game. The old stats, easy to compile or calculate, and simple to understand, were just plain wrongheaded and at best useless. At their worst, they measured things that didn't matter, or left out large parts of the games.

    For instance: RBIs, once thought as an ultimate measure of a player's offensive worth, in reality favored players who had teammates who got on base in front of them. Wins and losses, once seen as being the definition of a starting pitcher's importance, instead gave one man credit based on what others did on the field.

    The great benefit of the old stats is that they were simple to understand, readily available, and intuitive. The new ones are a bit more difficult: Not everyone has access to or can understand the data, the calculations can be difficult, and they must be explained. 

    But they are immeasurable better: On-base percentage and slugging percentage are far superior to mere batting average, which leaves a lot out of the equation and can mislead about a player's worth. New pitching stats give a better indication of a pitcher's performance, unlike, say, the save, which is worse than useless and ruined the game for the last 40 years. (Law's takedown of the save and how it was used is a major reason I bought this book.)

    These new stats are here to stay. They give greater insight in what players do and what they can do. The collection of information is staggering, and still being evaluated. They have lead to a revolution in the use of fielders. They may be able to predict -- and thus prevent -- injuries. 

    Teams are hiring entire staff -- many with doctorates in analytics -- to think about, gather, and use the numbers now available. Coaches, managers, and front-office staff are becoming better attuned to hard data. Players are recognizing the benefit to their games and careers.

    It's time for the fans to come along, and learn to accept -- and even love -- the numbers. Dump the save. Embrace WAR. 

     

Book Review: The Natural

The Natural, by Bernard Malamud

    In the long, long ago, an old college friend handed me a copy of this book, telling me I should read it because it is the best baseball book ever written.

    I put the book aside, somehow ignoring it for the next four decades. But earlier this year, while meandering around a used-book store, I landed across the book. Not knowing where my original copy was, I decided to pick it up and actually read it this time.

    It was good.

    But the best baseball book ever written? I think not. I'd have to list at least five or six novels by W.P. Kinsella ahead of it. And perhaps a few others. 

    Maybe time has caught up with The Natural. It was, after all, published in 1952. It was made into a movie, with a then-middle-aged Robert Redford in the lead role, way back in 1984 -- long after an even younger Redford helped break the Watergate scandal.

Malamud is considered one of the greatest Jewish authors

of the 20th Century. Later in his writing career, he won a

Pulitzer Prize for The Fixer, his novel about anti-semitism in

the Russian Empire. The Natural is the first novel he published.

      The Natural begins with a young rube by the name of Roy Hobbs headed on a train to Chicago for a tryout with the Cubs. Something happens, and Hobbs' career stalls. Some 16 years later, Hobbs is signed as the new left fielder for the down-and-out New York Knights. Hobbs brings along his special bat, which he has named Wonderboy. He refuses to hit with anything else.

    It's unclear whether the bat has magical powers, or Hobbs just thinks it does. And while fueding with his veteran, old-school manager, Pop Fisher, Hobbs beomes the star of the team and starts leading the sad-sack Knights toward the pennant. As Hobbs gains fame and fortune, a cloud begins to surround him, and a deep, dark secret in his past is hinted.

    Each chapter of the book reads like a short story, self-contained but presenting a snippet of the whole. It's well written, and the baseball stories and tales in the dugout and clubhouse seem realistic for the era. But it sometimes falls into common baseball tropes -- the aging manager who's seen it all, the obnoxious superstar, the long-suffering fans. I also question some of the math -- in one sequence, a team is four games behind another in the pennant race, wins a four-game series, but then is just one game behind.

    But it's the magical sequences that are most problematic. Are they dreams? Mystical happenings? Or simply extended metaphors? 

    I don't know. And I am afraid the book's failure to properly deal with those is its major flaw.

Book Review: Witch's Heart

 The Witch's Heart, by Genevieve Gornichec

    Gornichec could do for Norse gods what Madeline Miller and Margaret Atwood did for Greek mythology: Rethink and rewrite them, making them accessible for a new group of readers.

   

    If you're like me, what you know about Norse mythology begins and ends with Thor and his hammer. If that's the case, this well-written and enjoyable novel is an excellent primer into the ancient worlds. An attached appendix, which you will refer to often, is an essential addition.

    Most of the characters here are from the Norse mythology. Gornichec takes their stories, re-imagines them, and tells new tales.

    But even here, gods are needy, violent, and vindictive. The witch is a counterpoint to them, although she has her issues -- which start with her being burned three times, having her heart cut out, but remembering little of who she is.

    So she -- known as Gullveig or Angrboda -- winds up retreating to a cave in Ironwood, a forest in eastern Jotunheim. There she lives her next life -- or, perhaps, a continuation of her previous lives -- as the gods seek to use her talents for their own benefits. This is all laid out in the opening of the book, giving you the background on the characters, their motivations, and their relationships. Pay attention here. It will be worth it.

    Loki, a "blood-brother" of Odin -- he's the top guy -- meets Angrboda and returns her heart. Literally. He hangs around. They have kids -- interesting kids, I might add -- and adventures, together and separately. But this is largely Angrboda's story, told from her perspective, and her loves and interests are the key to the tale.

    Many of the people and events are from the Norse mythology, which like its counterparts in the ancient world, have contradictions, discrepancies, and variations. This is another one.

    The Witch's Heart is about love and longing, about deeds and desirers, about protection and rejection. It a great tale, finely written. Whether Gornichec stays on this path as a writer and novelist is up to her. But I am eager to see more.

Book Review: Kissing the Witch

Kissing the Witch, by Emma Donoghue

    The best way to read this book is to forget your previous images of fairy tales, and with the author's help, let your imagination run wild.

    Donoghue's rewritten fairy tales are extraodinary. She ties them together with wee little blurbs at the end of each story and the beginning of the next. She twists them a bit to give them a sense of freshness.

    I suspect many people's knowledge of fairy tales comes not from reading the originals, but from watching Disney movies or other cartoon animations. Such treatment often infantalizes the stories to simple tropes. Donoghue returns then to their truer nature -- part of a mythology that tries to explain the world and why things happen or may go wrong.

    The writing here is superb. The characters are new but familiar, often redrawn to fit Donoghue's feminine perspective. The stories are written in keeping with the old style, She uses her love and understanding of language to invigorate each tale, and weaves them to create a loosely tied longer tale.  

    As someone who is not an expert on fairy tales, I am unsure if these are rewrites of older tales, brand new legends, or both. Some seemed familiar, while others did not.

    All but one were absolutely wonderful.

    I could not get through The Tale of the Cottage, which was written as by one with subpar language skills -- perhaps an animal? -- but in a collection of 13 stories, one miss is allowed.

    To make up for it, there was Tale of the Voice, about an introverted woman the community sees as a witch. She is not. Instead, she observes and advises. She doesn't cause the curses people suffer through as the price they pay for their desires, but rather she understands and informs them what would be the consequences of their actions. It's a subtle but too often ignored distinction.

Book Review: Flight or Fright

Flight or Fright, edited by Stephen King and Bev Vincent

    In 1963, the Twilight Zone aired an episode, "Nightmare at 20,000 Feet," in which an airplane passenger, played by William Shatner, saw a gremlin tearing off part of the wing. Some 20 years later,  Twilight Zone: The Movie remade the episode, this time starring John Lithgow as the passenger.

    Flash forward to TV 16 years later, when Lithgow was starring in "Third Rock From the Sun," a show about an alien visiting earth. In one episode, his boss, The Big Giant Head, played by Shatner, came to visit, thus rendering one of the best inside jokes ever on the networks.

    The Big Giant Head was asked how his trip went. His response: "Horrifying at first. I looked out the window and I saw something on the side of the plane." To which Lithgow's character responded in horror, "The same thing happened to me!"

    You can read that original story, first published in 1961 by Richard Matheson, in this uneven anthology of airplane horror stories. It ranges from a brief 19th Century story by Ambrose Bierce, to a tale of envisioned "Air Jungles" above 30,000 feet written in 1913 by Sir Arther Conan Doyle (yes, the Sherlock Holmes writer) to a 2018 tale of being on an airplane when the world ends, by Joe Hill.

    I know many people dislike short stories, but I think they hold a place of honor. A good one is hard to write -- with a few words and fewer character, a writer must tell a tale with a grab-you-by-the-neck beginning, a now-sit-there-and-listen middle, and a see-I-told-you ending. This book has some of those, but a fair amount of WTF stories that leave you empty, and a couple of tales that never get off the ground.

    There are some out-and-out horror tales, some that are more wild imaginings, and a couple of hang-on-for-dear-life adventures. One of the best is a simple detective story, with an opening that pulls you in, a middle that keeps you wondering, and an ending that is satisfying and believable. It doesn't lead you around in circles, but tell the story and gets to the point like a good short story should.

    As an added bonus, you get to read a new tale by Stephen King, a good one that reaches into the supernatural heights, but makes you wonder just how much of what he writes is true.