Since the first set of our Valley Choral Society Christmas concerts is this weekend, and we've already had three 6:30-10 pm rehearsals this week, tonight is the only night for me to work on my online class. I'm supposed to describe the final in "more detail."
Instead, let me procrastinate a little longer so I can describe to you some of my thoughts about books I've recently read.
The first one, Lisey's Story by Stephen King, is one of the best books I've read in quite a while. I'm fascinated by King's literary style and am pleased to be able to experience the maturation of an author's style as it happens (as contrasted to studying an author from the past in an English class). I read the book as two selves: the reader who was following the plot, and the analyst who noted King's method for transitioning from present to past, the way he parceled out how his characters looked, and how he managed to make a terrible plot element take a back seat to the dominant love-story theme. (Note: the "terrible" part is no worse than what you read in The Color Purple, but I don't want to give the story away by being more specific.)
As usual for a King novel, there's a hefty dose of coarse language and violence, so if that distracts you from enjoying the book, leave this one alone. Also, as usual, the protagonist is a writer. In typical King fashion, the border between the Real World and an invisible horror is thin. But the great part of this book is how deftly he crafts the image of the endurance of love between a husband and wife. This is the same theme he used in Bag of Bones, which is my other favorite book of his (and which cost me a job, but that's another story). Definitely a departure and an improvement from his earlier blood-and-horror books.
The second book I want to address is one of the WORST that I've read lately, Son of a Witch by Gregory Macguire. The first in this series, Wicked, was amusing and sardonic -- a clever twist on the Wizard of Oz story. It was so successful it was turned into a Broadway show. Later I read his Confessions of an Ugly Stepsister which was ok, but not good enough to make me want to read more, until I was in an airport and needed something, anything more promising than the usual NYTimes "bestseller" pulp.
Son of a Witch is dark, joyless, and rambling. Characters appear and grow nowhere. They're flat. The story line is disjointed and trite. I don't blame him for milking the OZ concept for as many volumes as he can sell, but save your money and avoid this one.
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