Memoirs of a Geisha, by Arthur Golden (1997)
Why are you wasting time reading a book review when you could be on your way to the library to put your name on the hold list? It's been a long time since I've read a book this good. (See also my review of Geisha, by Liza Crihfield Dalby, a resource heavily used by Golden.)
Bridget Jones's Diary, by Helen Fielding (1996)
Grammar lesson, everyone. Please note that Helen Fielding, unlike many people, knows that the singular possessive of a name like Jones is Jones's, not Jones'. (For advanced students: even the plural possessive isn't Jones', it's Joneses'.) It's so nice to see it done right, and it got this book off on the right foot. The only thing they could put on a book jacket to spoil a moment like that is a "soon to be a major motion picture" blurb. Oh, well, at least you have the chance to read the book before they print a new edition with the actors on the cover. And they redeemed themselves by putting this review by Salman Rushdie on the back: "A brilliant comic creation. Even men will laugh." I'm not the least surprised he used the word "brilliant"---I've been using Bridget's "marvelous" and "brilliant" and "v.g." ever since the first chapter. I just know that if I met Bridget in person I'd be picking up her accent within minutes. Er, assuming Bridget were a real person. It's easy to forget she's not after you've read her personal diary about dieting and dating and drinking and smoking. I thought the book was ruddy marvy and enjoyed it all the way through.
Additional note, 03-16-2002: I liked the book even better the second time, after seeing the movie with yummy Hugh Grant and yummy Colin Firth and adorable Renée Zellweger. In case you're wondering, the movie is good, though of course it can't be as good as the book. It captures the feeling of the book, but can't do all of it in such a short amount of time.
Gerald's Party, by Robert Coover (1985)
When a narrator, in the first seven pages of text, manages to use the Forbidden C-Word three times, plus manages to make me sick and heartsick by describing his wife's stillbirth delivery and how he went to see his mistress right afterwards (while his wife's mother was at home with an expectant expression, awaiting news of her newborn grandson), I think it's safe to assume the book is not for me. Who it is for, I don't even want to imagine, but whoever it is, I hate him.
The Purveyor of Enchantment, by Marika Cobbold (1996)
This book is advertised as "a modern day fairy tale," and I guess you could see it that way. The prince doesn't seem to be much of a catch, but maybe the original Prince Charming wasn't either. The princess is difficult to get a mental picture of. On one hand she's very similar to a worrywart I know well, but on the other hand her behavior seems so inconsistent---not in a normal-human-beings-are-inconsistent-creatures kind of way, but in a confusing way that made me feel I was going to miss the author's point while I was busy struggling to understand the characters. I think the ending was supposed to be a happy one, but I didn't think it was.
The Daddy Clock, by Judy Markey (1998)
I guess I don't have any strong, sarcastic objections to this book, but I didn't like it. It gave me a heavy, tired feeling. The plot feels forced and yet predictable. It's as if the author thought to herself, "Hey, I know! Let's do a shocking topic: men who want babies and women who don't!" Then she gave it an ending so Hollywood Romance you could visualize exactly which camera angle the director would choose before going to the credits. The very fact that she thought her subject matter so outré set me against the book from the beginning: it was the book equivalent of the motorcyclist taking off her helmet...to reveal long shining GIRL hair!!