Roxanna Slade, by Reynolds Price (1998)
Would you still be interested in this book if it were titled Reminisces of a 90-year-old Woman? There you go, then. It's a well-written book in which an elderly woman recounts the milestones of her life. That sort of book is a particular favorite of mine, as long as it doesn't falsely elevate tension by overusing foreshadowing and then not following through--a rule this book comes close to violating. The homespun wisdom is cliched but probably true nevertheless, and just as you might have to tolerate a little "I don't know what this world is coming to; why, in my time...." from a beloved elderly relative, you'll have to endure some from Roxanna Slade.
Welcome to Temptation, by Jennifer Crusie (2000)
I'm going to tell you something I'm loath to admit: I have read not just one, but perhaps a whole stack of those stupid paperback romance novels with the swooning embrace on the cover. I can only explain it by saying I was young and curious and the woman whose children I babysat had whole paper grocery bags full of them in her closet, so when the children were playing I was reading about all the delving and plunging and spiraling and so on. Even then, as a young teenager, I was unimpressed with plot and character development in such books. On the other hand, there's something about that formula that attracts readers, so why can't someone write a book that includes the good elements of the paperback trash, but makes it smarter and better, with characters who don't seem interchangeable, dialogue that is amusing and intelligent, and sex scenes that aren't quite so embarrassing and silly? This is what Jennifer Crusie does. You'll notice some of those familiar paperback romance plot elements: the man and woman who resist each other at first but are then drawn together; the sex that is better than anyone had ever dreamed it could be; the quick courtship that ends in a marriage proposal and the promise of eternal bliss. This is where Jennifer Crusie branches off. The characters are real and interesting and multi-dimensional: they have things happening in their lives other than this romance, and they have good qualities other than attractiveness. The dialogue does not include flashing eyes or the use of full names ("I hate you, Lance DeBouvier!"); it can be awkward and silly and small, just as in real life, but it can also be quick and smart and funny. The sex scenes--well, you can decide for yourself, but I found them refreshingly free of the more ridiculous elements of trashy romance novels, which often seem to be discussing space travel and/or drug use.
Temptation, as you might guess, is the name of the town in which the amazing romance occurs. Sophie Dempsey and her sister Amy go there to make an audition tape for an aging porn star, and before they know it they're involved in making a semi-pornographic movie and also a documentary on the making of it. By doing so they have a run-in with the town council, which has just passed an ordinance regarding pornography. Phineas Tucker, who is younger and hotter than his name suggests, is the mayor of the town, up for re-election in two months. The populace is in an uproar over this movie, and he would put a stop to it if only he could take his eyes off Sophie. Things get so out of hand that dead bodies become involved, and someone begins making attempts on Sophie's life. It's all very exciting. Big thanks to Jennifer Crusie for her excellent trash-picking: finding the good in the rubbish and making it into something far superior. If I were to do a little picking of my own, I might say that I got tired of the following things: Dusty Springfield, Dove Bars, devil's candy, and anything that was a quote from a movie.
Five Children and It; The Phoenix and the Carpet; The Story of the Amulet, by E. Nesbit
The edition I read dozens of times as a child includes all three books and is copyright 1979, and I notice there are recent editions copyright 1999 or later. But Five Children and It was originally copyrighted 1902, so that'll give you an idea of how enduring these stories are. I recommend them for all fans of Harry Potter or other books with magical themes. The reading level is similar to such series as Harry Potter (J.K. Rowling), the Narnia books (C. S. Lewis), and the like: they're for older children but also enjoyable for adults.
In Five Children and It, a group of children (five of them, as you might expect, though one is a baby and doesn't appear as often) discover a Psammead, or Sand Fairy, and it grants them one wish per day. The children wish for wings and riches and other things you might expect, and the results sometimes include lessons to be learned.
In The Phoenix and the Carpet, the same fortunate children find that their new nursery carpet is a magical flying carpet containing the egg of a phoenix--which soon hatches.
In The Story of the Amulet, the children once again score an amazing treasure: this time it's half of an ancient amulet. If they can find the other half and the pin that joins the two halves together, they will be given their hearts' desire. To serve this end, the amulet can send them anywhere in time--as long as it's a place and time where the complete amulet once was. The children travel to Atlantis and ancient Egypt and Babylon, among other places, competing with a slightly scary Egyptian priest who is also seeking the amulet.
Sometimes when as an adult you re-read a book you loved as a child, you find it rather silly. I was almost afraid to read these stories, but I shouldn't have been: I loved them just as much as I used to, and perhaps more now that I understand more of the jokes written for grown-ups.
War Letters, by Andrew Carroll (2001)
There are many editors who get too much credit: they write rambling dull introductions nobody reads and they get their names on the book covers, and it hardly seems fair when it's a collection of writings by other people. This editor earns his keep: without him, the book would be mildly interesting, but with him it's mesmerizing. He sets the scene for each letter, putting it in layers of context: the writer's role in the war and also the war's status at that time; the addressee's relationship with the writer and what sorts of letters they'd exchanged in the past; the writer's upbringing or life before the war. Sometimes, too, there's a heartbreaking follow-up note after the letter: that the writer was killed in battle the next week, for example. Nearly 200 letters cover the Civil War, World Wars I and II, the Korean War, the Cold War, the Vietnam War, the Persian Gulf War, Somalia, and Bosnia. Sketches, photos, and photos of the letters themselves are scattered throughout. I don't think I've ever read a book that made the wars seem so real. Historical and human elements are woven beautifully; letters are chosen skillfully to illustrate and illuminate. Highlights include letters by Douglas Fairbanks Jr., Julia Child, Clara Barton, George Bush, Adolf Hitler's nephew Patrick Hitler, John F. Kennedy, John Steinbeck, and others easily recognized. I highly recommend this informative and fascinating collection, to war buffs and non-war buffs alike.
Amanda's Wedding, by Jenny Colgan (1999)
At first I didn't think I was going to be able to get into this book: it seemed like a cheap Bridget Jones knock-off, the main character a British woman who can't stop slacking and drinking long enough to take a good look at the revolting bloke she's shagging. The inevitable crazy best friend, the inevitable nice guy we all know she ought to like, the inevitable peculiar flatmate who doesn't like to party or wash other people's dishes for them--I was ready to chuck it. Note my trying-too-hard British slang, however, as well as the way I'm pretending to remember when to say "English" and when to say "British," and you'll realize I must have persevered. (I still think it feels like a Bridget Jones knock-off, but more likely it's that stacks and stacks of novels like this have always been published in England, but have only made it over here since the success of Bridgers.) It's an entertaining book with likable characters and a clever plot about sabotaging the wedding of a horribly bitchy woman who is also unforgivably petite and blonde. I liked it and must go look at the library for other books by this author, since more Bridget Jones books are not yet in.
The Winter of Our Discontent, by John Steinbeck (1961)
Who could fail to appreciate the writings of John Steinbeck, a favorite of English teachers everywhere? But he's so very heavy, you can see perfectly well why you might love him in English class and avoid him at home by the fire. Thick with themes, John Steinbeck's books are ripe for analysis, the sort of analysis I don't tend to do. For this you need the kind of reviewer who explores the place of man in this world, the condition of the primitive subconscious, the consequences of stretching one's conscience beyond what it can stand--as opposed to my more standard "sucks / doesn't suck" rating. It doesn't suck, indeed. The characters are so expertly formed, however, that I can't bear their stories; my heartstrings get tied to them, and when they go down, so do I. I hate that.
Ethan Allen Hawley is a grocery clerk, a member of a formerly wealthy family that lost everything through foolish business dealings. Through a series of nudges, Ethan gains new resolve to be rich. He plans it carefully, he makes certain necessary sacrifices. He succeeds. And now he can't live with himself. It turns out that for him, the ends did not justify the means as well as he'd expected them to. We leave him as his fate hangs in the balance.
I mean, can you bear that? By the time we get to the last page, I'm practically his sister I'm so fond of him, and there he is, beyond despair, and we don't even find out what happens to him. It's an excellent book, and terribly, terribly depressing. Perfect for an English paper, but don't bring it to the beach or you'll ruin everyone's fun.
Where Do I Sleep?: A Pacific Northwest Lullaby, by Jennifer Blomgren, illustrated by Andrea Gabriel (2001)
If your child received money for the holidays, may I suggest this charming and distinctive bedtime book? You don't have to be from the Pacific Northwest to appreciate a change from pig/cow/sheep/cat/dog to otter/puffin/eagle/anemone/bat--but if you are from that area, this book should be a shoo-in. Each animal has its own poem, four lines that manage to rhyme without relying on "really," "kind of," "quite," "very," or made-up words--crutches of many children's books (e.g., "T is for turtle, who's really quite slow" and the like). A favorite of mine: "Where do I sleep? In a den underground, / Lined with velvety grass--it's here I'll be found. / In a russet red coat with sooty black socks / And bright golden eyes, I'm a baby Red Fox." The verses are hypnotically, soothingly, musically fun to read, and the gently colorful drawings are a beautiful complement. Usually I advocate checking books out of the library, but I think this is one you'll want to keep.
Pride and Prejudice, by Jane Austen (1813)
Perhaps you are not similarly feeble, but I find that the length of time it takes me to read a book increases with its age. A book published this year might take me 2 days to read; a book of the same length published in the early 1800s takes me a week or more. This book took a solid week, and I'm mentally wiped out; I will have to rest my brain on something fluffy for the next few days. Well worth the effort, Pride and Prejudice is a lovely story, old-fashioned in a pleasing way. Ever the prude, I am always so pleased to find another book in which the reader is not expected to equate physical attraction with mental compatibility. The humor is of the sort referred to as "wit," and is nicely done throughout. Characters are well-sketched in a naughty sort of way; if you read too quickly you might miss the little well-placed jabs at certain sorts of people. A warm thank-you to the reader who persisted in encouraging me to give Jane Austen another try.