<p>I didn’t think the girls in “Brownies” were damaged. I liked their feistiness. The narrator in “Drinking Coffee Elsewhere” sure seemed damaged though.</p>
<p>In “Brownies,” the narrator seemed to be at least a little bit in love with the character Daphne. In “Drinking Coffee Elsewhere,” the narrator seemed to find it difficult to care about anyone.</p>
<p>For some reason, I have been unable to access the site that Katherine Mansfield’s “The Doll’s House” is on. I read about the story, though. It is about racism also.</p>
<p>I might try to get hold of a collection of Katherine Mansfield stories because she is from New Zealand. Since reading The Luminaries I am more interested in New Zealand than I used to be.</p>
<p>My theory is that he was going to give her Margaret Drabble’s The Millstone, but I can think of any number of other possibilities. Damaged might be an exaggeration, for “Brownies”, but no I didn’t see feistiness. I saw a lot of bullying and being mean. I did like the fact that when they realized the other troop was worse off than they were, that they almost backed down from their plot and that it didn’t end up being as ugly as it could have been. But I didn’t meet that kind of meanness in girls until I was in middle school thankfully.</p>
<p>Funnily I read “The Doll’s House” as more about classism than racism. Did I miss something obvious?</p>
<p>mathmom said: “Funnily I read “The Doll’s House” as more about classism than racism. Did I miss something obvious”?</p>
<p>I thought so too. And what the adults pass down to their children. So sad. </p>
<p>I listened to the author reading “Brownies” on youtube. It brought back memories of my D’s elementary school years and how mean little girls can be when they’re in groups. </p>
<p>*But David Foster Wallace predicted a hopeful turn. He could see a new wave of artistic rebels who “might well emerge as **some weird bunch of anti-rebels… who dare somehow to back away from ironic watching, who have the childish gall actually to endorse and instantiate single-entendre principles… Who eschew self-consciousness and hip fatigue.” **Yet Wallace was tentative and self-conscious in describing these rebels of sincerity. He suspected they would be called out as “backward, quaint, naïve, anachronistic.” He didn’t know if their mission would succeed, but he knew real rebels risked disapproval. As far as he could tell, the next wave of great artists would dare to cut against the prevailing tone of cynicism and irony, risking “sentimentality,” “ovecredulity” and “softness.”</p>
<p>Wallace called for art that redeems rather than simply ridicules, but he didn’t look widely enough. Mostly, he fixed his gaze within a limited tradition of white, male novelists. Indeed, no matter how cynical and nihilistic the times, we have always had artists who make work that invokes meaning, hope and mystery. But they might not have been the heirs to Thomas Pynchon or Don Delillo. So, to be more nuanced about what’s at stake: In the present moment, where does art rise above ironic ridicule and aspire to greatness, in terms of challenging convention and elevating the human spirit? Where does art build on the best of human creation and also open possibilities for the future? What does inspired art-making look like?*</p>
<p>I might argue (along with Ursula LeGuin) that they might look to genre literature for inspired art-making. Or YA literature. But I’m not a fan of much literary fiction - I want characters I like, bad things can happen to them, but I want some sort of happy end even if it’s bittersweet. I want a well-written story that isn’t so tricksy you can’t figure out what happened. I don’t want to be given two endings (a la The French Lieutenant’s Woman) or endings that stop short of the resolution (one of the Martha Grimes’ mysteries - I never read another one after that).</p>
<p>I too noticed how different the stories were from the novel. Just about every one of them seemed steeped in despair and a pessimistic view of humanity. </p>
<p>“Ironhead” and “What Feels Like the World” weren’t like that. And I still stand by the girls in “Brownies.” I don’t think they were vicious bullies. I think they were suspicious of and hostile to the white girls because they really didn’t know any.</p>
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<p>Two novels I could recommend to you are Americanah by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie and The Round House by Louise Erdrich.</p>
<p>Very true! But it was a smart choice by Zevin. Can you imagine if the accompanying stories were all of the “Chicken Soup for the Soul” variety? Instead, they provide a balance to the book, offering the reader—to use A.J.’s words—“dark places that I might like to visit.”</p>
<p>Thanks for the interesting Salon article. The author writes, “One attribute of a move toward something greater is to reject the safety of ironic remove and risk the possibility of failure.” He goes on to mention three novels that took a risk by going “sentimental.” One of those is Gilead, which I haven’t read; however, the setup reminded me of A.J. Fikry: “Marilynne Robinson’s *Gilead<a href=“2004”>/i</a> is a novel of letters written from a dying pastor to his 7-year-old son. The old pastor’s reflections are mixed with anxiety and loneliness, but most of all, a deeply-felt reverence for the richness of everyday life.”</p>
<p>Coincidentally, and surprisingly, the author’s trio includes The Road, which I mentioned in an earlier post as being the antithesis of A.J. Fikry. But his point is that despite its post-apocalyptic horrors, the book displays the resilience of the human spirit: “From reverence, to reckoning, to redemption, these three novels mark a larger shift in tone from the ironic to the sincere.”</p>
<p>“Ironhead” might not be pessimistic exactly, but the boy dies! I thought it was a total downer. “What feels like the World” was also sad, but I do agree that it’s about loving a kid for what they are, and the helplessness of parenthood. A little pessimistic, but yes ultimately about love.</p>
<p>Interesting about Gilead. I haven’t read it either. Marilynne Robinson’s “Housekeeping” was one of the saddest books I ever read…painfully sad. </p>
<p>I saw * The Road* as a book about love–incredible and unconditional love of a father for his child. Kind of like the very sad “Ironhead”. Gilead I remember being more conflicted and complex in message.</p>
<p>Speaking of downers, I’m listening to J.K. Rowling’s The Casual Vacancy. Absolutely depressing. My college age son who’s home for a little while is convinced I’m ruining good summer time by surrounding myself with such negativity. Fortunately for all of us, I’m almost done. How an author could write such a book after the Harry series, I cannot imagine.</p>
<p>I actually wanted to “like” this post more than one time. I can’t and since I can’t refer to a post number … well, here it is again. I can only say “Yes!”</p>
<p>On the amusing side, it reminds me somewhat of A.J.'s rundown of what he doesn’t like to read when he first meets Amelia. mathmom doesn’t dwell solely on what she doesn’t like, of course.</p>
<p>I may have mentioned this before, but I don’t think the happy endings in YA novels are necessarily “legit” happy endings. I read a number of these novels when I was volunteering in a school library back in the 90s. They tended to have very harrowing content, with a happy ending tacked on. In a realistic adult novel of the same intensity, the ending could not have been happy…it would not have made sense. But I guess it’s a formula that’s successful with kids.</p>
<p>I wasn’t surprised at the outcome. I had realized by that point that although the novel is uplifting, Zevin wasn’t aiming for some kind of literary Karate Kid finale.</p>
<p>A.J. says, “Take heart, Maya. As a bookseller, I assure you that prizewinning can be somewhat important for sales but rarely matters much in terms of quality” (p. 187).</p>
<p>We know that to be true from our own book club selections, but there’s a catch, i.e., how do you widely circulate a quality book if it doesn’t have a prize that captures people’s attention? Even though we know prizewinners can be iffy, those award lists are still the go-to place when looking for ideas.</p>
<p>^^^ I look forward to the Lariat Reading List (Texas Library Association) each year:</p>
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<p>I’ve noticed several books from this list discussed recently on our own Best Book thread - another good source of titles. I also always enjoy the Goodreads Choice Awards at the end of each year. I like how the titles are listed by genre.</p>
<p>Like Mary, Maya’s third place acknowledgement does not surprise - though I would have been surprised had she not been a finalist at all.</p>
<p>What do you think of A.J.’s comments to Maya about why certain books and stories win prizes and others don’t?<br>
It makes sense to me. Look how varied our reading tastes are on this thread. My local librarian had the honor of being on the Newbery Award selection committee one year. I don’t know anything about the process - only that the book awarded the medal was not his personal favorite.</p>
<p>** Does the knowledge that a book has won a prize attract you to reading it?** Yes and no. I look to see the titles and then look closely at the reviews. Occasionally I’ll read something against my better judgement only to find out my better judgement was wrong - other times I swear never to go against dip my toes in that particular water again.</p>
<p>*I’m still working my way through the short stories. Some I’ve liked and others I’ve hated. :-q A.J. and I have different tastes. I do agree with Mary that the stories shouldn’t have leaned to the sweet but surely there could be something in between. Though the stories somehow do match the A.J. depicted - they stay true to his character.</p>
<p>Very much so. However, I have been burned, so I am cautious. I always look for reviews, and reader comments on Amazon, and I try to read a few sample pages if I can.</p>
<p>I have read A Constellation of Vital Phenomena and The Golum and the Jinni from ignatius’ Lariat list. I highly recommend A Constellation of Vital Phenomena. The Golum and the Jinni was definitely worth reading.</p>
<p>The most recent prize-winning book I read that more than fulfilled its promise was The Spinning Heart by Donal Ryan.</p>
<p>I’ve read about 3/4 of the Hugo winners of the last 20 years. Almost half the Nebulas. A handful of the Nobel prize winners. Two of the Pulitzers. (I should probably be embarrassed by that, but some of them I read other books by which I didn’t like.) I think I’ve read all the Newbery Medal winners from 1958 to 2000 which is when my youngest graduated from elementary school. I’ve read some since then, but not all.</p>