What's Your Dark Element?

So fun. Had to steal this from Caribou's Mom who is Earth whereas I am:

Your Dark Element is Metal

You are a very formal and elegant person. You are neat to the point of being meticulous. You are both humble and proper. You never want to be a burden on others. You are a bit cool and aloof to people you don't know well. It takes you a while to warm up. You can be bossy and inflexible when you feel stressed. You don't budge easily.

What's Your Dark Element?

 

Do you care to share?

The Haunting of Hill House by Shirley Jackson

"And so the old house has just been sitting here." Luke put out a tentative finger and touched the marble cupid gingerly. "Nothing in it touched, nothing used, nothing here wanted by anyone any more, just sitting here thinking."

"And waiting," Eleanor said.

"And waiting," the doctor confirmed. "Essentially, he went on slowly, "the evil is the house itself, I think. It has enchained and destroyed its people and their lives, it is a place of contained ill will. Well. Tomorrow you will see it all. The Sandersons put in electricity and plumbing and a telephone when they first thought to live here, but otherwise nothing has been changed.:

"Well," Luke said after a little silence, "I'm sure we will all be very comfortable here."

Right. Very comfortable in a house where Dr. Montague has brought three assistants (Eleanor, Luke and Theodora) to help him analyze the 'supernatural manifestations' which might take place in this infamous house? Through Jackson's talented writing, the reader knows darn well that no one is going to be comfortable, quite possibly even when the tale concludes.

Totally Addicted to The Long Way Home. Listened to It Four Times Over In My Red Beetle And It's Still Not Enough.

"The Long Way Home"

Well I stumbled in the darkness
I'm lost and alone
Though I said I'd go before us
And show the way back home
Is there a light up ahead
I can't hold on very long
Forgive me pretty baby but I always take the long way home


Money's just something you throw
Off the back of a train
Got a handful of lightening
A hat full of rain
And I know that I said
I'd never do it again
And I love you pretty baby but I always take the long way home


I put food on the table
And roof overhead
But I'd trade it all tomorrow
For The highway instead
Watch your back if I should tell you
Loves the only thing I've ever known
One thing for sure pretty baby I always take the long way home


You know I love you baby
More than the whole wide world
I'm your woman
You know you are my pearl
Let's go out past the party lights
We can finally be alone
Come with me and we can take the long way home
Come with me, together we can take the long way home
Come with me, together we can take the long way home

Listen to Norah sing it here.

Ivan and Misha

They lay quiet, looking up at the sky. "Which do you think is bigger," Misha asked, "the Grand Canyon or the Milky Way?"

"Wrong question, Mishka. The point is not how big they are, it's how small we are."

"But together, you and me," Misha had said, "we're as big and grand as this canyon and all the stars put together."

What a tender book this is. I'm not Russian, I'm not a twin, I'm not especially close to my brother, and I'm not homosexual. But Michael Alenyikov writes with such compassion and eloquence, that these two brothers and their father became instantly endearing to me.

Through a series of separate-but-connected chapters we read of their lives; the way their father has brought them to America, sparing them the full story of their mother's death, but fulfilling his promise to them. Now he is fragile, even dying, but he loves his sons and on this they can rely.

Ivan is manic depressive. When he's "up" he's in a frantic state, once not sleeping for nine days in a row, driving his taxis around New York, talking with his fares, calling his brother with hare-brained schemes or consolations depending on his mood.

Misha is the steadier one, in my opinion, of these twins. The bond between them is flawed but unbreakable. He will set aside everything when Ivan calls, ready to be there for Ivan's needs which in many ways answer his own.

Ivan and Misha is a powerful look at America. At homosexuality. At family. It reads with a lyricism I would have thought impossible given such emotionally laden themes. It touched me quite deeply, especially when Alenyikov wrote of their father, or the way I felt that neither Russia nor America was their home. Aren't many of us 'strangers in this land'?

The author, Micahel Alenyikov, has offered to send a signed copy of this book to one winner (U.S. and Canada only, please). Simply leave a comment to enter the drawing.

Find other reviews here:

Tuesday, September 6th: Take Me Away

Wednesday, September 7th: Unabridged Chick

Thursday, September 8th: A Bookish Affair

Monday, September 12th: Lit Endeavors

Tuesday, September 13th: Stuff as Dreams are Made On

Wednesday, September 14th: Literature and a Lens

Thursday, September 15th: The Reading Life

Monday, September 19th: Wordsmithonia

Tuesday, September 20th: Regular Rumination

Thursday, September 22nd: Bibrary Bookslut

Friday, September 23rd: Ready When You Are, CB

Monday, September 26th: Col Reads

Tuesday, September 27th: Books Are Like Candy Corn

Wednesday, September 28th: The Book Pirate

Thursday, September 29th: Stella Matutina

Winner of the signed copy is Marie of Boston Bibliophile. Congratulations, Marie!

Don't Look Now by Daphne du Maurier

"Don't look now," John said to his wife, "but there are a couple of old girls two tables away who are trying to hypnotise me."

Laura, quick on cue, made an elaborate pretence of yawning, then tilted her head as though searching the skies for a non-existent aeroplane.

"Right behind you," he added. "That's why you can't turn round at once-it would be much too obvious."

And so begins the terrifying story by Daphne du Maurier. John and Laura are vacationing in Italy; John is hoping that Laura will be able to overcome "the numb despair that had seized her since (her) child died."

Apparently, one of the two women who have been staring at them has psychic powers. She is able to see Laura's daughter, and she tells them not to be worried. Christine is sitting right between them laughing. Laura is overjoyed, and immensely comforted by this idea, but John is instantly on guard.

"He felt himself held, unable to move, and an impending sense of doom, of tragedy, came upon him. His whole being sagged, as it were, in apathy, and he thought, "This is the end, there is no escape, no future." A strange foreboding, to be sure, for what is to follow.

When they return to their hotel, after traversing the alleys and bridges of Venice, they discover their son is in need of an appendectomy. Because he is away at his boarding school, Laura decides she must fly to him at once.  John can follow in the car. Arrangements are hastily made, and Laura departs.

However, John sees her with the two women in a ferry passing them downstream. What has happened? Has Laura missed her flight? Is there some emergency of which he is unaware? No matter how hard he tries, and he does work frantically to solve this misunderstanding, there is no solution until the conclusion of this tale.

What a masterful story teller du Maurier is. My favorite book of hers will always be Rebecca, but this short story? It evokes so much of what terrifies me: losing a child, becoming lost myself, chasing someone in a dream who is always just one step away, misunderstandings between a spouse which cannot be bridged. It doesn't take the bizarre, although that is certainly included, to make this story any scarier than it is.

Banned Book Week Meme

In anticipation of Banned Book Week (September 24 through October 1), I have posted the top 100 banned or challenged books from the American Library Association.

1. Harry Potter (series), by J.K. Rowling

2. Alice series, by Phyllis Reynolds Naylor

3. The Chocolate War, by Robert Cormier

4. And Tango Makes Three, by Justin Richardson/Peter Parnell

5. Of Mice and Men, by John Steinbeck

6. I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings, by Maya Angelou

7. Scary Stories (series), by Alvin Schwartz

8. His Dark Materials (series), by Philip Pullman

9. ttyl; ttfn; l8r g8r (series), by Myracle, Lauren

10. The Perks of Being a Wallflower, by Stephen Chbosky

11. Fallen Angels, by Walter Dean Myers

12. It’s Perfectly Normal, by Robie Harris

13. Captain Underpants (series), by Dav Pilkey

14. The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, by Mark Twain

15. The Bluest Eye, by Toni Morrison

16. Forever, by Judy Blume

17. The Color Purple, by Alice Walker

18. Go Ask Alice, by Anonymous

19. Catcher in the Rye, by J.D. Salinger

20. King and King, by Linda de Haan

21. To Kill A Mockingbird, by Harper Lee

22. Gossip Girl (series), by Cecily von Ziegesar

23. The Giver, by Lois Lowry

24. In the Night Kitchen, by Maurice Sendak

25. Killing Mr. Griffen, by Lois Duncan

26. Beloved, by Toni Morrison

27. My Brother Sam Is Dead, by James Lincoln Collier

28. Bridge To Terabithia, by Katherine Paterson

29. The Face on the Milk Carton, by Caroline B. Cooney

30. We All Fall Down, by Robert Cormier

31. What My Mother Doesn’t Know, by Sonya Sones

32. Bless Me, Ultima, by Rudolfo Anaya

33. Snow Falling on Cedars, by David Guterson

34. The Earth, My Butt, and Other Big, Round Things, by Carolyn Mackler

35. Angus, Thongs, and Full Frontal Snogging, by Louise Rennison

36. Brave New World, by Aldous Huxley

37. It’s So Amazing, by Robie Harris

38. Arming America, by Michael Bellasiles

39. Kaffir Boy, by Mark Mathabane

40. Life is Funny, by E.R. Frank

41. Whale Talk, by Chris Crutcher

42. The Fighting Ground, by Avi

43. Blubber, by Judy Blume

44. Athletic Shorts, by Chris Crutcher

45. Crazy Lady, by Jane Leslie Conly

46. Slaughterhouse-Five, by Kurt Vonnegut

47. The Adventures of Super Diaper Baby, by George Beard

48. Rainbow Boys, by Alex Sanchez

49. One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest, by Ken Kesey

50. The Kite Runner, by Khaled Hosseini

51. Daughters of Eve, by Lois Duncan

52. The Great Gilly Hopkins, by Katherine Paterson

53. You Hear Me?, by Betsy Franco

54. The Facts Speak for Themselves, by Brock Cole

55. Summer of My German Soldier, by Bette Green

56. When Dad Killed Mom, by Julius Lester

57. Blood and Chocolate, by Annette Curtis Klause

58. Fat Kid Rules the World, by K.L. Going

59. Olive’s Ocean, by Kevin Henkes

60. Speak, by Laurie Halse Anderson

61. Draw Me A Star, by Eric Carle

62. The Stupids (series), by Harry Allard

63. The Terrorist, by Caroline B. Cooney

64. Mick Harte Was Here, by Barbara Park

65. The Things They Carried, by Tim O’Brien

66. Roll of Thunder, Hear My Cry, by Mildred Taylor

67. A Time to Kill, by John Grisham

68. Always Running, by Luis Rodriguez

69. Fahrenheit 451, by Ray Bradbury

70. Harris and Me, by Gary Paulsen

71. Junie B. Jones (series), by Barbara Park

72. Song of Solomon, by Toni Morrison

73. What’s Happening to My Body Book, by Lynda Madaras

74. The Lovely Bones, by Alice Sebold

75. Anastasia (series), by Lois Lowry

76. A Prayer for Owen Meany, by John Irving

77. Crazy: A Novel, by Benjamin Lebert

78. The Joy of Gay Sex, by Dr. Charles Silverstein

79. The Upstairs Room, by Johanna Reiss

80. A Day No Pigs Would Die, by Robert Newton Peck

81. Black Boy, by Richard Wright

82. Deal With It!, by Esther Drill

83. Detour for Emmy, by Marilyn Reynolds

84. So Far From the Bamboo Grove, by Yoko Watkins

85. Staying Fat for Sarah Byrnes, by Chris Crutcher

86. Cut, by Patricia McCormick

87. Tiger Eyes, by Judy Blume

88. The Handmaid’s Tale, by Margaret Atwood

89. Friday Night Lights, by H.G. Bissenger

90. A Wrinkle in Time, by Madeline L’Engle

91. Julie of the Wolves, by Jean Craighead George

92. The Boy Who Lost His Face, by Louis Sachar

93. Bumps in the Night, by Harry Allard

94. Goosebumps (series), by R.L. Stine

95. Shade’s Children, by Garth Nix

96. Grendel, by John Gardner

97. The House of the Spirits, by Isabel Allende

98. I Saw Esau, by Iona Opte

99. Are You There, God? It’s Me, Margaret, by Judy Blume

100. America: A Novel, by E.R. Frank

The titles I've read I've struck through.
The titles I own are in italics.
The titles I want to read are in bold.

And now I want to know...

• Are there any you've loved?
• Any that shock your sensibilities?
• Any that you particularly disliked, although you wouldn't 'ban' them?
• Any which made you cry?
• Any that you want to read for Banned Book Week or beyond?

(I'll give my answers in the comments, but just a quick thought: my son loved Captain Underpants and Harry Potter. I would kiss both Dav Pilkey, and J. K. Rowling, just for making my boy long to read past the hours I read aloud to him. Also, this list only makes me want to read A Prayer for Owen Meany that much more, and if you don't want to cry? Don't read Mick Harte Was Here. Just don't.)

"Ah," said my mother when she saw my blog for the first time. "This is the perfect way for you to have friends. You don't have to talk to them this way. You can just comment, or not, as you wish."

She knows me well, this mother of mine. She knows I alternately long for relationship and run from obligation. Because I have a tendency to jump in and Take Ownership for Everything I often become overwhelmed in my friendships. Occasionally I have to take a step away and stay in bed for most of Sunday as I did yesterday.

This soothes me, but it doesn't assuage the complicated feelings I have about friendship for long. I want friends. I love friends. But, I love alone time, too. I love isolation. Recuperation. Time for me.

"So?" you ask. "Why write about it on your book blog?"

Because as we come to the first day of Book Blogger Appreciation Week I am simultaneously humbled by the mentions I've received and embarrassed that I don't participate. I don't write my posts to be appreciated as much as I write them to share what I've read. To record the novels I've loved for my own future reference, and perhaps along the way, to pique your interest. If we find a connection between ourselves and books, that makes me happy.

But I am abysmal, worse than horrible, at leaving comments. Especially now in the "beginning of the year". I can barely get through the pile of papers on my desk, the almost daily meetings, the plans, the data collection, the grouping of abilities, the day to day efforts which make up my life in September. To make matters worse, I am abysmal lately at connecting to blogs which are meaningful to me.

I thank Mel U, Parrish, Kristen and Andi for mentioning Dolce Bellezza on their posts today. I thank those who read my posts, or leave comments, or participate in the Japanese Literature Challenge and above all have patience for my tendency to be less involved than a committed book blogger should be. I appreciate you all.

Under The Dome by Stephen King

So. The Dome. To his literal readers, the Dome which King created could be likened to an invisible shield covering Chester's Mill which when rapped with one's fingers resonates with the same sound one would hear when rapping on an upside down Pyrex bowl.

Or, it could be a symbol for anything which traps a community, a people, a nation. It could be, for example, a dictatorship. Poverty. Prejudice. Sin. (I realize I'm taking it to an esoteric level here, but listen; I could never be content with an interpretation of the Dome as some bowl from my kitchen. Besides, I don't even own anything made of Pyrex.)

The people under the Dome are trapped. They are caught with limited resources, an evil selectman who longs for power, and their own base tendencies. For some, this means resorting to suicide. Others will turn to violence. Only a few emerge as true leaders who are capable of thinking of others, finding a solution, exercising extreme courage and brilliance in solving the problem.

When I was a little girl, I remember lying in bed at night and thinking, "What if...? What if our world is not the only world? What if I am only one small child in some small corner of an endless array of planets? What if I'm not nearly as important, if no one I know is really as important, as we all suppose we are? And, what if we are at the mercy of an even greater world which spins much more powerfully than our own?" I can't explain how helpless, how insignificant, I felt when I mentally meandered down that path. But, it's a place that King takes us, and in so doing causes us to consider the power of kindness. Not doing wrong to one another. Or, at the very least, taking pity.

At the end of the day? I'm glad I read this book. If you're a fan of Stephen King, you'll probably love this book.

Still Under The Dome

So many conflicting feelings about Stephen King's Under the Dome. Like the non-centric circles my Accelerated Math class drew last week, I have at least as many thoughts overlapping as in the drawing above.

The book started out fabulously. Could-not-put-it-down-good. That's rare, for me, especially with a novel I would consider of the pulp fiction variety. A dome, from literally out of the blue, descends on Chester's Mill, Maine, completely cutting off a section of the town. Cruise missiles can't destroy it, neither can a super strength acid developed by the government in the hopes of creating some kind of escape for the people. In typical Stephen King form we have sarcasm (which I find hilarious) and a lens for examining 21st century America (which I find to be sadly accurate). But, we also find his mockery of religion. Or, at least of those who supposedly uphold it.

Stephen King knows the Word. I don't know if he's a Christian, I don't know where he stands on faith. But, I do know that he knows scripture. Short of adding chapter and verse, he quotes whole sentences from the Bible quite accurately. Example: One of the evil men running the town says, "And the third angel sounded, and there fell a great star from heaven! Burning as if it were a lamp!'

"We just saw that!"

Chef nodded. His eyes were fixed on the black smutch where Air Ireland 179 had met her end. "And the name of the star is called Wormwood, and many men died because they were made bitter." Are you bitter, Sanders?"

"No!" Andy assured him.

The first quote is from Revelation 8:10; the second is Revelation 8:11.  This unnerves me because I don't know where King is going with his knowledge. If he uses it to advocate good vs. evil, or better yet the Enemy's defeat, great.  But, if I'm on page 779 (which I am) of 1072, and all I'm left holding at the end is a pile of lies underneath dust and ashes, I won't be too thrilled.

I'm going to see if I can finish it tonight because 100 other books are now calling my name, and King's voice is growing ever fainter in their vehemence. I just have to see what he does with the Dome: why has it appeared, will it go away, and even more importantly, will "Wormwood" be defeated? (Don't tell me if you know!)

Answering Autumn's Call

No one could be more hopeful toward autumn than I. Last week, the temperatures in Illinois were upward of 95 degrees Fahrenheit. In my un-air-conditioned classroom, at the top corner of the second floor, we were well over 100. District decided that all the upper floor classrooms should come down to the lower floor, so third through fifth grade were put in the windowless gym where no one could see, or hear, the film Rio which was shown against one of the brick walls. On Friday, school was closed for the students, and I sat at my desk with three fans directed only on me trying to read my Nook in between grading what papers I had.

So, autumn.

With autumn comes the RIP VI challenge. Wonderful opportunity to read gothic romance, mystery, suspense, and even horror. I've already read Strangers, and The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. I'm beginning Stephen King's Under The Dome curious if this will be one of the few books of his I'll be able to finish. Every time I start The Stand, and there have been many occasions, I have to lay it down in terror. He's great at writing of the grotesque, but what alarms me the most is when he brings in evil. Not good at reading that, letting that enter my spirit. So, we'll see what he does with The Dome.

Also, Bookssnob is hosting a read-along of Persuasion beginning the 18th of September. Her announcement post spoke eloquently of the connections between her life and this novel; it moved me sufficiently enough to join in her read along. It's been a few years since I last read Persuasion. Too long, perhaps, for such a noble classic.

Surely you know about  Discovering Daphne in October? Savidge Reads and Novel Insights are hosting a few read-alongs of Daphne DuMaurier's books, which they announced earlier this summer, and I've been eagerly awaiting October ever since. The House on The Strand is scheduled for October 16; Don't Look Now and Other Stories is planned for October 23; and Rebecca will be read for October 30. (Is there a better autumnal read than Rebecca? I think not.)

So eager for cooler weather. So eager to share great challenges and read-alongs with you.

Strangers

The girl on the front is in perfect silhouette. Turn to the back of the novel, however, and you will find her image blurred. Fading. Disappearing for an unknown reason into an unknown place...

As so often happens with me when I conclude a work of Japanese literature, I am completely entranced by the mood. Caught up in the poetic imagery, the sensation of being there with the characters, living through their actions and experiencing their emotions. But, I don't know how to write about it exactly, how to capture the aura the author has created.

So it is with Yamada's novel, Strangers. Hideo tells his story from the first person narrative, unfolding the events as they have occurred to him until its shocking conclusion. His parents died when he was twelve, and to compound his loneliness we find he has asked his wife for a divorce to which she has agreed since their marriage had become little more than indifference. "The truth was, she too felt an emptiness in our marriage, and once she had had sometime to think about it, she wholeheartedly embraced the idea of divorce. We did hit some rough spots on the way to the financial settlement, but no one would have termed the divorce a messy one. At the very least, compared to muddling on endlessly in a lifeless marriage, donning the same old benign faces day in and day out as we went about our lives together but apart, the decisive action had awakened in me a whole new zest for life."

One night, he wanders into the Asakusa Variety Hall and notices a man resembling his father. More than resembling his father, this man is eerily like his father in every way. Hideo follows him and finds himself at an apartment with his mother and father who were exactly the same age they were when they died, although Hideo himself is now in his late forties. He feels energized by their company, longs for further communication together, and returns several times to feel the comfort one's parents can give. "Don't be a stranger," they tell him when they bid him farewell at the end of their evenings.

At the same time, he becomes involved with his neighbor, Kei, who has asked him to share a bottle of champagne with him one evening. Although he turned her away, upset at the news that his wife is being courted by one of his friends, Kei and Hideo eventually become quite close. Except that she will not let him see her torso unsheathed, nor let him touch it. Apparently, she is self-conscious about a terrible burn which has left her disfigured.

Hideo's world becomes centered around the relationship he has with his parents and with his new love. He is shocked when she tells him that he looks so very tired, so drawn, so aged. How can this be, he wonders, when he has never felt stronger in his life? When he looks at his hands, they appear completely normal to him. When he looks in the mirror, he sees himself as he has always been.

But what is real? Who is real? What does he learn from those he loves, or from those who love him? This is the central theme of the novel, toward which we are catapulted from the beginning to the end...an unnerving conclusion to Hideo, as well as ourselves. With his novel Strangers, Yamada brilliantly examines one's sources of comfort. Of love. And the effect our lives have on one another.

(Find more thoughts from Bookfool, Bookie Mee, Savidge Reads, Things Mean A Lot, The Reading Life, and The Parrish Lantern.)