Thoughts on “Will Grayson, Will Grayson” by John Green and David Levithan

After reading Jodi’s review of Will Grayson, Will Grayson by John Green and David Levitham over on Minnesota Reads, I requested the book from my library. I was far too curious not to.

About the Book:

Will Grayson, Will Grayson by John Green & David Levithan (cover)Will Grayson, Will Grayson is told in alternating chapters by two teenage guys, both named, well, Will Grayson. Both live near Chicago; both are in high school (though not the same one). The first Will Grayson is having girl trouble, trying to figure out how he feels about his friend Jane. His best friend, the enormous and very gay football star Tiny Cooper, keeps trying to help but ends up making Will feel worse. The other Will Grayson is having a different kind of girl trouble: his friend Maura wants to be more than friends, though secretly Will is head-over-heels for Isaac, the guy he met online. He hasn’t come out to anyone yet, though Maura seems to suspect something might be up.

The two Will Graysons continue along their parallel tracks, each unaware of the other’s existence. Then, one cold night, the two happen to be in the same bizarre place in Chicago at the same time. Suddenly, their worlds fuse, held together by Tiny Cooper, who ends up with one foot planted in each.

My Thoughts:

Every once in a while I read a book that I really like, but for reasons I can’t explain. Every spare moment I had, I found myself picking up Will Grayson, Will Grayson; I finished it in two days. Yet I can’t put my finger on what made me like it so much. The characters are interesting (especially Tiny), the story is good, the writing is sharp and clever. None of these elements, however, stands out to me as being extraordinary. Rather, I think Will Grayson, Will Grayson is one of those novels where the whole is more than the sum of its parts.

I won’t deny that the book got a little angst-y at times. It never bothered me, but perhaps my teen angst tolerance threshold is rather high. The characters all face teenage problems, yet I thought that, by the end, at least, they’d learned to face these problems in rather mature ways. Pretty much the whole cast ends the novel in a different place than they started, and I had no problem believing their progress.

Something I have left out thus far: Tiny has written a musical about his life, which starts out with the title Tiny Dancer. Maybe it’s because I was part of the drama world in high school, but I loved this aspect of Will Grayson, Will Grayson. Tiny’s lyrics cracked me up, and I could identify with every step of the dramatic production process. It was fun to revisit that particular slice of high school.

My only complaint was that, for the first half of the book, I found it a bit hard to keep the Will Graysons straight. Though one uses proper capitalization and the other uses none, they have similar styles. The Will Grayson with the internet boyfriend was a bit mopier, I suppose. They also both have small groups of guy friends, who I kept getting confused. This complaint is definitely a minor one.

I absolutely enjoyed Will Grayson, Will Grayson, even though I can’t point to what, exactly, made me like it so darn much. I get the feeling it’s one of those novels you either really like or find annoying. I’m firmly in the former camp.

Your Turn!

If you’ve read Will Grayson, Will Grayson, what did you think? Have you ever read a novel that you really liked, even though you can’t explain exactly why?

Sunday Salon: Rereading

The Sunday Salon.com

I have never been a rereader. As Nick Hornby writes in The Polysyllabic Spree:

“I don’t reread books often; I’m too conscious of both my ignorance and my mortality.” (p. 25)

I agree. With so much out there to read and so little time in which to read it, it’s hard for me to justify rereading. I’ve only read the Harry Potter series once; I never reread the previous books in preparation for the next installment’s release. My shelves are full of favorite titles I want in my collection but have had no plans to revisit. I don’t mind; I see my library is a reflection of me, so naturally it should be made up of my favorites. Even if I don’t reread them yearly…or ever.

I’ve come to think there is another, deeper reason I avoid rereading. The books I would reread are my favorites, the ones I couldn’t tear myself away from when I read them the first time. What if, upon rereading, I discover they’ve lost some of their magic? Suppose I find they don’t affect me the same way? I would be so disappointed. And so I leave them on the shelf.

Recently I’ve had reason to reread several books. A college course assigned Their Eyes Were Watching God by Zora Neale Hurston, which I’d read in high school. While I’d been indifferent to the novel the first time through, I couldn’t believe how much I loved it upon rereading. There were To Kill a Mockinbird by Harper Lee and The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald, others I didn’t care for in high school, which I chose to listen to in the past few months and ended up adoring. And then there was my most recent reread, The Housekeeper and the Professor by Yoko Ogawa, which I liked when I read it on my own and liked even more when I read it again for my book group.

My point? I’ve yet to not enjoy rereading a book. That’s a little confusing. What I mean is, even the books I hated the first time around, I’ve liked the second. It’s making me reconsider my habitual stance on rereading.

(Of course, I don’t think there’s some sort of magic in rereading that renders every revisited book amazing, no matter how hated it was after the first meeting. There are some books I’m not going to like regardless of how many times I reread them. Like A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man.)

This month, I have the opportunity to reread one of my absolute favorite YA novels of all time, ever. I can still remember how thoroughly Kristin Cashore’s Graceling sucked me in, how invested I was, how hard it was for me to tear myself out of Katsa’s world and back into my own. The characters were–are–so real to me. I’m torn: part of me thrills at the thought of getting all wrapped up in Graceling again, but the other part hesitates for fear it won’t be as magical the second time through.

And so I call on you, my fellow readers: What are your experiences with rereading? Have your opinions of books changed with a second (third, fourth) reading? Do your very favorites lose or gain with repeated readings?

My Week in Books: October 31-November 6

My Week in Books

Welcome to my weekly Saturday feature here at Erin Reads, where I highlight new books that have entered my life, what I’ve been reading, and what’s happened on Erin Reads over the past week.

New Acquisitions

I went a little used-book crazy this past week. Between my library and the Half Price Books clearance section, I managed to acquire five new-to-me books, each for $2 or less. Here they are:

Acquisitions

From the top down (click titles for GoodReads summaries):

  • The Sparrow by Mary Doria Russell: No review I’ve ever read has quite managed to to make me understand this book’s plot. But! I’ve had so many people whose opinions I trust tell me they loved The Sparrow that, for $1, I couldn’t pass it up.
  • The Spirit Catches You and You Fall Down by Anne Fadiman: Look at me, buying nonfiction! I’ve been told The Spirit Catches You an You Fall Down is absolutely fascinating. It tells of the clash between the medical and Hmong communities over how to treat a baby girl who suffers from seizures.
  • Middlesex by Jeffrey Eugenides: I had planned to listen to Middlesex on audio, but then I found this used copy making eyes at me from its spot on the library’s for-sale shelf. It follows a Greek American family through three generations and has a wonderful opening line:

“I was born twice: first, as a baby girl, on a remarkably smogless Detroit day in January of 1960; and then again, as a teenage boy, in an emergency room near Petoskey, Michigan, in August of 1974.”

  • The Name of the Wind by Patrick Rothfuss: I’m rather picky about which fantasy novels I’ll read, but The Name of the Wind comes very highly recommended by someone who’s as picky about her fantasy as I am. It’s the first (and only, to date) in the Kingkiller series. That’s all I know about it!
  • Innocent Traitor by Alison Weir: This one is narrated by 15-year-old Lady Jane Grey, great-niece of King Henry VIII. I’ve not yet read Alison Weir, but I love good historical fiction and am looking forward to digging into Innocent Traitor!

Have you read any of these? Have I made sound choices?

Read This Week

As October transitioned into November, I finished up last month’s books and started on some new projects. I finished The Housekeeper and the Professor by Yoko Ogawa for my book group and wrapped up Good Omens by Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett on audio. I also read, in a day, the newest from Dennis Lehane, Moonlight Mile.

The rest of the week was taken up by two bigger projects. First, I’m hoping to finish Kate Morton’s The Distant Hours by its release date on Tuesday. I think I’ll make it! It’s pushing 700 pages, but I have thoroughly enjoyed what I’ve read so far and can’t wait to review it. I also started–tentatively!–listening to The Odyssey, read by Ian McKellen (how cool is that?) for Trish’s readalong. I was beyond hesitant to join, because I hated slogging through The Odyssey in college, but Trish suggested giving the audiobook a chance. I’ve made it through the first few books, and I am shocked to admit that I am actually enjoying it! Woo hoo!

Erin Reads Recap

Your Turn!

How was your reading week? Did you acquire anything you can’t wait to read? Start or finish anything exciting? I’d love to hear about it!

Books for Your Ears: Fiction Favorites

A few Fridays ago I introduced a miniseries featuring some of my favorite audiobooks. This week, I’ll be focusing on fiction. I’m so excited to share these picks with you!

Books for Your Ears - Fiction

The Elegance of the Hedgehog by Muriel Barbery (narrated by Barbara Rosenblat and Cassandra Morris)

Of course, I must start with the audiobook that got me hooked on listening to books. As I posted a few weeks back, I received a copy of The Elegance of the Hedgehog audiobook at BEA a year and a half ago. It’s not a novel I would have gotten through in print; it’s too dense, too ponderous. Read aloud by a pair of talented narrators, however, the book quickly drew me in and became one of my favorites. I listened to The Elegance of the Hedgehog nearly in its entirety during a weekend-long road trip.

Set in France, the novel follows two characters who live in the same Parisian apartment building. Renee, the concierge (read by Rosenblat), keeps up the dull facade the building’s tenants expect from her so as not to arouse suspicion. But behind her closed door, Renee carries on a rich intellectual life. She loves opera, reads Tolstoy, and studies philosophy. Meanwhile, Paloma, the extraordinarily precocious twelve-year-old upstairs (read by Morris), has decided, based on observation of the people around her, that life is meaningless. She has given herself until her thirteenth birthday to find a reason to continue living; if she cannot, she is prepared to commit suicide. The voices of both characters are delightfully unique. It is a beautiful story with complicated characters, brought to life exquisitely by skilled readers.

Water for Elephants by Sara Gruen (narrated by David LeDoux and John Randolph Jones)

I think that, by now, many people have read Water for Elephants by Sara Gruen. In print, it never interested me. But, as a bookseller a few years back, I felt like it was one of those books I should have read. I got the audiobook from the library and listened to it at the gym. As you may have guessed, seeing as it’s made my recommended fiction on audio list, I quite enjoyed it.

We meet Jacob Jankowski when he is in his 90s–he can’t remember exactly where–and living in a nursing home, an arrangement he hates. As he reflects on his life, he tells the story of his youth. A week before his final veterinary school exams at Cornell, when he was 21, his parents were killed in a car accident. When it came time to take the final, he couldn’t write a word. Instead, Jacob ran away and joined a traveling circus, using his veterinary skills to care for its animals. The world Jacob entered was dark, gritty, and dangerous, peopled with explosive personalities and shady characters. Except for Marlena–she was the bright spot in Jacob’s world.

The novel alternates between old Jacob (read by Jones) and young Jacob (read by LeDoux). The contrast between the two Jacobs was heightened, for me, by the two separate narrators: one slow and gravelly, the other young and energetic. I couldn’t wait to get back on the treadmill every evening to continue the story.

City of Thieves by David Benioff (narrated by Ron Perlman)

My brother isn’t a big reader. So when he told me he’d stayed up until 4 in the morning to finish City of Thieves, I paid attention. My library at the time offered the audiobook for download. I spent a day listening to it while cleaning and doing laundry, so enthralled by City of Thieves that I hardly minded my boring tasks.

Set during the Siege of Leningrad during World War II, the novel is told from the perspective of Lev Benioff, the author’s (fictional?) grandfather. Arrested for looting the corpse of a German soldier and for being out past curfew, Lev finds himself imprisoned with Kolya, who turns out to be quite a colorful character and a good foil to the more reserved Lev. They are brought before the Russian colonel, who takes their ration cards and gives them a task: they must procure a dozen eggs for colonel’s daughter’s wedding cake by the following week. Should they fail, they will either be killed by the colonel’s men or starve to death without their ration cards. What follows is their search for this precious commodity, which brings them face-to-face with unspeakable atrocities and unforgettable people.

Ron Perlman, the narrator, embodies Lev perfectly. It was like listening to Lev tell me his story, which is a characteristic I adore in an audiobook. Though the story spans only a few days, it packs enough nail-biting action to keep you listening.

Oryx and Crake (narrated by Campbell Scott) and The Year of the Flood (narrated by Bernadette Dunne, Katie MacNichol, and Mark Bramhall) by Margaret Atwood

I loved by Margaret Atwood’s Oryx and Crake and The Year of the Flood. This pair of dystopian novels tell two sides to the same story: in the not-so-distant future, most of the human race has been wiped out by a deadly pandemic. Having survived somehow, the characters of both novels must learn to navigate the new landscape. Oryx and Crake follows Jimmy, while The Year of the Flood is told in alternating chapters by Ren and Toby.

Each novel spans only a brief time in each character’s present, instead allowing the story to unfold through flashbacks to their lives before the “waterless flood.” Through these flashbacks, each story on its own as well as the two books clicks into place in a masterfully coherent big picture. More than once I was struck with “Oh!” moments when tales aligned or some piece of the puzzle was casually revealed. The way the stories build on one other is fascinating to behold. Not to mention that Atwood’s fabricated future is, in my opinion, both creepy and well done.

It’s hard to explain much about either book’s plot without beginning to unravel the mystery. As the mystery unraveling was one of my favorite aspects of the story, I’ll direct you elsewhere for summaries, should you be interested. Here you go (titles link to GoodReads): summaries for Oryx and Crake and The Year of the Flood.

The readers for both books are fantastic. I can still hear them in my head; they became the voices of Atwood’s characters for me. My one complaint was the musical numbers in The Year of the Flood, supposedly sung by God’s Gardeners, a religious group to which Ren and Toby belonged. They just…didn’t seem to fit. (There’s a sample at the book’s website, if you’re curious!) Luckily, it was easy to just skip them, which I eventually started doing. Overall, I didn’t want to stop listening to either book, and I didn’t want either to end.

Your Turn!

Do you have a favorite fiction audiobook? How about a favorite novel you think would work well as an audiobook?

Thoughts on “The Housekeeper and the Professor” by Yoko Ogawa

I first read The Housekeeper and the Professor by Yoko Ogawa a few years ago. I picked it up again because my book group selected it for their November read.

About the Book:

“We called him the Professor. And he called my son Root, because, he said, the flat top of his head reminded him of the square root sign.” (p. 1)

The Housekeeper and the Professor by Yoko Ogawa (cover)So begins The Housekeeper and the Professor. The Professor, a brilliant mathematician, has a short-term memory that only lasts 80 minutes, the result of a car accident many years ago. The Housekeeper is our narrator and the tenth in a long line of housekeepers brought in by the Professor’s sister-in-law to care for him. At the Professor’s insistence, the Housekeeper’s ten-year-old son, “Root,” spends his evenings at the Professor’s small cottage while his mother cooks and cleans.

Each day, the Housekeeper introduces herself to the Professor, who has forgotten her overnight. And every afternoon, when Root comes over after school, the Professor meets him as if for the first time. Though one cannot remember the other two from day to day, a lovely friendship begins to bloom between the three nameless characters. The Housekeeper and her son learn to accommodate for the Professor’s abbreviated memory. At the same time, the Professor leans heavily on the one thing his mind remembers with perfect clarity: mathematics. In ordinary moments throughout the day, he draws connections between seemingly unrelated numbers and reveals to the Housekeeper–and the reader–the unexpected beauty hidden in math.

My Thoughts:

The Housekeeper and the Professor is a gentle, cozy novel. No character is named, and the bulk of the story includes only three: the Housekeeper, the Professor, and “Root.” Most of the novel takes place in the Professor’s tiny cottage, which he rarely leaves. The result is a simple story, the sort you can read in a day while curled up in a sunny window with a cup of tea. Yet it is also deep, exploring memory and friendship and family.

I would never have believed that mathematics could be so seamlessly woven into fiction that I hardly questioned its presence there. The Professor, a great mathematician and a gifted teacher, imparts facts about prime numbers and esoteric formulas to the Housekeeper, Root, and even the reader in such a natural and enthusiastic way that it’s easy to see the beauty of what has always been, for me, a difficult and uninteresting subject. As the Professor instructs and the Housekeeper absorbs, math becomes lovely, even poetic. Here, the Housekeeper has just learned about amicable numbers and twin primes:

“I wondered why ordinary words seemed so exotic when they were used in relation to numbers. Amicable numbers or twin primes had a precise quality about them, and yet they sounded as though they’d been taken straight out of a poem. In my mind, the twins had matching outfits and stood holding hands as they waited in the number line.” (p. 63)

I loved the intimacy of the nontraditional family formed by the Housekeeper, the Professor, and Root. I loved that it did not have to turn sexual for the two adults to find comfort in the connection they shared. Though he does not remember them from day to day, the Professor becomes like a father to Root and a friend and teacher to the Housekeeper. Even as the Housekeeper and Root shelter and care for the Professor, the Professor teaches them about numbers and friendship. The storyline is rather ordinary, but the characters who live it make it beautiful.

Your Turn!

Have you ever read a novel that incorporates an unexpected topic, like the way The Housekeeper and the Professor incorporates mathematics? Did it work for you?