Confessions of an Ugly Stepsister, by Gregory Maguire (1999)
The narrator introduces herself by telling us that the Cinderella story is based on what happened in the narrator's own family. The rest of the book tells the "real" story of Cinderella, her two ugly stepsisters, her cruel stepmother, and the handsome prince--and also what happened to everyone after the fairy tale story ends. What interested me most was the way I kept forgetting that I was reading "the Cinderella story." When the stepsisters are ugly but also kind, and the stepmother is cruel but also a survivor, and Cinderella's domestic duties and isolation are self-imposed, the story fleshes out into a tale much more layered and intriguing than the well-known fairy-godmother-pumpkin-coach-and-glass-slipper version. It's startling to feel sympathy for characters you've had in the Classic Villain slot since your early childhood; it's like the moment you realize the girl who stole your high school boyfriend might have been a teenager with poor judgment rather than Evil Incarnate.
City of Light, by Lauren Belfer (1999)
If I told you that the main plot involved a hydroelectric power plant at Niagara Falls you might not read the book, so instead I'll tell you that the main character is the headmistress of a girls' school and she has A Secret Past. She has three suitors, only two of whom are men. She is godmother to a little girl whose life is being used as a bargaining chip in a power struggle. She is the recipient of many confessions she'd rather not hear, including that of someone who has committed two murders.
I enjoyed reading about most of what happened to and around Louisa Barrett, but I was bored by the politics and the power plant. I was also a little shocked that the author brought in a former U.S. president as a nefarious character, but perhaps if I did research on Grover Cleveland I'd find he was fairly represented.
The book would have had more impact if I could have kept all the characters straight: it's not as startling to find out that Ashton is behind a devious plot if you can't tell Ashton from Ashford and Ashfield.
The Museum at Purgatory, by Nick Bantock (1999)
When considering reading this book, ask yourself, "How do I feel about a narrator who is technically dead?" You don't read Nick Bantock expecting to find a normal novel. In this one, a dead man named Non is serving out his time in Purgatory by working as a curator in the museum there. Apparently there are some flaws to the "You can't take it with you" theory, because some people can and do, and someone has to sort and document that stuff. The museum has infinite space, and the curator takes us on a tour of just ten rooms, discussing the collections there and the people who owned them: why they collected what they did, how they spent their time in Purgatory, and where they went from there. In true Nick Bantock form, the pages are packed with illustrations and photographs and collages, each one fascinating particularly because it's hard to know when something is a real item and when it's made up for the purpose of the fictional novel. A neat bonus: in an envelope at the end of the book is a sheet of souvenir stamps from The Museum at Purgatory.
The Cabal and Other Stories, by Ellen Gilchrist (2000)
There are some authors who should not try to use the f-word, and Ellen Gilchrist is one of them. The effect is of a parent trying to use slang with a teenager. Here's the rule: if you use the f-word in everyday speech, you may use it in your writing; if you would never use it in everyday speech, you may not force it into service to make yourself sound modern and cool.
The book is a lukewarm 3 on a scale of 10. The writing isn't so bad, I guess, but the stories are anticlimactic. One is about a group of people who all see the same psychiatrist; then the psychiatrist starts doing drugs and finally goes crazy. Interesting idea, but no follow-through. Another story is about a scriptwriter who won't sleep with a man who has the power to give her money and fame; the story lingers endlessly on the man's diminutive size and sexual failings. I found myself either bored or disappointed all the way through.
The Girls' Guide to Hunting and Fishing, by Melissa Bank (1999)
Right away you need to know that this is not a guide to hunting and fishing; this is a fiction book. I loved the book but was confused by it: is it a series of related short stories or is it a novel? Most of the stories seem to be about Jane Rosenal, but there's one story that mentions her only in passing, and another story that could be about her but no names are given and nothing in it is referred to later. My favorite story (or possibly chapter) is the last one, the title story. It's about what happens when Jane tries to follow that astonishing book from a few years ago called The Rules, in which women were told how to manipulate men into marrying them. Almost all the stories about Jane are funny, but this one had me laughing out loud and resisting the impulse to make other people listen to snippets. This is an author, by the way, who can get away with using the f-word.
Bridget Jones: The Edge of Reason, by Helen Fielding (1999)
I almost didn't read this book. I'd read a review that said that you might as well re-read the first book (Bridget Jones's Diary, see review) since this one was just the same thing over again. Lesson learned: don't always take a reviewer's word for it. Sometimes a reviewer might be feeling crabby that day. Perhaps it's just that it's been so long since I read the first book, but I got a huge kick out of the sequel. I love Bridget Jones, I love her diary, I love all the British slang, I love everything about these books and will probably read them again and again. They're hilarious and I can't believe Bridget Jones isn't a real live person.