Review: Peter Pan by J.M. Barrie

Peter Pan is the first book this year that completely embodies the spirit of The Year of Reading Whatever the Hell I Want. I've had the 1996 set of children's classics as long as I can remember, and therefore this book (and The Wizard of Oz, The Water Babies, etc) has sat on my shelf since pretty much forever. Only, when Ellie mentioned that she was reading it, I couldn't remember ever having actually picked it up myself. I mean, I'm sure I must have but I had zero recollection. So, in the spirit of reading whatever the hell I want, I thought 'eh, I'll read it now!' And I did.

Plot summary: One night when Mr and Mrs Darling were out, Peter Pan flew down to their house. In no time at all he had taught their children, Wendy, John and Michael, to fly, and they were off to Neverland on the most exciting adventure of their lives. In Neverland, where the lost boys never grew up, they met mermaids and pirates - including the terrible Captain Hook, whose hand had been eaten by a crocodile.

I'm so happy I read (or reread, who knows?) this book - it's completely different from what I was expecting. It's surprisingly well-written for a 1912 children's book in a sort of chatty, snarky tone that made me snort at times. Whilst the plot is obviously aimed at a younger generation, I never once felt that I was reading something too young for me as I was busy amusing myself with the writing. 

Or at least, I was when I didn't try and over-think it. I was talking about this with Ellie, and we couldn't quite work out whether the tone was meant to be tongue-in-cheek, or whether Mr Barrie was actually quite serious about his comments regarding women and the like. I'm leaning towards intentional humour as it's just a little too over the top if he meant every word.

The bed was tilted against the wall by day, and let down at 6:30, when it filled nearly half the room; and all the boys except Michael slept in it, lying like sardines in a tin. There was a strict rule against turning round until one gave the signal, when all turned at once. Michael should have used it also, but Wendy would have a baby, and he was the littlest, and you know what women are, and the short and the long of it is that he was hung up in a basket.

Wendy's play-acting as a mother was pretty much my favourite thing about the whole novel and I really hope it's satirical. She's meant to be about twelve years old, but runs about doing chores and to her babies. Her smugness is genuinely hysterical.

When she sat down to a basketful of their stockings, every heel with a hole in it, she would fling up her arms and exclaim, "Oh dear, I am sure I sometimes think spinsters are to be envied."

Her face beamed whenever she exclaimed this. 

I love her. Well, much more than I like Peter himself, anyway, who is much more of an arse than he appears to be in the Disney film. Is it okay to not like Peter Pan? He's rude, verging on cruel, to the other boys and Wendy sometimes, and there's a passage about how the whole island sort of relaxes and breathes a sigh of relief when he's not there, but tenses up again whenever he returns. Disney made him much more loveable.

The plot is very similar to the Disney movie (or should I say that the plot of the Disney is very similar to this!) as it doesn't appear that they changed much. The mermaids, the Indians, the crocodile... it's all here, if slightly more brutal. Still, it was a classic adventure book aimed at boys, what can you expect? Captain Hook dismembers one of his crew with his own hook and references are made to tripping over the bodies of the people Peter Pan has quite casually murdered. Nice. 

I actually do recommend this book. It's much engrossing than I expected, with a writing style that's just perfect, regardless of intent. I'm tempted to wander off and watch the film now, but I honestly don't think it's anywhere near as good as the book. 

 I'll link to Ellie's review here, if she posts one. Feel free to twiddle your thumbs in the meantime.

Review: We Need To Talk About Kevin by Lionel Shriver

You'd never believe how long I've put off writing this review; it's just going to be impossible. Not only did this book make me feel such a complex range of emotions, but every single person I've talked to seems to have taken something different from We Need To Talk About Kevin. Ah well, here goes nothing.

Plot summary: Eva never really wanted to be a mother; certainly not the mother of the unlovable boy who murdered seven of his fellow high school students, a cafeteria worker and a teacher who tried to befriend him. Now, two years later, it is time for her to come to terms with marriage, career, family, parenthood and Kevin's horrific rampage in a series of startlingly direct correspondences with her absent husband, Franklyn. Uneasy with the sacrifices and social demotion of motherhood from the start, Eva fears that her alarming dislike for her own son may be responsible for driving him so nihilistically off the rails.

In Lionel Shriver's afterword she says, 'Though any writer is pleased by admiring reviews, I've been more fascinated by the responses to Kevin from so-called 'ordinary' readers. Not only are many of these amateur reviews well written and reflective, but they divide almost straight down the middle into what seems to be reviews of two different books.'

That's exactly it (as much as I bristle at being called ordinary). I've spent quite a while talking to Ellie about this and I swear that she's read a completely different book because her viewpoint is almost the exact opposite of mine. The basic point of We Need To Talk About Kevin is what drove him to murder seven classmates and two adults in a highschool gym - did his unaffectionate mother drive him to it or was he just born 'evil?'

There doesn't seem to be any middle ground here at all - you either completely believe that Eva shouldn't have had children in the first place or you feel desperately sorry for her and the way Kevin turned out. That's a testament to Lionel Shriver's great writing - there are two books intertwined within and your own experiences and your own morals (I think my nine months of working with serial rapists affected my judgement) determine which version plays out in your head.

You know what happened right from the beginning; it's even in the blurb. Kevin shot people and is now in prison. It's hardly a secret. But that's all you know until Eva unravels it for you, little by little. It's as if she's telling a story to her estranged husband but with the benefit of hindsight, and it's that hindsight that makes this story fascinating.

I have reflected on the fact that for most of us, there is a hard, impassable barrier between the most imaginatively detailed depravity and its real-life execution. It's the same solid steel wall that inserts itself between a knife and my wrist even when I'm at my most disconsolate. So how was Kevin able to raise that crossbow, point it at Laura's chestbone, and then really, actually, in time and space, squeeze the release? I can only assume he discovered what I never wish to. That there is no barrier.

This book is perfect. Well, no, actually it's horrible. But it's perfectly written. It's not just what Kevin eventually ends up doing, it's the little details that really 'get' you and keep you looking over your shoulder for days to come. His mannerisms are so spot-on and vaguely terrifying that it's a masterpiece of characterisation.

Eva is also a perfectly written character, but one I had an awful lot more sympathy for. Not killing nine people helps with that, I've found. I wouldn't say I liked her, but I had a lot of respect for her honesty and her willingness to admit her own flaws. Plus, nobody deserves to go through what she has, regardless of... well, anything.

Franklin, Kevin's father, is a little bit flatter as a character but then he doesn't feature half as much as Kevin and Eva do. If I'm honest, I'd have to admit that I hated him more than the other two combined, just for being so damned naive and the infuriating way he undermined Eva at every opportunity. Maybe I should pin any 'blame' on him for lack of appropriate discipline.

I might be more kindly disposed to this ultra-secular notion that whenever bad things happen someone must be held accountable if a curious little halo of blamelessness did not seem to surround those very people who perceive themselves as bordered on every side by wickedness. That is, it seems to be the same folks who are inclined to sue builders who did not perfectly protect them from the depredations of an earthquake who will be the first to claim that their son failed his math test because of attention defecit disorder, and not because he spent the night before at a video arcade instead of studying complex fractions.

It's not just the characters though. What well and truly makes this book is the altering relationship between Kevin and Eva. I've never seen anything like it and I can't even begin to decide which adjectives describe it effectively. It's so subtle but it's definitely there. I think you might have to read it to understand, but you should be reading this anyway.

It was a struggle to read the last few pages. Not because I didn't passionately love the book, but because it's hard. If you have a soul, a heart or any form of compassion, it's so damned hard to turn those pages. I predicted parts of the twist but it didn't stop it from hurting so much. I wanted to cry, throw up and hug Eva all at the same time.

The only only only thing wrong with this book is that occasionally the sentences are a little... odd. Sometimes I had to reread a sentence a few times and mentally add a few commas before I could understand the meaning properly. It's not a constant fault and the prose is of a generally high standard, but that's why I noticed it all the more when it did happen.

We Need To Talk About Kevin isn't an easy read and it's not particularly an enjoyable one either. What it is, is truly amazing. It takes real skill to create a novel so unique that every reader interprets differently. Please read this. It's one of the best books I've ever come across.

This book was:

• The Best Book I Read in 2014
• The Most Unputdownable Book of 2014
• The Most Memorable Character of 2014 (Kevin, obviously)  
• The Book I Can't Believe I Waited Until 2014 To Read

Have you read We Need To Talk About Kevin? What's your view - whose 'fault' was it?

 

Ramblings: Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire by J.K. Rowling

I don't have the audacity to call the below a 'review' for a number of reasons;

a) I didn't take any review notes;
b) It's 1:30am so this will hardly be coherent; and
c) Let's face it, you've all read it already.

There will be spoilers, so don't bitch at me.

I couldn't sleep the other night, so I ended up doing what I always do (and I know is very counter-inducive to sleep, thank you), which is flicking aimlessly through Pinterest on my phone. As I'm sure some of you know, 'fandoms' are very well represented on that website and it doesn't take long before you come across something Harry Potter related.

I clicked on one thing and then must have spent the next hour clicking on 'related items.' Facts about the movies (despite the fact that I hate the damn things), reminisces of first-time-readings, predictions of how the characters' lives turned out... I just scrolled and scrolled. Hey, when you can't sleep...

That's all fine, but I ended up with a desperate desire to read one of the books. Don't get me wrong, I love them but I hadn't touched one of them since 2010 when I read most of them (in the wrong order) in the Summer. I think it's because of the hype... you couldn't get away from Harry Potter for a while and it put me off. The films came out and the games, and J.K. Rowling is never far from the media... anyway, I just hadn't bothered, despite reading them fairly frequently before 2010 (I keep obsessive LibraryThing records).

Still, do you know when I last read Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire? No, nor do I, actually. That's a thing in itself - I've been tracking my reading since 2006 and this book features nowhere in my records, which means the last time I read it was pre-2006. It's just odd. I've reread the others two-four times each in that time, but I never touched this one... I wonder why.

When I left to meet Ellie and Charlotte on Saturday, it was the book I grabbed. I'd already decided to read a Harry Potter book, but I barely put any thought into which one it was going to be (clearly - I know, let's lug around the heaviest book I own while I go shopping all day! Yay!). Maybe I just figured it was the one I remembered the least, which it was.

So I started it... and the book I had been reading went out the window. These books are amazing. I think my four year break helped to reemphasise that... if I'm honest, I had been going off the whole concept. Over-hype in the media can do that, which is silly of me. 

It's a stupid time in the morning but I had to talk about it before I go to sleep and forget how I feel right now. Yes, the books have flaws. There are a few tiny issues that really need explaining, but it doesn't matter. It's the tiny details that make them amazing - Hermione trapping Rita Skeeter/beetle in an Unbreakable Jar, Dumbledore sending McGonagall to retrieve 'the big black dog that will no doubt be sat in Hagrid's pumpkin patch,' and Harry giving the twins enough money to set up a joke shop. The details are the reason I can't read Deathly Hallows without engaging a therapist's services beforehand.

It also occurred to me that I've never read this book whilst knowing how the series ended. There are a lot of hints about the final revelations, which demonstrate that she must have known at least some of where the books were going to end up. She can't have just 'got lucky.' I didn't take note of what they were, but I remember Voldemort soliloquizing about the methods he used to preserve his life and Harry noticing Dumbledore's victorious smile when he hears about the blood transfer. It made me feel smug that I knew what was coming, happy that my respect for the books was confirmed and sad that I already know everything, all at the same time.

These books make you feel things that few other series can. Say what you like about J.K. Rowling (I've probably said most of it myself already), but the Harry Potter books are amazing and I will never regret staying up until 2am to finish one of them.

It's a stupid time in the morning, so excuse the blabbering. What books made you lose sleep?       

Review: Wonder by R.J. Palacio

Ellie sent me a copy of Wonder as a giveaway/RAK type thing in the early months of 2012... and I subsequently failed to read it for a substantial period of time, obviously. However, a few months ago I participated in my very first 24 hour read-a-thon and it seemed like the perfect, light book to keep me going. Except it's not 'light.' It broke me into a million tiny pieces and I still want to hug it three months down the line.

Plot summary: Auggie wants to be an ordinary ten-year-old. He does ordinary things - eating ice cream, playing on his Xbox. He feels ordinary - inside. But ordinary kids don't make other ordinary kids run away screaming in playgrounds. Ordinary kids aren't stared at wherever they go.

Born with a terrible facial abnormality, Auggie has been home-schooled by his parents his whole life. Now, for the first time, he's being sent to a real school - and he's dreading it. All he wants is to be accepted - but can he convince his new classmates that he's just like them, underneath it all?

To begin with, I think it's important that I clarify that Wonder is not just a children's anti-bullying book. It is a book about a boy who is bullied, yes, but that is far from the point of it. I thought it might be too young for me and it wasn't. I thought it might be too twee for me and it wasn't. Whatever your preconceptions are about this book... they're wrong.

I fell completely and totally in love with it by the end of the first paragraph, literally and seriously (because you can never have too many adverbs in one sentence). I never do that. Auggie's voice was just so perfect that something 'clicked' in my head and I settled down to what I knew was going to be a one-sitting read. I wanted to savour every single word because it's not often that a book speaks out to you that clearly.

Obviously I'm not a ten year old boy and I don't have any facial disfigurements, but Auggie seems so real. Everything he says seems to be exactly the way somebody his age and in his situation would think. He's never self-pitying or whiny - he might be slightly naive, but hey, he's ten. It's allowed. It's also clever how he never really explains what he looks like, except for vague hints like 'whatever you're thinking, it's probably worse.' 

I walked towards Jack and followed him out of the auditorium. He held the double doors open for me, and as I passed by, he looked at me right in the face, kind of daring me to look back at him, which I did. Then I actually smiled. I don't know. Sometimes when I have the feeling like I'm almost crying, it can turn into an almost-laughing feeling. And that must have been the feeling I was having then, because I smiled, almost like I was going to giggle. The thing is, because of the way my face is, people who don't know me very well don't always get that I'm smiling. My mouth doesn't go up at the corners the way other people's mouths do. It just goes straight across my face. But somehow Jack got that I had smiled at him. And he smiled back.

It works very well as the narrative then changes to Via, Auggie's sister, who does explain what he looks like. By that point, you're already too in love with him to really care - which is the point of the book, I'd guess. Once you know a person on the inside, you don't care what their outside looks like and this is demonstrated perfectly here.

Some narratives are better than others, obviously. Via (who named these kids!?) can be a bit of a martyr, but then again people do tend to forget about the healthy child and focus on the disabled one. I wish her father would stop going on about War & Peace though, like the fact that she's read it means it's okay for her to take the subway alone? It's a book, not a rape whistle.

The best narrative by far was Jack, a school friend of Auggie's. Again, it captures the persona absolutely perfectly. It demonstrates the precise level of cruelty in children, where they kind of understand the effects of what they're saying, but then kind of not. I read on the author's website that the story was inspired by her own accidental reaction to a child with the same physical problem to Auggie, which probably explains why everything here is so carefully thought out.

Basically, Auggie's disfigurement is shown from lots of different angles - his family, his schoolmates, strangers, etc. These perspectives show that you can think you know what's going on inside a person's head, but you can't - not ever. You automatically assume that people who look afraid of a disfigured person are rude or inconsiderate, but you cannot know how they're actually feeling. Any other book would shove you with the narrative of the poor, disabled boy and that would be that, but not Wonder. It thoroughly explores all the possibilities and leaves you a slightly altered view of the world.

   Jack whispered: "Are you always going to look this way, August? I mean, can't you get plastic surgery or something?"
    I smiled and pointed to my face. "Hello? This is after plastic surgery!"
   Jack clapped his hand over his forehead and started laughing hysterically.
   "Dude, you should sue your doctor!" he answered between giggles.
   This time the two of us were laughing so much we couldn't stop, even after Mr. Roche came over and made us both switch chairs with the kids next to us.

If you've ever been within poking distance of Booking in Heels before, you'll know I don't tend to find the usual books 'moving' or whatever else it is that they're lauded as. Go read my review of The Fault in Our Stars for a demonstration, cause we really didn't get along. But then Wonder came along... and it broke me. I was sat in bed at 3am, tears streaming down my face, full-on sobbing because of what this book did to me. Then I got up and wandered pathetically round the house, looking for my dog to comfort me. When I went back to bed and finished the book, the ending took whatever pieces of me were left and mushed them up a little bit more. This book actually is moving, none of that over-hyped teen romance crap.

The true friendships in this book that really make you feel as if the world isn't such a bad place, after all. There's an all-encompassing form of acceptance that occurs only in very special circumstances, but when it happens it's beautiful.

If you read between the lines of this review very, very carefully, you may just discern that I kind of liked Wonder. Maybe. It's not what I was expecting in the slightest but it's truly Wonder-ful (perhaps the clue is in the title). I don't care if you don't usually read Middle Grade or you're bored of 'bullying is bad' books. I don't CARE - you still have to read this as I can almost guarantee it will exceed your expectations.

Read Ellie's review at Book Addicted Blonde.

Review: Lord of the Flies by William Golding

Do you know how disconcerting it is when three different people tell you how much they disliked your current book? For some reason, Lord of the Flies seems to be one of those universally disliked books, with the odd exception. I really have to save a loving, grateful smile for Bex at An Armchair by the Sea, without whose enthusiastic ravings I might never have persevered with this wonderful, amazing book.

Plot summary - A plane crashes on a desert island and the only survivors, a group of schoolboys, assemble on the beach and wait to be rescued. By day they inhabit a land of bright fantastic birds and dark blue seas, but at night their dreams are haunted by the image of a terrifying beast. As the boys' delicate sense of order fades, so their childish dreams are transformed into something more primitive, and their behaviouur starts to take on a murderous, savage significance.

I just couldn't get into Lord of the Flies at first, but I'm not sure if that was due to an actual slow beginning in the novel or my preconceptions caused by well-meaning family members. Regardless, at first I found it incredibly hard work. Not a lot happened, other than being introduced to the characters and getting profoundly irritated with their arrogance and superiority. Piggy is clearly the most sensible and logical of the lot, but he is ignored and ridiculed even when he's clearly trying to help. Understandably he gets frustrated, and so did I. Their behaviour irritated me so much I almost couldn't bear to read it any longer.

However, by about page 85 I was completely and irretrievably hooked. There's just something about the atmosphere William Golding creates that meant I wouldn't have put the book down if the house was on fire. The island itself has a very heady, muggy aura that seems to permeate through the pages until you swear you can feel the sun soaking through your skin. Other times, the terror and panic described on the pages is so real, and the difference between these two, although written by the same author, is immense. I've never, ever read an author with such a talent for atmosphere.

The first rhythm that they became used to was the slow swing from dawn to quick dusk. They accepted the pleasures of morning, the bright sun, the whelming sea and sweet air, as time when play was good and life so full that hope was not necessary and therefore forgotten.

The physical description of the island is also wonderful - it creates a picture so vivid that your imagination barely has to work. That said, there were a few times when I struggled to understand the layout of the island. I'm not sure if Golding uses topographical terms or whether I just couldn't follow it, but various ridges, canyons and slopes seemed to pop up without me really understanding what they were doing.

The characterisation is especially clever - throughout the book, Ralph is forced to grow in ways different to the other boys. As Chief, he struggles with having to make difficult decisions and constantly has to remind the other boys to do their chores - without them, their fragile civilisation will fall apart and Ralph knows that. The change in him by the end of the book is almost tangible, and the relationships between the boys undergoes a lot of different alterations. I can't wait to reread this book knowing what I do about the characters now.

In a moment the platform was full of arguing, gesticulating shadows. To Ralph, seated, this seemed the breaking-up of sanity. Fear, beasts, no general agreement that the fire was all-important: and when one tried to get the thing straight the argument sheered off, bringing up fresh, unpleasant matter.

It's quite a gruesome book. There's violence, disturbing dreams and animal slaughter and it doesn't skimp on the details either. Still, I really do think it was necessary in this case. Nothing annoys me more that unnecessary gore, but here the entire point of the novel is the boys' descent into savagery. The 'Lord of the Flies' himself is a gross concept, but a very clever one. Again, disturbing but necessary.

For me, the message wasn't that everybody is evil deep down, it was that everybody is selfish deep down. When thrust into a situation like this one, it's human nature to think only of your own survival. Everybody goes about that in a different way, which is obvious from the behaviour of both Ralph and Jack - one is being more selfish and obstinate than the other, but ultimately they're both doing what they think is right, regardless of how it may affect other people.    

I absolutely loved Lord of the Flies, which is great as I completely wasn't expecting to. The atmosphere, the tension, the terror... it doesn't surprise me that William Golding won the Nobel Prize for literature. I can't really see the movie or stage adaptation working, but this book has shot straight up to being one of my all-time favourites. 

This book was:

• One of the Top Ten Books I Read in 2012
• The Most Surprising Book of 2012
  
  
  
  Visit my Project Fill in the Gaps list - Lord of the Flies was my tenth book! 

Review: The Boy In The Striped Pyjamas by John Boyne

I got an urge to read this after being subjected to too many hours of the History Channel. It might as well be renamed to the Hitler Channel actually, as that's all they seem to know. I mean, I like Hitler as much as the next girl (err, that came out wrong...) but history had other characters too, you know? Anyway, that channel's on constantly in Hanna Manor (haha, say that out loud- I'm seriously calling my house that from now on) because Father Dearest has to have some form of noise constantly. Anyway, obviously the incessant discussion of Auschwitz must have seeped into my subconscious because I found myself reaching for The Boy In The Striped Pyjamas this morning.

The story of The Boy in the Striped Pyjamas is very difficult to describe. Usually we give some clues about the book on the cover, but in this case we think that would spoil the reading of the book. We think it is important that you start to read without knowing what it is about. If you do start to read this book, you will go on a journey with a nine-year-old boy called Bruno. (Though this isn't a book for nine-year-olds.) And sooner or later you will arrive with Bruno at a fence. We hope you never have to cross such a fence.

Guess there wasn't much point in posting that useless plot synopsis was there? Anyway, I'm sure most of you know what this is about. Nine-year-old Bruno and his family are forced to move out of Berlin because of his father's huge promotion. Their new house is nothing like the old one, mainly due to the huge barbed wire fence at the bottom of the garden. Bruno has no idea what's going on but resolves to find out who the people are in the striped pyjamas behind the fence.

Flicking through some of the other reviews on goodreads, it looks as though you either love this book or you hate it. The people that hated it can't seem to get past the tiny plot-holes and complain that it's unrealistic, but to me that's missing the point of the novel. It doesn't pretend to be a hard-hitting expose on Nazi concentration camps, it's just a moving story of a boy whose innocence is slowly being eroded.

The people that loved it each seemed to get a different message from it. This is the second time I read it, and I took from it that during the war, even good people like Bruno's father were persuaded to do things that would previously have been seen as wrong. During my first read-through however, I remember thinking more about the innocence of the children forced to be a part of the war. I think it's one of those books that you can read it over and over and each time get a new message.

Actually, that reminds me of the one gripe I had with The Boy In The Striped Pyjamas. Bruno is a little too young. He's meant to be nine years old, but lacks any of the understanding and intelligence that a normal boy of that age should have. I understand that his innocent is exagerrated to promote the point of the book, but why not just make him a younger child? He's just generally a very selfish and irritating boy.

Regardless of how old he should be, Mr. Boyne narrates very well in the voice of a nine-year-old. I especially liked his slow realisation that the servants were people too, with their own war-related troubles. It really is very clever - he speaks and thinks exactly as a small boy would, either about the war or his day-to-day life.

I love this book. You have to be willing to just go with it and accept certain things, but it really is a moving book. I don't really fancy the film as I can't see how they'd manage to show it all from Bruno's perspective, but the book will always be a favourite for me.