Eli Gottlieb, Now You See Him

This book was given to me by my parents' neighbor, to whom Amazon.com had sent an "advanced reader's edition," the first I ever remember reading. As it was a galley, "from uncorrected proofs," there were quite a few errors, which were somewhat distracting. Still, I read the book quickly; the plot was fairly interesting and the language, though at times unconvincing (especially the dialogue) , was relatively eloquent. Overall, however, I was not much impressed, and was left feeling rather disappointed--though glad enough to have finished.

C.S. Lewis, The Last Battle

C.S. Lewis, The Last Battle.

My parents read C.S. Lewis's Chronicles of Narnia aloud, in rotation, to us kids growing up; when we finished The Last Battle, we'd start over immediately with The Magician's Nephew. I had thus heard them multiple times (and had myself done some of the reading aloud), but had never gone through the series by myself. My mom gave me the set (a nice, slightly moldy used set of the vintage of theirs) for Christmas, and I cruised through them in about a week.

It was an interesting experience on many levels. One was reading them after the other British fantasy I've read since hearing Narnia for the first time--including Tolkien's Lord of the Rings books, Brian Jacques' Redwall series, and most recently all of Harry Potter--and seeing parallels. Another was comparing my adult interpretations of the language with how I'd (mis)understood it as a child--for example, when the Witch gives Edmund "a stunning blow," she's not puckering up and pushing air at him through her lips. And this time, because the time frame in which I went through the series was so compressed, I got a stronger sense of the cleverness and creativity of Narnia's rich and complex history. Finally, I remembered my dad tearing up as he read certain passages, but had never felt particularly compelled as a child--although the Stone Table scene in The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe did make me a little sad. This time, though, I was much more aware of the emotional impact of the stories. It was the end of The Last Battle, which I had remembered as the most boring and vague of the series, that really got me.

Between Harry Potter and the new Golden Compass film (and of course the recent Lord of the Rings and even Narnia films), Lewis's children's stories have been in the media recently. Apparently J.K. Rowling never finished the series, and Philip Pullman has made clear that he despises Lewis; he's popularly credited with saying such things as, "I loathe the ‘Narnia’ books. I hate them with a deep passion, with their view of childhood as a golden age," and calling them "one of the most ugly and poisonous things [he's] ever read." I will grant that the books have clear moral content that's not exactly complex or subtle, but it's hard for me to picture them making kids somehow dumber, less discerning, or generally worse people; in my (biased, but thoughtful) opinion, the alternative seems more probable.

C.S. Lewis, The Silver Chair

C.S. Lewis, The Silver Chair.

Series review here.

C.S. Lewis, The Voyage of the "Dawn Treader"

C.S. Lewis, The Voyage of the "Dawn Treader."

Series review here.

C.S. Lewis, Prince Caspian

C.S. Lewis, Prince Caspian.

Series review here.

C.S. Lewis, The Horse and His Boy

C.S. Lewis, The Horse and His Boy.

Series review here.

C.S. Lewis, The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe

C.S. Lewis, The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe.

Series review here.

C.S. Lewis, The Magician's Nephew

C.S. Lewis, The Magician's Nephew

Series review here.

Nick Hornby, How to Be Good

Nick Hornby, How to Be Good.

Deanna was going to take this book to Goodwill, but I snagged it. I had really enjoyed the films High Fidelity and About A Boy, although I hadn't yet read anything by him.

This book was funny, creative, well-written, and entertaining, although I didn't think it any particular classic. I'll probably still try High Fidelity and/or About A Boy, but should probably take on something a bit more substantive in the meantime.

Umberto Eco, The Mysterious Flame of Queen Loana

Umberto Eco, The Mysterious Flame of Queen Loana.

Umberto Eco is such a genius--see, for example, his texts on semiotics--that it seems unfair that he should even be able to write novels. The facts that they are brilliant, critically acclaimed, and that at least one has been turned into a well-regarded film* just makes it crueler. He has even written a book called History of Beauty. I want to be him.

The Mysterious Flame was another Christmas present, a huge hardback tome peppered with full-color illustrations. It was, predictably, erudite, esoteric, and highly literate. Unlike Foucault's Pendulum and The Name of the Rose, however, I didn't find it particularly entertaining; at times, it was a veritable slog. Still, it did have its moments... and one less-than-riveting novel from this brilliant polymath is small consolation.

*The Name of the Rose, with Sean Connery, which I haven't yet seen.