The Courage To Question

Book Review: Dear Martin by Nic Stone

The coming-of-age story has been a common subject of art and literature across human history, in no small part due to its universal nature. The trials, challenges, and changes surrounding the transition from childhood to adulthood are both timeless, and specific to the times and places and cultures where they occur.

The world that Homer's Telemachus faced was quite different than that of John Grimes, the protagonist of James Baldwin's Go Tell It on the Mountain. Yet their stories have much in common. The coming-of-age genre is all about seeing the world through different eyes. Baldwin captures the very essence of the genre in his novel when he writes:

"... only when the road has, all abruptly and treacherously, and with an absoluteness that permits no argument, turned or dropped or risen is one able to see all that one could not have seen from any other place."

The protagonist finds, whether they are Telemachus, Huck Finn, or Jean Louise Finch, that their childhood views on how the world works no longer fit what they see and feel.

In Nic Stone's Dear Martin, high school senior Justyce McAllister finds himself facing a world that no longer plays nicely with his childhood conceptions. Words and actions take on a different weight, values are challenged, and the things he has taken for granted have lost their stability. Feeling lost in this new world, he looks for a foundation - a mentor - to help guide him through these changes. In his journal he begins writing "letters" to Martin (Dr. Martin Luther King); nothing existential or philosophical, simply the events of his days, and the doubts and questions of a young person dealing with huge changes.

Needless to say, the late Dr. King does not answer Justyce's letters, anymore than the long-absent Odysseus answered his son Telemachus. The passage from the innocence of childhood into the world of the adult is a highly personal one, there are no pat answers. In her closing note to Dear Martin, author Nic Stone sums up Justyce's path this way:

"... while the answers can be hard to come by, the point is to find the courage to ask the questions in the first place. I hope his journey will give you a way to identify your own questions. And answers."

The goal of the coming-of-age story, and I believe, literature in general, is to provoke questions, not necessarily to provide answers. Life is a highly personal journey; we should beware of anyone or anything that proclaims to have the answer for everything. Even if answers are hard to come by, it is vitally important to ask the questions, both of our world, and of ourselves.

If Jackson Pollock Could Write

Book Review: Big Lonesome by Joseph Scapellato

The artist Jackson Pollock was famous for his "action paintings", in which he would tack a large canvas to the floor and drip, splatter, and smear paint across it's entire surface. It was the act of painting that was important, not what (if anything) the painting showed.

His work was performance art, using paint as a medium. He even went to the extent of titling his paintings by number, rather than assigning names, to avoid preconceptions by the viewer.

There are people that can look at a Jackson Pollock painting and see something, who are able to coalesce the random spattering of paint into a theme or a concept or even a scene. Personally I believe this is more a function of their own consciousness, not the intent of the artist. For Pollock, the activity of painting was more important than what was being painted.

Joseph Scapellato's collection of short stories, Big Lonesome, swings between episodes of the real ("Immigrants", "Company"), to random gatherings of words, dripped onto pages apparently left lying on the floor ("Horseman Cowboy"). In the first case, the object is clear to anyone that reads it. In the second case, the reader's ability to discern a message may rely more on wishful thinking and a desire to see something where nothing exists. The mere act of putting words (or paint) on paper does not automatically make it art, or provide it with meaning.

At its best, Big Lonesome provides us with a montage of dispirited characters, coping with the small, individual loneliness that is human existence, and he manages to do it in a distinctive and incisive manner. The "surreal" bits in between intrude into this fabric, but without the redeeming quality of providing a counterpoint. They seem to exist simply to create a perception of artistic merit, but instead appear more like 'Magic Eye' paintings that have been hung among the Masters in an art gallery. If you squint your eyes and tilt your head just right, you may see something, but in the end it diverts and distracts rather than enlightens.

Don't Judge a Book by its Length

Book Review: Metis Beach by Claudine Bourbonnais

I find that there's a certain "weighing-in" that goes on when I am confronted by a lengthy new book. Part of it is, no doubt, a holdover from the English classes I took in high school.

Just when you thought you might actually see the bottom of the pile of homework, a masochistic teacher would assign "War and Peace" to read and report on in two weeks (my apologies to Tolstoy).

Even without that hanging over my head, there is still a hesitation to embark on a drawn out literary expedition. Reading is a hobby, hopefully an enjoyable one, but it does require an expenditure of time and attention. Obviously, a longer book takes longer to read, but there is the added effort of keeping track of more characters over an extended plot line. In short, it becomes work, and leaves the reader hoping that the author will help along the way, and the payoff will be worth the labor.

In the case of Claudine Bourbonnais' debut novel, Metis Beach, the rewards did not quite compensate for the effort. What the back matter copy describes as a "historical epic" and a "chronicle of the great American Sixties" was a lengthy, meandering story of a young man's journey across two countries over the course of three decades. There were brief nods, Forest Gump style, to landmark events like the March on Washington, but the characters serve more as observers than participants in this larger picture.

The result is an unhappy melding of a coming of age story (worthwhile on its own merits) with almost random historical events. Whether this was an effort to set a place in time for the story, or to try to link the character's haphazard progress with the growing pains of American society, I'm really not sure. I suspect that it was both, but in the end Metis Beach accomplishes neither. Having grown up in the Sixties, to me the references seemed impersonal and detached, as if they were culled from newspaper headlines rather than experience. They end up detracting from the personal aspect of the story, rather than adding to it.

Sometimes less is more, and I think Ms. Bourbonnais may have bitten off more than she could chew. The story of Roman Carr/Romain Carrier actually would stand better on its own, shorn of the historical references. That would still leave plenty of meat on the bone, so to speak; buried in Metis Beach is an excellent character study, as well as a view into the Canadian French/English dichotomy. Sometimes the measure of a book is what the author leaves out.

In the Shadow of Hemingway

Book Review: Drought by Ronald Fraser

When the talk turns to novels about Spain and the Spanish Civil War, men of a certain age (including me) will immediately turn to Ernest Hemingway

Hemingway turned his minimalist realist eye on the Spanish Civil War novel For Whom the Bell Tolls, and opened the door to a world unknown to most Americans. In Drought, Ronald Fraser picks up where Hemingway left off, historically and stylistically, and gives us a view of Spain where the echoes of the Civil War can still be heard. Old animosities lie hidden, but are neither forgotten nor forgiven, and the trust between neighbors is still a tentative thing.

Writing in a spare style reminiscent of Hemingway, Fraser has penned what can almost be regarded as a sequel to For Whom the Bell Tolls. Parallels exist between the characters of both novels, including the foreign protagonist. Just as the bridge played a central role in Hemingway's tale, Fraser has a dam to do the heavy lifting. Hemingway's "iceberg" storytelling style is evident in both stories; the reader must divine motives and personalities from the actions and dialog of the characters.

And so the question becomes, is Drought the heir apparent of For Whom the Bell Tolls, or is it simply fan fiction? I just finished my second reading of Drought, with my copy of Hemingway at hand, and I will admit the comparison is favorable. Fraser may not be a match for one of the masters of American literature, but he has certainly given us more than a shadow of his intent, and a clear but fleeting echo of the master's voice.

Complex, Slightly Earthy, with a Subtle Finish

Book Review: The Wharf of Chartrons by Jean-Paul Malaval

One of the downsides of being an Amazon Vine program reviewer is that there is a time limit for submission of reviews. As a consequence there can be an unconscious urge to quickly read the book, quickly deciding whether or not you like it, and quickly writing a review.

It's easy to get caught up in the numbers game of having the most reviews and getting a high ranking, which means you need to read as many books as quickly as possible. And most modern fiction makes that possible. Short sentences, uncomplicated characters, and clear and concise plots make for fast reads.

The Wharf of Chartrons can be a challenging read if you are used to the formulaic writing of the James Patterson school of fiction. Not that there is anything wrong with James Patterson - I used to read him back when he wrote his own stories. But my tastes have matured, I want more than a clean, crisp story with a big finish. I want subtlety, complexity, finesse; like a good wine it should be intellectually satisfying.

As noted, Chartrons was originally published in French. I did not have any difficulties with the translation, but it has kept its French aroma and flavor. The pacing is slower, more like a European meal than a stop at MacDonald's, full of subtexts and nuance. It is a period piece, and I found the language and plot were appropriate for the time and place. The Industrial Revolution was arriving in a cloud of smoke and noise, the old ways were dying, and not everyone was happy about it.

I found Chartrons well worth the time it took to read and savor it.

Dogs Will be Dogs

Book Review: Dancing Dogs by Jon Katz

"It is well to bear in mind that the truth about dogs is as elusive as the truth about man. You cannot put your finger on any quality and safely say, 'This is doglike,' nor on any other quality and say, 'This is not.' Dogs are individualists." - James Thurber

What made James Thurber the quintessential writer of dog stories is that his dog tales are as individual as the tail on a dog. Although all are written in the inimitable Thurber style, the resemblance ends there. From Muggs to Rex, Medve to Jeannie, the stories of Thurber's Dogs are as unique as the dogs themselves. Thurber's dogs are allowed to have their own character, and characters they are. They are not larger than life, but they are very much alive, and Thurber's love and respect for both the dogs and their stories shows clearly in the telling.

Which brings me (belatedly) to Dancing Dogs, my introduction to the work of author Jon Katz. Based only on this single work, I am not about to put him in the same rank as James Thurber, but at its best Dancing Dogs does evoke the spirit of Thurber; if for no other reason that Katz lets his dogs be dogs.

In case you missed the fact that the book is clearly classified as "Literature and Fiction," and a collection of short stories, let me make it clear: this is a collection of fictional short stories. Apparently this was not clear to several reviewers who detest short stories and dislike fiction. I would assume these are the same people who acquire a dog hoping that it will become something else: the child they never had, an obedient slave, or a target for anger and frustration. It is a tribute to the dogs that they will unquestioningly attempt to become that other thing, in the process becoming as neurotic as their owner.

Over the several thousand years that man and dog have shared existence, the dog has become more than just another domestic animal. The dog's close association with mankind has not always been to their benefit, but it has certainly given them insight into what makes people tick. In Dancing Dogs, Katz delves into this wonderful and mysterious relationship in which dogs and humans become more than just man and beast. Not all dogs are perfect, neither are all humans, but together they are capable of transcending those limitations to reflect the better side of each.

What makes a story true is not whether it is fiction or non-fiction, but rather the veracity of what it shows us about ourselves. With 7 billion people and a billion dogs on this planet, can anyone say that any of Katz's stories has not 'really' happened? More importantly, does it matter? The characters in Dancing Dogs are enlightened and enriched by the relationship forged between man and dog over the millennia; based on my own life I know this to be true, and Jon Katz brings this truth home in a series of (short) stories that capture the beauty, joy, and unvarnished reality that a dog can bring to our lives.

Just Below the Surface

Book Review: Land of Love and Drowning by Tiphanie Yanique

" ... men who spend their lives on the water know that magic is real."

On the surface, Tiphanie Yanique's Land of Love and Drowning is a multigenerational tale of a family in the Virgin Islands in the early 20th century. As such, it is an interesting enough novel, detailing the ways in which the characters interact -- their lives and loves and travails. The reader gets a taste of the island culture: the flavor of the language, the beauty of the landscape, the aroma of indigenous cooking.

But when the reader dives deeper, into the warm depths of Love and Drowning, he finds an entire world hidden below the relative calm above. Strong currents of racism, roiling storms of war, schools of segregation, and whirlpools of adultery lie in wait.

The transfer of the Virgin Islands from Danish rule to American guardianship turns out to be simply the exchange from one type of colonialism to another. The Americanization of the Virgin Islands brings the foreign concept of private property ownership, and the fencing off of the beaches. There was a gain in material comforts, but it was in exchange for a loss of liberty.

With the influx of American cars and plumbing and electricity came American racism and segregation. The fences on the beaches extend into daily life, with restrictions based on color lines. Miscegenation was frowned on, the historical mixing of African and European and Asian and Carib. Islanders who served in the armed forces returned from the mainland disillusioned; they had expected to be accepted by their new American compatriots, only to find doors closed to them.

Yanique skillfully interweaves the personal stories with the larger events to create a whole cloth - we see history from the personal perspective of the characters, and each is given equal weight. Placed against the magical, mystical background of the islands, Land of Love and Drowning gives us the Virgin Islands as microcosm; where Jim Crow and Hollywood intersect with the ebb and flow of the Caribbean and the bleached bones of a shipwreck, lying just below the surface.

Authentic Western

Book Review: Painted Horses by Malcolm Brooks

"It begins and ends with horses, now and in history ... the horse alone has the power to transport us".

I was born and grew up in the Western United States. I have traveled from one side of this country to the other; I have seen some great places, but I cannot imagine living anyplace else. There is a flavor to the West that satisfies something inside me. I know that every part of the United States has its own personality, and that for different people, different places feel like 'home'.

When I read a story that is set in the West, I can quickly tell if the author has actually lived here. There is a different way of talking, a different way of looking at life that comes from long, empty spaces and sharp stark landscapes. I think you have to live it to describe it. There are a handful of writers who 'get it'; in Painted Horses Malcolm Brooks shows that he is one.

Painted Horses transports us to another decade, another way of thinking, yet not one that is really all that foreign to us. The battle between progress and historic preservation is still ongoing; we lose a little bit of our history every day. Brooks sets the scene, and begins to fill it with characters on both sides. With a playing field as big as the West, it can sometimes seem that the characters aren't even in the same game, but love of the land and its history ties it together.

Painted Horses has the marks of a mature and seasoned author, and the facets of the story are as varied as the colors of a Colorado sunset; when the glow finally fades and the stars come out, you can't wait to do it all over again.

Where Worlds Collide

Book Review: The Man with the Compound Eyes by Wu Ming-Yi [translated by Darryl Sterk]

"No other creature can share experience like this. Only human beings can, through writing, experience something separately together." - The Man with the Compound Eyes

Most of us lead what we consider simple lives. We look at the mundane activities of daily life - eating, sleeping, working - without consideration of how they affect, or are affected, by the world around us. Indeed, our quest for individuality seems to demand that we see ourselves as separate, living at the center our own little world.

The Man with the Compound Eyes is a novel of interconnectedness; where people, places, things, and even time periods come together, and "the finest movement of any organism represents a change in an ecosystem." Author Wu Ming-Yi takes us to a place where our mythic past of oral legends and wrathful gods meets our technological present of live news coverage and cell phones. There, on a beach in Taiwan, they must confront not only each other but the uncertain future as well, when the rising ocean dumps back all the trash people had dumped into it.

As if we have compound eyes, Wu Ming-YI allows us to see a single series of events from multiple perspectives; each intimately personal, yet remaining interrelated. Woven together with the threads of life, death, love, and loss, the characters in The Man with the Compound Eyes face their shared trials and individual travails. "Life doesn't allow you any preconceptions. Most of the time you have to accept what life throws at you, kind of like walking into a restaurant where the owner dictates what you're having for dinner."

Lyrical, mystical, yet ultimately real, The Man with the Compound Eyes is a subtly layered novel that shows us an intricate and multi-faceted world - the world we just happen to live in. An enjoyable read; the translation by Darryl Sterk is seamless. A welcome addition to my library, and highly recommended.

Searching for One Voice Among the Many

Book Review: The House of Journalists by Tim Finch

The issue of immigration, both legal and illegal, can be complex: convoluted, complicated, and confusing. Tim Finch's The House of Journalists, is equal parts of all of these, but does little to shed any light on the subject.

Focusing on the stories of refugees seeking political asylum, Finch gives us an accurate portrayal of the past terrors, present lives, and uncertain futures these individuals must confront. Mixed in with the often horrific tales of death and torture in their home countries, Finch allows us glimpses of the idyll of their safe home in the House of Journalists, a halfway house for members of the third world fifth estate. Underlying the seeming calm of the House, however, is the implicit threat of deportation. In their new country, the journalists are at the mercy of a faceless government where humanitarian concerns often take a backseat to political expediency.

So far, so good. Where House of Journalists fails is in the telling. The straightforward synopsis I have given above is anything but straightforward in the book. Multiple voices weave through the chapters, shifting from first person to second person to third person, often without a clear indication of who is speaking. At times Finch uses this effectively, but for the most part it simply adds an impenetrable layer of complexity, and the story gets lost in infinite folds of plot.

I believe a more conventional rendering of House of Journalists would have been much more effective. While I'm sure Tim Finch had a lot of fun writing this, it is not as much fun to read. There is a great story lurking in here, but instead of freeing it, Finch has buried it in an effort to be clever. A good first effort - I hope he finds his true voice among the many he presents us here.

Ulysses in Trieste

Book Review: Trieste by Dasa Drndic [translated by Ellen Elias-Bursac]

James Joyce, author of Ulysses, spent about ten years in Trieste in the years leading up to World War I. In Trieste, author Dasa Drndic uses Joyce's stream of consciousness style to convey the chaotic mix of cultures, religion, and politics in Italy's border regions in the years between the wars.

The unrelenting flow of words is not always effective when detailing the history of the characters' families, resulting in a confusing mix of names and dates that can leave the reader bewildered. But when the story moves into the horrific years of the Nazi 'ethnic cleansing', the reader gets caught up in the flow. Life and death, loyalty and betrayal dance in a schizophrenic 'tarantula', and Drndic is unrelenting, the words flaming on the page, and in the reader's mind.

Great fiction should blur the line between reality and imagination. A great deal of non-fiction has already been written about the Holocaust and its associated horrors, in fictionalizing some aspects of her story Drndic has not lost anything; she puts a human face to the horror, and does honor to those who actually lived (and died) as a result of it. There is plenty of history here; what has been fictionalized supports the facts, it does not undermine them.

Trieste is not a book for the faint-hearted, either in style or subject. Although at times I found the interior monologue annoying (especially in the early going), it is devastatingly effective in the last half of the book. Enter if you are brave enough, and if you stay the course you will be changed.

"... in this 'library' of horrors, in this alchemist's kitchen of maniacs, little lives of little people have been foundering already for sixty years; they are waving their deportation I.D.s, their brittle, faded and cracked family photographs, their hastily penned letters, diaries, their birth certificates and marriage licenses, their death certificates, sketches, poems, their coupons for food and clothing, anything that can supplant their cry, they are waving: Here we are, find us."

Twisting Reality like Taffy

Book Review: Bushman Lives! by Daniel Pinkwater

Bushman Lives was my first exposure to the work of author Daniel Pinkwater, and overall it was an enjoyable experience. I was reminded of the work of Louis Sachar (Holes, the Wayside School series), not an unflattering comparison, with that same 'dropped down the rabbit hole' feeling to it.

What happens is that the author introduces us to a fairly normal character in a fairly normal situation - and then begins to pull and stretch it in different un-normal ways. Reality takes on the consistency of Silly Putty; malleable, elastic, and taking the imprint of things which it is pressed against. The result can be both amusing and enlightening, although requiring suspension of disbelief to increasing depths. When is a house not a house? When it's covered in whitewash of course!

However much I enjoy this sort of thing, Bushman Lives didn't quite fulfill my expectations. It feels incomplete-there were infinite possibilities, but I felt like I had been left hanging. I was not expecting a 'happily ever after' conclusion, but neither was I looking for the book to just sort of trail off ...

An Average Story of an Average Life

Book Review: Fool by Frederick Dillen

Mind you, there is nothing wrong with average - it is of course that part of the bell curve under which most of us live. I am not one that believes that extraordinary writing must only refer to extraordinary characters; if that was true there would be few books worth reading indeed.

Writers like John Steinbeck and Sinclair Lewis made their mark writing amazing fiction about the less than amazing lives of nobodies not unlike you or me.

Sadly, Frederick G. Dillen's Fool fails to bring any resonance to the story of anti-hero Barnaby Griswold. The story doesn't reverbrate or reflect or amplify - which even a story about average people (for instance Lewis' Main Street or Steinbeck's The Wayward Bus) is capable of doing. It drifts along much as its protagonist does: directionless, incomplete, and unfulfilled.

Barnaby is not unlikable, although at times he doesn't much like himself; some of his fellow characters actually care about Barnaby. His actions, his goals, and his beliefs are not any different than many people you would meet in real life, or in really good fiction. The characters are believable, the plot sustainable - yet Fool doesn't quite bring it off.

Barnaby may consider himself a fluffmeister, of which there are plenty in this world, but he is not devoid of life. I did not expect Barnaby to come to any heroic revelations or noble enlightenment. However, his story comes across as no more substantial than a wallpaper tiger, leaving Barnaby no more than a cutout himself, and Fool only a moderately entertaining bit of fluff.

The Surreal Experience Known as "Being Alive"

Book Review: Juliet in August by Dianne Warren

For this reader, what sets a few novels above the majority lies in a rather subjective quality: does the author make me feel the characters, rather than just see them? In a great movie this is that moment when you realize that you weren't just watching the movie, you were in it.

That moment occurred as I was reading Diane Warren's Juliet in August at about the third page. I may be wrong; it might have been closer to the fifth page. That feeling lasted until the end of the book, over the several days I was reading it.

Now I can read as fast as anyone, and I have had those "stayed-up-all-night-reading" events as well. While visiting Juliet (which is a place, not a person), I found myself reading more slowly than usual, taking my time and getting the feel of the country.

There is a flow to living in a small town, and it's not everyone's cup of tea. It moves slower than in the city, but it's there all the same. Faster is not always better -- you miss a lot hurtling down the freeway. The best way to see the world around you is ... on a horse. Preferably a horse that you just found and use to re-enact a legendary 100-mile horse race.

OK, so that's not part of the normal flow of a small town, but it is around this somewhat improbable thread that Warren wraps the stories that make up Juliet. Before long a man on a horse seems no more out-of-place than any of the 'ordinary' events taking place: the day-to-day ebb and flow of life, love, and relationships. Simple small town life? Sure!

Pull up a chair, and dive in to Juliet. I'll make you a cup of tea.

The Pauses Between the Notes

Book Review: The House at Tyneford by Natasha Solomon

"Music isn't just notes; it's also filled with rests or measured silences. We wait during the pauses, listening to the possibility of music."

Shortly before starting on Natasha Solomons' The House at Tyneford, I had come across the Wikipedia article on the Dorset 'ghost village' of Tyneham. After reading the summary of the book, I realized that the connection was tenuous, but I took a chance and ordered The House at Tyneford anyway, promised at least a classic English setting.

The early parts of the story reminded me of The Mirador, Elisabeth Gille's autobiographical novel set in roughly the same time period. The years between the wars only sharpened the issues that had brought about the First World War - the "War to End All Wars" was only a prelude. Those holding onto the remnants of the imperial lifestyle, like the Landaus, were torn apart, literally and figuratively.

Once Elise Landau arrives in England, the story centers on the changes that any immigrant would face - learning a new language, a new culture, and new values. In addition, Elise has been forced to make a huge change in her own class status as well. Ms. Solomons does an excellent job of portraying both her characters frustration and naivete. In doing so she manages to find the middle ground - relaying enough details to allow us to feel the character, yet in turn allowing us to fill in the blanks with our own feelings, to see the possibilities of the character'

While written from the viewpoint of a female character, the story is accessible to male readers as well. Some emotions are universal, even if our reactions to them are personal. Love, loss, fear, courage, and pride are not divided by gender, and the author helps us find the ground common to us all.

Too Much of a Good Thing

Book Review: The House at Sea's End by Elly Griffiths

In the third book of her "Ruth Galloway" mystery series, The House at Sea's End, author Elly Griffith presents us with a complex set of characters: half a dozen buried corpses, three new murder victims, and a host of potential suspects -- all being trailed by a team of law enforcers assisted by a score of secondary characters. It's enough to make your head spin:

"Nelson gets Judy to fax through the list of titles (Ruth is almost the last person in the world still to have a fax machine). Ruth reads through the names while Nelson plays peek-a-boo with Kate. Ruth wishes Clough could see him."

... three sentences reference five characters, two of whom aren't even in the room.

I enjoy character-driven fiction, and I appreciate that even fictional characters have friends, but sometimes less is more. As DCI Harry Nelson says, "Don't make things too complicated." I realize that I read an Advance Readers Copy (prone to typos), but at least one minor character changes names in the middle of the story, and it wasn't a plot device. Too many details can play heck with continuity. Locations and timelines in many cases were confusing or even contradictory.

I am a fan of the classic English mystery; Griffith has the setting, the characters, and the crime down pat, there is just too much and the story's readability suffers. The House at Sea's End sets the stage, but gets lost in the scenery changes.

A Rose is a Rose is a Rose

Book Review: The Language of Flowers by Vanessa Diffenbaugh

"Do you really think you're the only human being alive who is unforgivably flawed? Who's been hurt almost to the point of breaking?"
After 18 years in the foster care system, Victoria believes that yes, she is the only one. And as a consequence, friendship, love, and redemption seem the stuff of fairy tales-of other people's lives.

In her debut novel, The Language of Flowers, author Vanessa Diffenbaugh takes us into a world that very few of us really know: the life of children (and the adults they touch) in foster care. In doing so she manages to steer a careful course between the opposing shoals of sermonizing and romanticizing, and guides us straight into the life of Victoria, a young woman caught up in the current.

As many of us do, Victoria tries to find the balance between swimming against the tide and simply trying to stay afloat. Neither course is entirely successful, nor is it an absolute failure. Hampered by her inability to share her feelings verbally, Victoria falls back on her second language; the symbology of flowers. Through her almost instinctive ability to see the message in her floral medium, she finds a way to reach out to a handful of fellow travelers, a lifeline out of her self-inflicted solitude. But each time she throws the rope away, knowing in her heart she does not deserve to be saved, afraid to be tied to anyone or anything.

There comes a point in your life that you find that what prevents you from moving forward is not what is in front of you - it is what is behind you. The overwhelming weight of your past can anchor you in place, and rob you of your future. Often, a series of events will bring you right back to that point you started from, and you must confront the flood of your fears all over again.

The Language of Flowers is the story of anyone that has made that journey back into the light, back into the stream of life. Sometimes you may sympathize with Victoria, at others you just want to shake some sense into her, but you can never be ambivalent about her. By title and subject Flowers may give off the scent of being "chick-lit", but there is nothing perfumed about life here - there are plenty of falls and thorns among the roses.

I don't judge books by their covers, but rather by how eager I am to pick them back up and reluctant to put them down. By all my marks, Vanessa Diffenbaugh speaks a language that I understand.

[Follow up note: Although at the time I wrote this review this book had not been officially released, I see that subsequently it did become a bestseller. Happy to hear that!].

A World Long Ago and Far Away

Book Review: The End of Sparta by Victor Davis Hanson

I recently observed to a friend that the further we range in time from the present the more fantastic it becomes. Both the distant past and the distant future become speculative and mythologized through the lens of time; voyages into unknown and unseen lands.

The End of Sparta is Victor Davis Hanson's effort to throw back the veil that hides our past, and show us the people that lived behind it. Through his effort we are able to see that not much has changed in human character. In the battle for Sparta we find the same motivations and strivings that we do today: power, money, fame, love, faith, and justice.

Yet at the same time, Hanson shows us that the world was very different as well. It is a land of unfamiliar names, ancient weapons, and mythical creatures. At times I felt as if I was in a fantasy world, journeying not to Sparta but to Mordor, preparing to battle the Dark Lord. I won't belabor a comparison that many would contest; only noting many of the same themes and intricacies of the greater work The Lord of the Rings

Personally, I enjoyed the End of Sparta as a story in the classic vein. Such are the characters that myths are made of; the simple farmer who slays a king, the freed slave who liberates a people, the opposing general whom none can kill. To be honest, it is of a different caliber than most "historical fiction", which are histories written by novelists. This is a novel written by an historian, at once scholarly and inspiring.