Heaven to Betsy and Betsy in Spite of Herself

The title: Heaven to Betsy and Betsy in Spite of Herself
The author: Maud Hart Lovelace
Publication: Harperperennial, 2009 (originally 1940s)
Got it from: Amazon, 2013

I am returning to Betsy's world for the first time since last winter.  In the two books of this compilation, we return to the world of Deep Valley, Minnesota during Betsy's freshman and sophomore years (1906-1908).   As much as I enjoyed reading about Betsy's childhood adventures, I have to say I loved Betsy's high school adventures more.  Many of them were taken directly out of Maud Hart Lovelace's own teenage years.

Reading these stories almost breaks my head as I try to grapple with the contradiction of having everything feel so old but so familiar. On the one hand, Maud was born ninety years before me.  Think of "old timey" and these books are it.  We're talking pompadours, "socials," ice cream parlours and Nickelodeons.  It's a world that seems remote, but yet close enough that I could almost reach out and touch it.  My grandmother's descriptions of her growing up years remind me very much of Betsy's.  Betsy herself even feels that strange sense of touching history when she hears a friend's grandmother talk about pioneer days and Indian raids fifty years earlier.  In Betsy's world, there is no television or radio and no electricity.  In Heaven to Betsy, the Ray family gets indoor plumbing for the first time.  Only a few cars exist on the scene and their presence is noted as being remarkable.  Kids roam the streets freely and pop in and out of each others' houses daily.  When they get together, they make taffy and sing around the piano.  Make no mistake: this is the past.

And yet - and here's the contradiction - reading this book I thought, this is the story of my high school life.  I honestly felt like I was watching my high school years in the 1990's play out all over again.  What is it about the teenage years that feels so universal, no matter what century you're in?  Suddenly friends burst out onto the scene like never before, shaping your outlook and experiences.  Betsy suddenly finds herself hanging out with a "crowd" that encompasses new and old friends, much as I did.  Like every (straight) fifteen-year-old girl in the history of ever, including me, Betsy becomes obsessed with boys.  (A footnote at the back of the book states that Lovelace destroyed he high school diaries in later life because they were too full of boys.  A shame!)  Basically everything Betsy experiences reads like a checklist from my high school years: Suddenly becoming obsessed with how pretty you are?  Check!  Trying and failing to reinvent yourself?  Check!  Dating the "wrong" boy just because he's exciting?  Check!  Being extremely silly and passing notes in class?  Check!  Having your first dance be the most exciting thing ever?  Check!  Letting your schoolwork slide because you're having too much fun?  Check!  Experiencing that bittersweet agony of a first breakup?  Check!

And this may in fact be the key to why the Betsy-Tacy books have endured all these years, and why so many other coming-of-age stories from those years have faded into obscurity.  Betsy is so much more relateable than, say, Elsie Dinsmore*.  Yes, she sometimes does silly things like trying to change her personality for a boy, but you can't help rooting for her because we were all there at one time, we all know it's going to work out in the end and mistakes are an important part of growing up.  Another "draw" for me is that despite the many, many problems of living in the early 20th century, I can't help feeling a pang of nostalgia for the days of school dances, picnic socials, musical evenings and recitals.

Or maybe it's the rose-coloured view of high school that I'm really remembering.  


*Because I spent most of my childhood living in the late Victorian era, I knew who Elsie Dinsmore was before I read this book.  She's a goody-goody that all Victorian parents want their daughters to be.  Every self-respecting Victorian heroine hates her.  Betsy even makes fun of her when she's trying to decide if it's wrong to go to a play on a Sunday.  "Elsie Dinsmore, she remembered, had refused to play the piano on Sunday; she had fallen off the piano stool instead.  But Betsy had never thought much of Elsie Dinsmore."

The Demon-Haunted World

The title: The Demon-Haunted World: Science as a Candle in the Dark
The author: Carl Sagan
Publication: Random House, 1995
Got it from: The library

So far in this blog, I haven't reviewed very many science books although they are a passion of mine (even more so since I started down my journey of critical thinking in my twenties).  When I take a science book out of the library, I tend to just tip my toes in it, reading over the parts that interest me.  So many books I've read in the past referenced this book as one of the canon in skepticism.  I think watching Neil deGrasse Tyson's wonderful Cosmos finally convinced me to read The Demon-Haunted World cover to cover.

This book is more than just a debunking of pseudoscience, it is a critical plea for scientific thinking in all aspects of our lives.  Sagan wrote this book just before he died in 1996 but he accurately foresaw the "dumbing down" of American culture and the move away from thoughtful analysis.  A large chunk of the beginning of the book deals with Sagan's interest in extraterrestrials and why there is so far no credible reports of alien abductions.  He got me thinking about it in a way I never have before, showing the similarities of "alien abductions" in the 20th century and witchcraft in the 17th century.  Back then our culture was steeped in stories of witches, much the same way that ours is now saturated with movies and TV shows about aliens.  How interesting, then, that there are few cases of witchcraft reported now (at least in the developed world) and how there were no alien reports before the birth of science fiction.     

The middle and latter part of the book are devoted to outlining the tools we need for our "baloney detection kits," and the need for a proper understanding of science in our culture.  There are some extremely powerful passages here, including one on the importance of basic literacy, as seen through the story of Frederick Douglass, a black slave who taught himself to read and thus freed himself and many of his fellow slaves from ignorance and captivity.  Even when some parts of this book depressed me (TV has only gotten worse since the 1990's in terms of ignorance and sensationalism),   there is also hope, such as one community raising the money to build a children's science centre.  Overall this book provides another important argument in favor of critical thinking being a necessary skill as members not just of democracy, but of the human race.

The Serial Garden

The title: The Serial Garden: The Complete Armitage Family Stories
The author: Joan Aiken
Publication: Big Mouth House*, 2008
Got it from: MC

Before there was Harry Potter, there was his smarter predecessor, Joan Aiken's delightful Armitage family.  Back when Mr. and Mrs. Armitage were first married, Mrs. Armitage made a wish on a wishing-stone that their lives would never be boring.  Years later, young Harriet and Mark Armitage experience a life full of strange occurrences (usually on a Monday), which they take in stride with good humour.  A unicorn that shows up in the garden?  A governess ghost who is still trying to teach?  A doll sized family in the attic?  No big deal.  

Each of these short stories can be read as a self-contained treasure, but they are loosely linked and best read in chronological order.  (Joan Aiken wrote them starting in 1944 and continuing until, incredibly, her death in 2004.)  Each story is really a mystery to solve.  The formula runs like this: bizarre events happen, children uncover the reason why, unexpected resolution, things return to normal, Mr. Armitage makes a hilariously sarcastic comment, The End.  Toward the end of the book, the stories start taking on darker, deeper layers that I won't spoil.  Suffice to say that intelligent adults and children will be satisfied.

*Looking at the back of the book, I see the publisher has the following statement: "A new imprint devoted to fiction for readers of all ages.  We will publish one or two weird and great titles (short story collections and novels) per year. We expect to publish books for readers ages 10 and up."  How awesome is that???

The Ivy Tree

The title: The Ivy Tree 
The author: Mary Stewart
Publication: HarperCollins, 1961 
Got it from: Amazon

A few years ago I reviewed Mary Stewart's marvelous Touch Not the Cat, and hearing that The Ivy Tree was a similar story, I was eager to read this one.  Mary Grey is a young woman on vacation to the north of England, where she is mistaken for Annabel Winslow, another young woman who ran away from home eight years ago and was presumed dead.  Annabel's distant cousin Connor hatches a plan with Mary: she will impersonate Annabel in exchange for a share of the inheritance given by the dying Winslow grandfather.

Like Touch Not the Cat, this is a classic Gothic mystery, steeped in atmosphere and description.  But compared to that story, this one was a big meh for me.  There's a Big Secret at the heart of the plot which is fairly easy to guess if you know anything about this kind of novel.  Unlike in Cat, the revelation of the true hero at the end of the novel wasn't a happy surprise.  One of the reasons Cat worked for me was that the romantic revelation was a huge payoff for all the slow pacing beforehand.  In Ivy Tree, there's the slow pacing but no payoff.  I didn't dislike the book but I also wasn't rushing to read it.  I think it would much better suit someone looking for an old-fashioned Gothic story.

Desired

The title: Desired
The author: Nicola Cornick
Publication: Harlequin, 2011
Got it from: The library

In what may be Romancelandia's greatest opening scene ever, the heroine, thrice-widowed Tess Darent, is being chased by guards who have broken up the political reform meeting she was part of.  Making her escape from a nearby brothel, Tess shimmies down a bedsheet and (unknowingly) into the arms of one of the guards, soon-to-be hero Owen Purchase, Viscount Rothbury.

The following exquisite exchange takes place:

"Good evening, Lady Darent," he said.  "What an original way to exit a brothel."

"Lord Rothbury," Tess said coolly.  "Thank you - I never follow the crowd."

Did I mention the dress she stole had just fallen off her?  Because it did.

Well, gosh darn it to heck.  I loved this book so much, I don't even know how to properly convey it.  It was funny, emotionally complex, sweet, smart, wonderful.  I loved that the heroine was seemingly wanton but wasn't (kind of like the female equivalent of the fake rake). I loved that she was involved in political reform.  I loved that the hero was so sweet and thoughtful and helped Tess move past the terrible abuse she'd suffered in one of her previous marriages.  It was just all-around satisfying and near-perfect and...sigh of happiness.

I honestly don't know how I'm supposed to get any other reading done when there are so many wonderful, complex, sexy new romances out there to read, and they all have an accompanying series.  The only sensible solution is for the authors to just stop writing and give me a chance to catch up.  I'm serious - between Elizabeth Hoyt and Sherry Thomas and Nicola Cornick and Courtney Milan and a whole bunch of others, you really just need to stop right now.  It's too much.  Sensory overload.    

The Book of Lost Books

The title: The Book of Lost Books: An Incomplete History of All the Great Books You'll Never Read
The author: Stuart Kelly
Publication: Random House, 2005
Got it from: JP Morgan Library, NYC, 2008

It has always fascinated me that what remains of history's greatest writing is just a fraction of what was.  I once wrote a (not very good) paper in university about the many ways in which books of history are forever lost.  This book attempts to tackle the same subject.  Where my paper dealt with the generalities, Stuart's highlights specific authors from ancient to modern times.  What, exactly was lost in the great fire of Alexandria?  (Actually several fires and a looting.)  Was Love's Labour's Won a great lost Shakespeare play or an alternate title for The Taming of the Shrew? (Answer: probably original and totally fascinating.)  Like a literary archaeologist, Stuart digs up the most obscure references to remind us of what could have been.

Except - Literary Indiana Jones he is not.   Gosh darn it, I wanted to love this book.  For one thing, I have extremely happy memories of the beautiful spring evening I bought it at the JP Morgan Library in New York City, with the sounds of a classical quartet drifting in from the atrium.  And of course I love the subject matter, the thrill of thinking about discovering some long-lost text that will offer us new insights into history.  But I just can't ignore that, besides those little fascinating nuggets that Stuart occasionally drops, most of this work is as dry as the brittle rolled-up parchment of Alexandria's lost library.  I mean, he actually comes out and states he's only going to talk about dead white male authors, with a few token exceptions.  Sigh.  In addition, rather than focusing on the lost works themselves, we are treated(?) to full-blown biographies of every famous dead writer dude in Western Civilization, in the most rambling, incoherent manner possible.  I couldn't help but feel like Mr. Burns when he yells at Reverend Lovejoy, "We've heard enough about Bliz-Blaz and Him-Ham already. Get to the bloody point!" 

In conclusion, I wanted to enjoy reading this book, but it was a chore that took me eight months and so all I can think, having finally finished it, is that were it to be lost forever to the annals of history, good freaking riddance.  

The Disaster Artist

The title: The Disaster Artist: My Life Inside The Room, The Greatest Bad Movie Ever Made
The author: Greg Sestero
Publication: Simon & Schuster, 2013
Got it from: Amazon


My husband and I just finished reading this book (he read it in two days, I read it in three) and we had to stop every few pages to either 1) take a breather from laughing or, 2) discuss the baffling and horrifying psyche of Tommy Wiseau.

If you've never seen The Room, "the Citizen Kane of bad movies" (Entertainment Weekly), then here's a hint of what's in store for you: one reviewer who saw it during its initial 2003 release said that watching it was "like getting stabbed in the head."  I recommend viewing it at least three times before reading this book.  Watch it once to be horrified by how appalling bad it is, watch it the second time to laugh at the ridiculousness, and watch it a third time to stand in awe of how such a movie could ever have been made in the first place.

How exactly it is made forms the focal point of The Disaster Artist.  Young Greg Sestero, an aspiring actor, befriends the infamous Tommy Wiseau, who later writes, produces, directs and stars in The Room.  As the horror of the filming ensues (at least two crews walked off of the set because they couldn't deal with Tommy), we see flashbacks of how Greg and Tommy became unlikely friends.  They are the ultimate odd couple - Greg is just 19, blonde, good-looking, All-American, with a modeling career and a rising star in L.A.  Tommy Wiseau is a mysterious, fortysomething dark-haired vampire-like creature with a mysterious past, a strange, unidentified personality disorder and a confusing temper.  Trying to figure Tommy out will take up most of the reader's time in this book.  The answers are sketchy at best.  Even Greg, who has known him for fifteen years, has only the vaguest idea of Tommy's closely guarded past, which may involve growing up in Communist Europe and amassing a San Francisco business empire.

I have seen The Room about ten times now, and the one thing I wasn't prepared for is how much more bizarre the behind-the-scenes story is.  Greg himself had a front-row seat to the action, being first the line producer and then one of its stars, as he was convinced by Tommy to play Mark, Johnny's (aka Tommy's) best friend.  The narrative is at its best (and funniest) when describing the baffling filming decisions Tommy makes that waste huge amounts of time and money.  (For instance, he spends half a million dollars on film equipment that goes largely unused, but refuses to rent a $200 air conditioner even though one of the actresses faints from heat on set.) 

Whether or not you read this book, and you really should if you've seen The Room, you need to see the movie.  Be prepared to watch and wonder in disbelief how a man could spend $6 million on a vanity project that is just so mind-numbingly bad. 

"You are tearing me apart, Lisa!"