Booking Through Thursday: Heroine

This week's BTT topic:
Who is your favorite female lead character? And why? (And yes, of course, you can name more than one . . . I always have trouble narrowing down these things to one name, why should I force you to?)

Looks like I'm a bit late, as usual. And this is a really tough question. I guess my absolute favorite female heroine would have to be Alice from the Lewis Carroll books – she was a very early literary love, and I still re-read those books frequently. I also enjoy Barbara Pym's women; but in her case, it's the type of heroine I'm responding to, rather than any single character. And Miss Marple will always be a favorite, too – I love the way she's always not what she seems.

I'm beginning to appreciate Elizabeth Bennet more now, after seeing the mini-series on PBS - in fact, that show has inspired me to re-read the novel. I like her sense of humor and the way she stands by her family even though they don't always seem to deserve such loyalty. Have to say, when I first read Pride and Prejudice in high school, I thought Lizzie and Darcy both were boring beyond belief. Interesting what a difference a few decades can make! And recently I've discovered a new favorite in Nancy Clark's The Hills At Home – its main character Lily Hill seems a bit like a modern Lizzie who's grown old and never got to marry her Mr. Darcy.

But I suppose my earliest favorite "literary" chick was Lulu Moppet. She's funny, resourceful, courageous, honest, and loyal, has lots of exciting adventures, and her hair is never out of place. Hate to admit that my love of reading was sparked in large part by a comic book character, but it is the truth. And the fact that I have a large Little Lulu collection squirreled away must mean that she still has a place in my heart.

Review: Crewel World

Written by Monica Ferris
Published by Berkley Prime Crime Books, 1999, 243 pp.

If she could get into the rhythm of the needlework, she would find peace. That's why she loved needlepoint – it worked like meditation. It was better than meditation, actually, because after a while you found you had both peace of mind and a work of art. [Chapter 9, p. 116]

In addition to the "formal" reading challenges I have going this year, I've set up a personal challenge for myself to complete the series of Betsy Devonshire mysteries by Monica Ferris.

Now in theory, I believe you should always start out with the first book in a series. But somehow I usually manage to jump right into the middle somewhere. Thus, I started Ferris's "Needlework" series with the fifth title, A Murderous Yarn, and followed that with the fourth book, Unraveled Sleeve. Not very organized, I know – but I loved the series and knew I wanted to read them all. So I figured it was time to knuckle down and read the opener.

Crewel World introduces us to Betsy Devonshire and her younger sister Margot Berglund. In California, Betsy's marriage to a philandering college professor has just broken up; so Margot invites her for an extended visit in Excelsior, Minnesota, where Margot owns and operates a needlework shop, the "Crewel World" of the title. The two sisters haven't seen each other for years when the story begins, and they both enjoy the reunion – in fact, Margot encourages Betsy to make Excelsior her new home and even gives her a job in the shop. The small town is friendly and Betsy is settling in comfortably when disaster strikes – Margot is found murdered, and Betsy is drawn into the search for her killer.

Having already read a couple of the later books, I missed out on a good deal of the mystery in this one – I knew that several of the suspects were innocent and would return as regulars in the later novels. But that certainly didn't spoil the enjoyment. And although I sussed out the culprit pretty early on, watching Betsy develop both her sleuthing and needlework skills was lots of fun (if murder can ever be considered fun).

Of course one of the main attractions of the books, for me anyway, is their emphasis on the "needle arts" – I've always been an admirer if not much of a practitioner. And they're definitely cozy mysteries – set in a small town with a lot of interesting characters and day-to-day detail, and not a lot of gore or mayhem – another reason to keep me reading.

But I think the main thing I like about the books is Betsy herself. Already 55 when the series begins, she's not quite sure where life is leading her:

Betsy remembered reading somewhere that while men are scared of birthdays ending in zero, women are frightened by birthdays ending in five. Certainly Betsy was. Fifty-five is no longer young, even when considered while you were in good spirits. Fifty-five can see old age rushing toward it like a mighty tree axed at the root. All too soon it would be crash: sixty! [Chapter 1, p. 10]

Betsy Devonshire is someone a reader of a certain age can really identify with.

(Each book in this series includes a free needlework pattern. In this first book, the pattern is a magnificent Chinese horse, adapted from a T'ang Dynasty sculpture – a tie-in with the book's plot, and much too ambitious for the inexperienced needle-worker. I believe the patterns in most of the later books have been a bit less intricate. You can learn more about the Betsy Devonshire books and their author by visiting the Monica Ferris web site.)

Review: The Grand Complication

Written by Allen Kurzweil
Published by Hyperion, 2001, 360 pp.
Winter Reading Challenge

The search began with a library call slip and the gracious query of an elegant man.
"I beg your pardon," said the man, bowing ever so slightly, "Might I steal a moment of your time?"

So begins Allen Kurzweil's The Grand Complication. The book's narrator and protagonist, Alexander Short, is a reference librarian at a Manhattan library, very much like (wink, wink) the New York Public. Through his job, Alexander meets and is, in effect, seduced by the impressively named and impressively wealthy Henry James Jesson III, who wants the young librarian to help him "with a case." The "case" turns out to be an actual box – an incomplete cabinet of curiosities put together by a mysterious 18th-century inventor. Alexander resists the offer at first, but eventually gives in, and the rest of the novel involves his search for the cabinet's one missing object – a magnificent timepiece supposedly made for Marie Antoinette.

The Grand Complication is a mystery tale and, as in any good mystery tale, along the way we learn that many things are not exactly what they seem. Mr. Jesson's story, the legendary timepiece, and Mr. Jesson himself turn out to be much more complicated than at first we might have suspected – well, at least more complicated than Alexander suspected. So we end up unraveling more than just the secret of the queen's magnificent pocket watch.

This book has drawn mixed reviews, and I have to admit Kurzweil doesn't produce the most sparkling prose. But I enjoyed it very much – it's a fast-paced read, with a lot of humor and many surprises sprinkled throughout. There's also a nice love story included – the courtship and rocky marriage of Alexander and his French wife, Nic.

Then there's all the library arcana – my favorite part of the book – and Alexander's fascination with "objects of enclosure" and with the Dewey system of classification:

The system lets the well-trained librarian synthesize a hierarchy of people, places, and things, of ideas and phenomena. What's more, it encourages that hierarchy both to grow and to be remembered. Familiarity with classes, divisions, and sections means this: that if a reader walks up and requests, say, The Study of Arab Women: A Bibliography of Bibliographies, a librarian who knows the system can direct the inquirer with confidence to 016.016305488927. [Chapter 55, p. 319]

Ultimately, I suppose I was attracted to Alexander because he's such a meticulous list-maker. At one point, he admits to Nic that his ambition is "to compose lists," prompting her to ask if he wants to set them to music. He collects library call slips – his own and those of other library patrons. He even goes so far as to wear a journal (hand made by Nic) fastened to his clothing, for making lists and notes – in imitation of the "girdle books" employed by medieval monks. Now that's a man after my own heart.

Random Photo Monday

Two photos, actually. And not so random. In the midst of all this winter weather, I just thought it would be nice to remember summer at the beach.

Somebody Stop Me!

This has got to be the last one for a while, OK? But I found another reading challenge that's just too perfect to pass up, especially since overlaps with other challenges are allowed.

It's the Eponymous Reading Challenge, hosted by CoversGirl at Between the Covers and while I might have some trouble spelling it, I'm definitely going to sign up. These are the rules:

The challenge will run from 1 March to 31 May, 2008.
During that time your mission should you choose to accept it is to read 4 books whose titles are the name of one or more of the characters (e.g. Evelina, Oscar and Lucinda); or a description of one or more of the characters (e.g. The Merchant of Venice, Sylvia’s Lovers).
Non-fiction books and overlaps with other challenges are welcome, as are books named after four-legged characters.

I'm already reading several books that will fit right in, so I think I can do this. Here's my (tentative) list of titles:

Chatterton, by Peter Ackroyd (overlap: Man-Booker Challenge) [See Review]
Emma, by Jane Austen [See Review]
Hitty, Her First Hundred Years, by Rachel Field (overlap: Young Readers Challenge)
The Master, by Colm Toíbín (overlap: Man-Booker Challenge)

And since I don't yet have the Chatterton book in my hot little hands, I've got a few (well, quite a few) alternate choices from my to-be-read pile:

Dolly, by Anita Brookner
The Fencing Master, by Arturo Perez-Reverte
The Gravedigger's Daughter, by Joyce Carol Oates
Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone, by J.K. Rowling
Homer Price, by Robert McCloskey
Loving Frank, by Nancy Horan
Martin Dressler, by Steven Millhauser
Miss Julia Speaks Her Mind, by Ann B. Ross
Mrs. Frisby and the Rats of NIMH, by Robert C. O'Brien (overlap: Young Readers Challenge)
Mrs. Malory and Death By Water, by Hazel Holt [See Review]
Winnie and Wolf, by A.N. Wilson

Pride Goeth Before a Fall?

Well, we can all rest a lot easier now. Michelle Obama is proud of us for the first time in her adult life. That makes me so happy!

Review: Twig

Written and illustrated by Elizabeth Orton Jones
60th Anniversary Edition, published by Purple House Press, 2002, 152 pp.
Originally published by The Macmillan Company, 1942
Young Readers Challenge 2008

"Well, who ever heard of going to Fairyland with a plain ordinary old dress on? Just look at it, Your Majesty!" said Twig. "And just look at these old shoes!"

The Queen looked at them and smiled. "They're only on the outside of you, Twig," she said. "It doesn't matter how plain or how ordinary or how old the things on the outside are, you know. It's what is inside that matters."

This book was first recommended to me by my friend Carol Sue when we were in second grade together. She absolutely loved it, and talked about it almost incessantly for about a week. And I was very attracted to it at first – the pictures were wonderful and I loved the idea of being able to shrink down to the size of a sparrow and sit on a dandelion leaf. However, as soon as CS told me that one of the characters in the book was a cockroach, I said "No way, José!" (or the mid-1950s, second-grade equivalent of "No way, José"), and that was that.

But I remembered Twig over the years, and as I grew up and became more liberal about reading-matter taboos, I always intended to try to find and read the book that had made my little girlfriend so happy all those many years ago. And thanks to the Young Readers Challenge, now I have.

Twig is a little girl who lives with her Mama and Papa in an apartment on the fourth floor of a "high sort of house" in the city. She doesn't have other children around to play with, and her world is the back yard, "bounded by houses on three of its sides and by a high fence on its other. Outside the fence was an alley. Inside, was a garbage can."

In the midst of this rather bleak little world, where no grass grows, Twig has discovered a dandelion plant with long leaves "that were bent over like the branches of a tiny tree." And when she finds a discarded tomato can with a rip in its side that resembles a doorway, she washes it out and places it next to the dandelion plant, delighted to see that it looks just like a little house – "just the right size for a fairy."

And eventually a fairy does come along – not just any fairy, but the Queen of Fairyland. But before she shows up, we're introduced to a lot of other wonderful characters, along with Twig. There's the Sparrow family – Sparrow and Mrs. Sparrow and their four children (who are just eggs at the beginning of the story). And there's Old Boy, the ice-wagon horse. And Old Girl, the cat who gives concerts every night.

And then there's Elf, a tiny little fellow dressed in a potato-skin suit, who shows up with a magic book and manages to shrink Twig down to his size – tiny enough to set up housekeeping in the upside-down tomato can. They use one of Twig's Mama's thimbles for a cook pot, and toothpaste tube caps for plates. And Twig sweeps the floor with an old feather from Mrs. Sparrow. And at one point Elf does come home with the aforementioned cockroach (called "Chummie"), but Twig shoos it away very quickly.

When they're not tidying up their tomato-can abode, Twig and Elf visit Mrs. Sparrow in her nest, and sit on her eggs while she goes in search of food and her wandering spouse. The two tiny playmates climb up Old Boy's tail and take a ride inside his ears. And Elf brings Twig a pair of butterfly wings that she attaches to her back and uses to take a little flight around the backyard – before the wings fly off on their own again.

Twig is a very appealing and resourceful little girl. And, of course, when she gets the chance to go live in Fairyland with Elf and the Fairy Queen, she decides she really would rather stay with her Mama and Papa. But during her adventures with Elf and all the other characters, she's learned that she doesn't need a magic book to perform magic – she can make magical things happen anytime she wants, just by using her imagination.

Twig would be a perfect book for reading aloud to preschoolers – most likely over a period of a few days. Since it's aimed at the 4-8 age group, it would probably also work for kids who've learned to read on their own, although I'm not sure how well such an old-fashioned tale would hold their attention. It was first published in 1942, and definitely has a pre-war feel to it.

Elizabeth Orton Jones, in addition to winning the Caldecott medal for Prayer for a Child, also did the illustrations for the 1948 Little Golden Book edition of Little Red Riding Hood, which is one of the best-loved versions of that tale (and one of my childhood favorites). In Twig, the illustrations are a delight: small drawings throughout the book, as well as a number of full-page color pictures.

It's a very cute story – it even has a bit of a "Wizard of Oz" twist at the end. I can see why Carol Sue liked it so much – cockroaches notwithstanding.