The Savage Fortress by Sarwat Chadda

Not exactly my kind of book. The Savage Fortress was inspired, writes the author, “by the real Savage Fortress–a maharajah’s palace near Varanasi, India–as well as his life long fascination with the goddess Kali.”

So, this Hindu goddess:

'Goddesses' photo (c) 2008, LASZLO ILYES - license: http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/

And this rather medieval looking maharajah’s palace:

'India - Varanasi - 010 - one of the Maharaja palaces' photo (c) 2007, McKay Savage - license: http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/

And the tag line is: Heroes aren’t made. They’re reborn.

If you’re interested in a reincarnation story in which an British teen of Indian ancestry must fight to keep Ravanna the evil god of the rakshasas (demons) in his place of exile so that Ravanna won’t take over the world and make it into a place of (more) chaos and suffering on a grand scale, then The Savage Fortress is your book. To me, it just felt evil and confusing, although I will admit to a certain train-wreck fascination. The writing certainly ranged from adequate to good, but I’m just repelled and bewildered by Hindu mythology. If everybody is going to come back after death and fight the same battles all over again, what’s the use?

Then there’s the Kali motif that I found deeply disconcerting in this story for middle grade readers:

“Kāli is the Goddess of Time and Change. Although sometimes presented as dark and violent, her earliest incarnation as a figure of annihilator of evil forces still has some influence. . . The figure of Kāli conveys death, destruction, and the consuming aspects of reality. As such, she is also a “forbidden thing”, or even death itself.

Can mercy be found in the heart of her who was born of the stone?
Were she not merciless, would she kick the breast of her lord?
Men call you merciful, but there is no trace of mercy in you, Mother.
You have cut off the heads of the children of others, and these you wear as a garland around your neck.
It matters not how much I call you “Mother, Mother.” You hear me, but you will not listen. From a poet named Rāmprasād Sen in Wikipedia article on Kali.

And our hero, Ash, ends up defeating Ravanna with the power of Kali, the goddess of Darkness and Death. Ewwww. (I’m not too fond of zombies or vampires, either.)

Christmas in Norway, c.1330

“It was the custom for all priests at Christ Church to give supper to the poor. But Kristin had heard that fewer beggars came to Gunnulf Nikulausson than to any of the other priests, and yet–or perhaps this was the very reason–he seated them on the benches next to him in the main hall and received every wanderer like an honored guest. They were served food from his own platter and ale from the priest’s own barrels. The poor would come whenever they felt in need of a supper of stew, but otherwise they preferred to go to the other priests, where they were given porridge and weak ale in the cookhouse.
As soon as the scribe had finished the prayers after the meal, the poor guests wanted to leave. Gunnulf spoke gently to each of them, asking whether they would like to spend the night or whether they needed anything else; but only the blind boy remained. The priest implored in particular the young woman with the child to stay and not take the little one out into the night, but she murmured an excuse and hurried off. Then Gunnulf asked a servant to make sure that Blind Arnstein was given ale and a good bed in the guest room. He put on a hooded cape.
‘You must be tired, Orm and Kristin, and want to go to bed. Audhild will take care of you. You’ll probably be asleep when I return from the church.’
Then Kristin asked to go with him. ‘That’s why I’ve come here,’ she said, fixing her despairing eyes on Gunnulf. Ingrid lent her a dry cloak, and she and Orm joined the small procession departing from the parsonage.
The bells were ringing as if they were right overhead in the black night sky–it wasn’t far to the church. They trudged through the deep, wet, new snow. The weather was calm now, with a few snowflakes still drifting down here and there shimmering faintly in the dark.” ~Kristin Lavransdatter, Mistress of Husaby by Sigrid Undset, translated by Tina Nunnally.

Kristin Lavransdatter is one of my very favorite books, so realistic and yet encouraging. Kristin is a real person: warts, and passions, and good intentions, and stupid decisions, all wrapped up in the life of one fourteenth century woman.

The scene I quoted above takes place near Christmas-time when Kristin is visiting her brother-in-law, a priest, because she is having marriage and family conflicts. She goes to the church to think and pray about all her sins and her life. Orm is her step-son.

I would highly recommend Kristin Lavransdatter as a gift for the wife/mother/reader in your family.

Christmas in Gonzales, Texas, 1835

Friday, December 25

“I awakened before the sun was up and saw that Mama was still by the hearth. I think she stayed up all night. The turkey was roasting on a spit over a low fire. It must have been the wonderful smell that woke me up. I hugged Mama’s waist and said Merry Christmas. She reached into her apron pocket and gave me a little gift wrapped in a scrap of blue velvet and told me to go ahead and open it before the menfolk got up. It was a beautiful ivory button, carved to look like a rose. It came from her mother’s wedding gown and I knew that it was precious to her and worth much because over the years in emergincies, Mama had sold all the other buttons like it. I threw my arms around Mama’s neck and kissed her face, still warm from the heat of the fire. It didn’t matter what else I got; this was the most precious gift I could receive.” ~A Line in the Sand: The Alamo Diary of Lucinda Lawrence by Sherry Garland.

Z-baby (age 11) and I have been reading this Dear America book together as an assignment for her Texas history class at co-op. I thought it showed quite well the hardship and indecision of individual families in the face of the war for Texas independence. Lucinda’s father is against fighting, against the Mexican army, partly because he knows the cost of war. Lucinda’s brother, Willis, goes off to San Antonio to help defend the Alamo. Lucinda herself is conflicted, proud of her brother and her new nation of Texas, but also unsure whether Texas independence is worth the deaths of brave men and the loss of homes and friendships and families.

Bravely stepping over that “line in the sand” to fight against tyranny isn’t an easy decision, and there’s always a cost.

Christmas at Queens Crawley, Hampshire, England, 1823

“Christmas at the Hall was the gayest which had been known there for many a long day.

On Christmas Day a great family gathering took place. All the Crawleys from the Rectory came to dine. Rebecca was as frank and fond of Mrs. Bute as if the other had never been her enemy; she was affectionately interested in the dear girls, and surprised at the progress which they had made in music since her time, and insisted upon encoring one of the duets out of the great song-books which Jim, grumbling, had been forced to bring under his arm from the Rectory. Mrs. Bute, perforce, was obliged to adopt a decent demeanour towards the little adventuress—-of course being free to discourse with her daughters afterwards about the absurd respect with which Sir Pitt treated his sister-in-law. But Jim, who had sat next to her at dinner, declared she was a trump, and one and all of the Rector’s family agreed that the little Rawdon was a fine boy. They respected a possible baronet in the boy, between whom and the title there was only the little sickly pale Pitt Binkie.

The children were very good friends. Pitt Binkie was too little a dog for such a big dog as Rawdon to play with; and Matilda being only a girl, of course not fit companion for a young gentleman who was near eight years old, and going into jackets very soon. He took the command of this small party at once—-the little girl and the little boy following him about with great reverence at such times as he condescended to sport with them. His happiness and pleasure in the country were extreme. The kitchen garden pleased him hugely, the flowers moderately, but the pigeons and the poultry, and the stables when he was allowed to visit them, were delightful objects to him. He resisted being kissed by the Misses Crawley, but he allowed Lady Jane sometimes to embrace him, and it was by her side that he liked to sit when, the signal to retire to the drawing-room being given, the ladies left the gentlemen to their claret—by her side rather than by his mother. For Rebecca, seeing that tenderness was the fashion, called Rawdon to her one evening and stooped down and kissed him in the presence of all the ladies.” ~Vanity Fair by William Makepeace Thackeray

Brown Bear Daughter (age 17) has been reading Vanity Fair for her senior English class, and she is not impressed with Miss Becky Sharp nor with the near-perfect Amelia Sedley. I find it interesting that the characters of Gone With the Wind’s Scarlett O’Hara and her sister-in-law Melanie Wilkes are based on Thackeray’s characters, written so many years before. “Adventuresses” and simpering young ladies and hypocrites and the like never go out of style. But Christmas does sometimes make us all behave ourselves for a while and if not remember our better selves, at least act as if we do.

“I mean the baronet and the rector, not our brothers—but the former, who hate each other all the year round, become quite loving at Christmas.”
~ William Makepeace Thackeray, Vanity Fair.

The Voyage of Lucy P. Simmons by Barbara Mariconda

“Against a brilliant fireworks display of glittering diamond dust, the Lucy P. Simmons carried us off together on what I knew would be a most spectacular voyage.”

The preceding sentence may sound as if it could be the opening sentence of a middle grade fantasy novel called The Voyage of Lucy P. Simmons, but it is instead the closing sentence of a book that begins with tragedy and ends with to be continued, my least favorite ending. I even like ambiguous endings better than tbc endings—at least with ambiguous I get to think up my own ending without fear that I will someday be contradicted or proved wrong by the author’s official sequel.

The tragedy at the beginning is the death of Lucy’s parents. Lucy lives in Maine, 1906, and she and her parents are involved in a boating accident. Lucy is the only survivor. Now her Uncle Victor and Aunt Margaret have become her temporary guardians, and Uncle Victor is out to get Lucy’s inheritance, her father’s house and her fortune. If Lucy can only find her other surviving relative, Aunt Pru, she knows that Uncle Victor’s evil plans will be thwarted. And it seems that the house itself is helping Lucy as she tries to fight, in a ladylike early twentieth century manner, against her uncle.

The magic in this book is odd– a magical mist that appears to point out important items when necessary and a magical flute that belonged to Lucy’s father. The flute sort plays by itself when danger is near, but the warning is too late and too inconsistent to do much good. I could never identify with Lucy too well. She is alternately headstrong and foolish, then restrained and unable to decide to do anything. I wanted her to try to tell people about what Uncle Victor was doing. Or run away. Or scream. Or something.

Then, when Lucy’s rescuer comes, we are unsure as whether to trust the mysterious Marni or not. It is implied that Marni is a sea witch, but I was never sure whether sea witches in this story are good and helpful or whether we’re being set up for a betrayal in part two. And so at the end of the book the main characters sail off for Australia (yes, from Maine), leaving Uncle Vic–and Lucy’s old life–behind.

“Then as we sailed out toward the open sea, I vowed never to look back again.”

This melodrama mixed with magic just didn’t work for me. I felt unsettled and dissatisfied as skimmed toward the non-end of the story. If you’re willing to invest in a prequel to a voyage to Australia, then you may get a different vibe out of the whole novel. Good luck to you, matey.

Christmas in Rheims, France, 496 AD

A battle was fought at a place called Tolbiac, not far from the present city of Cologne. In this battle the Franks were nearly beaten, for the Alemanni were fierce and brave men and skillful fighters. When Clovis saw his soldiers driven back several times he began to lose hope, but at that moment he thought of his pious wife and of the powerful God of whom she had so often spoken. Then he raised his hands to heaven and earnestly prayed to that God.

“O God of Clotilde,” he cried, “help me in this my hour of need. If thou wilt give me victory now I will believe in thee.”

Almost immediately the course of the battle began to change in favor of the Franks. Clovis led his warriors forward once more, and this time the Alemanni fled before them in terror. The Franks gained a great victory, and they believed it was in answer to the prayer of their king.

When Clovis returned home he did not forget his promise. He told Clotilde how he had prayed to her God for help and how his prayer had been heard, and he said he was now ready to become a Christian. Clotilde was very happy on hearing this, and she arranged that her husband should be baptized in the church of Rheims on the following Christmas day.

Meanwhile Clovis issued a proclamation to his people declaring that he was a believer in Christ, and giving orders that all the images and temples of the heathen gods should be destroyed. This was immediately done, and many of the people followed his example and became Christians.

Clovis was a very earnest and fervent convert. One day the bishop of Rheims, while instructing him in the doctrines of Christianity, described the death of Christ. As the bishop proceeded Clovis became much excited, and at last jumped up from his seat and exclaimed:

“Had I been there with my brave Franks I would have avenged His wrongs.”

On Christmas day a great multitude assembled in the church at Rheims to witness the baptism of the king. A large number of his fierce warriors were baptized at the same time. The service was performed with great ceremony by the bishop of Rheims, and the title of “Most Christian King” was conferred on Clovis by the Pope. This title was ever afterwards borne by the kings of France.
~Famous Men of the Middle Ages by John H. Haaren.

Saturday Review of Books: December 1, 2012

“Books, to the reading child, are so much more than books — they are dreams and knowledge, they are a future, and a past.” ~Esther Meynell

SatReviewbutton

Welcome to the Saturday Review of Books at Semicolon. Here’s how it usually works. Find a book review on your blog posted sometime during the previous week. The review doesn’t have to be a formal sort of thing. You can link to your thoughts on a particular book, a few ideas inspired by reading the book, your evaluation, quotations, whatever.

Then on Friday night/Saturday, you post a link here at Semicolon in Mr. Linky to the specific post where you’ve written your book review. Don’t link to your main blog page because this kind of link makes it hard to find the book review, especially when people drop in later after you’ve added new content to your blog. In parentheses after your name, add the title of the book you’re reviewing. This addition will help people to find the reviews they’re most interested in reading.

After linking to your own reviews, you can spend as long as you want reading the reviews of other bloggers for the week and adding to your wishlist of books to read. That’s how my own TBR list has become completely unmanageable and the reason I can’t join any reading challenges. I have my own personal challenge that never ends.

1. Carol in Oregon (November Reads)
2. Hope (Books read in November)
3. Lazygal (Standing in Another Man’s Grave)
4. Lazygal (Inside Scientology)
5. Lazygal (The Pause Principle)
6. Lazygal (When Organizing Isn’t Enough)
7. Lazygal (Steampunk Poe)
8. Lazygal (Being Dead)
9. Lazygal (The Ghost Writer)
10. Mental multivitamin (Reading life review)
11. Reading World (Illuminations. A Novel of Hildegard von Bingen)
12. Ink Slinger
13. Janet (unChristian)
14. Teachergirl (Fellowship of the Ring)
15. Seth@Collateral Bloggage (It Starts With Food)
16. Thoughts of Joy (The Night Season)
17. Thoughts of Joy (Every Day)
18. Linda @ Soli Deo Gloria (Advent: Preparing Our Hearts)
19. Nova @ My Seryniti (The Hobbit)
20. Becky (The Purpose of Man)
21. Becky (2 Short Story Collections, Christmas)
22. Becky (Everyday)
23. Becky (Legend of the Wandering King)
24. Becky (Catching Fire and Mockingjay)
25. Barbara H. (Thriving at College: Make Great Friends, Keep Your Faith, and…)
26. Alice@Supratentorial(November Reading)
27. Alice@Supratentorial(Advent Reading)
28. Alice@Supratentorial(The Receptionist)
29. Glynn (Christmas at Eagle Pond)
30. Glynn (I Told My Soul to Sing)
31. JoAnne @ The Fairytale Nerd (Unspoken)
32. JoAnne @ The Fairytale Nerd (Deity by Jennifer L. Armentrout)
33. Beckie @ ByTheBook (The Breath of Dawn)
34. Beckie @ ByTheBook (Every Perfect Gift)
35. Beckie @ ByTheBook (Resurrect)
36. Beth@Weavings (Money in the Bank)
37. Beth@Weavings (Lassie Come-Home)
38. Amy @ Hope Is the Word (November Nightstand)
39. Amy @ Hope Is the Word (Christmas-themed chapter books)
40. Amy @ Hope Is the Word (St. Nicholas Day books)
41. Amy @ Hope Is the Word (Little White Horse)
42. Shonya @ Learning How Much I Don’t Know (Jewel of Persia)
43. Anna @ Diary of an Eccentric (A Walk in the Park)
44. Anna @ Diary of an Eccentric (King Solomon’s Ring)
45. Anna @ Diary of an Eccentric (The Lost Art of Mixing)

Powered by… Mister Linky’s Magical Widgets.

Christmas in the UK, c.2011

“It was early morning. Tilly turned over in her bed. As she moved her feet, she heard the rustle of the Christmas stocking. She moved her toes again, to feel the delicious weight of it. She reached out for the clock on the bedside table. Six o’clock. It was still too early to wake up Mom and Dad, to go rushing to their room to open her presents.

She turned on the bedside light, reached down, and pulled the stocking up so she could see it properly. It was stuffed to the top with small packages all wrapped up in shiny paper with silver stars. Tilly pulled at the top one, undid one end, and then put it back, suddenly guilty. She must wait for morning.

The bubble of happiness inside her was growing bigger and stronger. It was Christmas. Mom would be coming downstairs for once, to be with her and Dad all day. And she had a new friend at last. A girl a little like her, and a little bit like Ally . . .

Tilly lay quietly in bed, waiting for the day to begin.” ~Tilly’s Moonlight Garden by Julia Green.

Tilly’s Moonlight Garden is the definition of a quiet, gentle fantasy. Not much really happens. A little girl named Tilly moves to a new house, leaving her best friend Ally behind. Tilly’ mother is having a difficult pregnancy, lots of bed rest, and Tilly is worried about her mum and and about making friends at her new school. Led by a wild fox, Tilly finds a magical secret garden behind her new home, and she meets a mysterious friend there.

It was never clear to me how old Tilly was in the book, and that was a bit bothersome. She acts rather young, maybe seven, but she also thinks that others would judge her too old to play with a dollhouse, maybe ten or eleven? She’s a lonely little girl, however old she is, and it’s also not really clear whether the fantastical events (a friendly fox and a ghostly girl) in the story are real or just a figment of Tilly’s fertile imagination. I tend to think probably meant to be real, but it’s sort of left open to the reader’s judgment.

Young readers with the patience to see this one through will find some delightful echoes of Philippa Pearce’s classic Tom’s Midnight Garden and Frances Hodgson Burnett’s The Secret Garden. Those who are looking for fast action and thrills had better look elsewhere. Anglophiles like me might also enjoy this very British story of a lonesome little girl and her fantasy friends in a secret garden.

Author Julia Green’s website.

Signed by Zelda by Kate Feiffer

This book is for all those fans of graphology, the study of handwriting. If you have one in your life, Signed by Zelda is the book. Lucy, the female protagonist of the story, is nearly obsessed with handwriting. She gathers handwriting samples wherever she goes. She looks up samples of famous signatures on the internet. She knows how to tell if a signature is a forgery. She even knows how to forge signatures herself, but she’s still working on being able to replicate John Hancock’s signature.

However, the book is only partly about Lucy and her interest in graphology. It’s also about Nicky, the boy who lives in the apartment above Lucy’s and is always in time-out, sent there by his shouting and uncaring dad. (Mom absconded to India.) And it’s about Pigeon, a talking, pie-eating pigeon, and Grandma Zelda, who’s Nicky’s sometimes forgetful but excellent pie-making grandmother. Grandma Zelda’s specialty is Zeldaberry pies (recipe in the back of the book).

When Grandma Zelda disappears, Nicky, Lucy and Pigeon band together to find her. This final third of the book is both the best and the weakest part of the story. It’s best because we finally get to see the three friends working together to solve a problem, the disappearance of Grandma Zelda. But it’s the weakest because Nicky’s dad, the person responsible for Grandma’s vanishing, was just too bad for his eventual “redemption” to be believable. He’s bad, bad, bad, all through the book; then he apologizes and everything is fine. (Not a spoiler. It’s pretty obvious throughout the book who the bad guy is and what his nefarious plan is.)

Signed by Zelda is quirky, sort of a stretch on the believability scale, and a delight for anyone who’s a fan of handwriting analysis–or pigeons. Lucy even has rules, called LUCY’S WRITING RULES:

LWR #1: Watch your back around paper stabbers.
LWR #2: Confused people have confused writing.
LWR #3: Real friends write with real letters.
LWR #4: You are your I.
LWR #5: Every signature has a secret.

Context is everything, and you would probably have to read the book to get the full significance of Lucy’s Writing Rules. I just wonder what Lucy would make of my signature?

'Signature' photo (c) 2008, Jim Hammer - license: http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0/

Reading Questions

First of all, I have to quote the lovely and erudite Ms. Mental Multivitamin:

“In a perfect world, it is what I do all day long: Read. Talk about what I’m reading, what others are reading. Read about what I’m reading, what others are reading. Write, often about reading. Read some more. Sleep.”

1. What book (a classic?) do you hate? Oh, sad to say, I have several modern, twentieth century “classics” that I couldn’t stomach: Lonesome Dove by Larry McMurtry, Ragtime by E.L. Doctorow, A Prayer for Owen Meany by John Irving. I read about a third of each of these novels, enough to be able to say I gave it a real chance.
Then, there are those two famous, acclaimed AMerican authors whose entire body of work I don’t much care for: John Steinbeck and Ernest Hemingway. I am intelligent enough to understand the attraction and the accolades; I just don’t share the love for either author. “Hate” may be a little too strong, but I wouldn’t give much more than a nickel for a novel by either man unless I was desperate for reading material. (I have been desperate before, and I have read my share of Steinbeck and Hemingway. I don’t have time for any more.)

2. To what extent do you judge people by what they read?
If any of the above are your favorites, I don’t judge you at all. I just figure you are privy to some information or understanding that I am not. If anything, I tend to judge myself lacking for not seeing what others see in various popular and acclaimed books.

3. What television series would you recommend as the literariest?
Literariest as in most thought-provoking: LOST or maybe John Adams (miniseries) or Pride and Prejudice (yes, the one with Colin Firth, of course).

4. Describe your ideal home library.
Bookcases line the walls from floor to ceiling. Couches and comfy chairs are in the middle. There’s at least one window with a window seat. I’ve always wanted a window seat. That’s about it.
I already have the floor to ceiling books. Our furnishings fall into the shabby-but-comfortable category. But I have no window seat.

5. Books or sex?
Really? Render unto Caesar. Each in its own place in its own time.

6. How do you decide what to read next?
I sort of wander around my house and look at the shelves, and then I look in my library basket. Then, I might check my Kindle to see what I have there that’s unread. And I just pick something.

7. How much do you talk about books in real life (outside of the blogging community)?
I talk about books a lot. Sometimes too much. I recommend books to people frequently. I give books to people. I try not to be obnoxious, but I probably am.