Our
sixth year of the Scooties was admittedly a slow one. It was a difficult and
heart-rending year for me in many ways, one that saw me struggle to do the
things that seem as natural to me as breathing: writing and reading. But I’m
trying to get there.
Better
late than never ...
#1: “Selected Stories,” by William Trevor
What I Wrote Then:
In
“Selected Stories,” Trevor has created a fascinating inventory of case studies
on the issue of malevolence, and how understated evil can take root in
seemingly good people. He uses sparse, but dense and powerful prose to sketch
characters that you simultaneously detest and empathize with. For me, the seemingly
quiet pastoral life will never be looked at quite the same—a tribute to
Trevor’s ability to evoke emotion with an understated mastery of sparsely
impactful prose.
What I Say Now:
Trevor’s
collection of stark-yet-powerful short stories evoke emotions with a soaring
words-to-emotion ratio. His willingness to taken on the dark spots of normal
folks’ souls amidst the pastoral Irish environment makes for wonderful—if
draining—reading.
Passage to Remember:
“Nothing of love had been destroyed
today: they took that with them as they drew apart and walked away from one
another, unaware that the future was less bleak than it now seemed, that in it
there still would be the delicacy of their reticence, and they themselves as
love had made them for a while.”
#2: “A Week at the Airport,” by Alain de
Botton
What I Wrote Then:
This fascinating book packs an
unbelievably emotional wallop into just 107 pages -- an unmistakable gift for
and from a writer charged with “just” detailing an airport.
What I Say Now:
The
premise undertaken by de Botton is difficult not to accept as underwhelming and
unappealing. Somehow, some way, the author makes it not only work, but charges
it with higher-level thinking and insights that elevates this form far past
what would appear to be possible. On second thought, there is no “somehow, some
way,” however; the answer lies in the simplest of solutions: brilliant writing.
Passage to Remember:
“We forget everything: the books we
read, the temples of Japan, the tombs of Luxor, the airline queues, our own
foolishness. And so we gradually return to identifying happiness with elsewhere:
twin rooms overlooking a harbour, a hilltop church boasting the remains of the
Sicilian martyr St Agatha, a palm-fringed bungalow with complimentary evening
buffet service. We recover an appetite for packing, hoping and screaming. We
will need to go back and learn the important lessons of the airport all over
again soon.”
#3: “Ten Thousand Saints,” by Eleanor
Henderson
What I Wrote Then:
All in all, I felt “Ten Thousand Saints”
was a great tale, though not a great story ... But to be fair, Henderson employs
some really beautiful, mature writing, and eminently quotable turns of phrase.
The result is an evocative, humorous novel, a coming-of-age tale wrapped in a
series of love stories, fraught with real emotion ... balanced by harsh
reality.
What I Say Now:
Henderson’s
ambitious novel may have taken on too many weighty themes, but the story is
engrossing and the characters reel you in unflinchingly. It’s a book you didn’t
want to put down and a tale you didn’t want to end—and that reality puts all
minor faults in truest context.
And
as an added bonus, the gifted author thanked me for the review on Twitter ...
Passage to Remember:
“Even when the baby was out of her ...
she kept her eyes closed tight. She knew how easy it is to fall in love.”
#4: “Hunger Games,” by Suzanne Collins
What I Wrote Then:
My first impression was that the central
theme mirrored a lot of aspects of human hunting for sport, as highlighted in
Richard Bachman/Stephen Kings books “Running Man” and “The Long Walk,” as well
as the Richard Connell short story “The Most Dangerous Game” (also called
“Hounds of Zaroff”). There were even elements of “The Truman Show” and “1984,”
with the constant surveillance and the “Big Brother” authority overhanging
everything. Admittedly, these are more than worthy references and anchors on
which to base your story.
What I Say Now:
Sure,
Collins’s work drew heavily on the art of others. Sure, it was designed for a
young-adult audience. Sure, the rest of the trilogy sort of fell apart as the
story progressed. But this kickoff point was an engrossing, well-told,
tremendous tale.
Passage to Remember:
“As I slowly, thoroughly wash the makeup
from my face and put my hair in its braid, I begin transforming back into
myself. Katniss Everdeen. A girl who lives in the Seam. Hunts in the woods.
Trades in the Hob. I stare in the mirror as I try to remember who I am and who
I am not.”
#5: “The Wind Through the Keyhole,” by
Stephen King
What I Wrote Then:
Even after some 4,000 pages of the Dark
Tower series, even this small morsel had me yearning for more. Will King yield
to the masses and rattle off a handful of similar side tales to appease
Faithful Reader? Time will tell, and as in King’s own words, “Time was a
face on the water, and like the great river before them, it did nothing but
flow.”
What I Say Now:
This
way-too-but-understandably-short late entry to the “Dark Tower” epicness grabbed
me by the collar and dragged me along, tinged with melancholy for characters
missed and storylines unvisited in far too long. The narrative exists somewhat
outside the “Dark Tower” plot, but in a clever way, leading to a hopeful
optimism that more of the same could eventually be on the way.
Passage to Remember:
“Time is a keyhole, he thought as
he looked up at the stars. Yes,
I think so. We sometimes bend and peer through it. And the wind we feel on our
cheeks when we do—the wind that blows through the keyhole—is the breath of all
the living universe.”
Editor’s Note:
