Showing posts with label books read in 2020. Show all posts
Showing posts with label books read in 2020. Show all posts

Monday, May 05, 2025

45. The Inheritance Games

 

45. The Inheritance Games. Jennifer Lynn Barnes. 2020. 386 pages. [Source: Library] [YA Fiction, YA Romance, YA Mystery]

First sentence: When I was a kid, my mom constantly invented games. The Quiet Game. The Who Can Make Their Cookie Last Longer? Game. A perennial favorite, The Marshmallow Game involved eating marshmallows while wearing puffy Goodwill Jackets indoors, to avoid turning on the heat. 

Premise/plot: Avery Grambs comes into....an inheritance in Jennifer Lynn Barnes' The Inheritance Games. She has inherited an extremely large estate seemingly from a total stranger. His family was not entirely neglected, each one receives a nominal amount--at least relatively speaking. But one of the conditions is that she is to live on the estate a full year before collecting on the inheritance so to speak...and she'll be living WITH those she's 'disinherited.' There are four Hawthorne brothers....and each one will have his own way for 'handling' Avery. Some more 'hands on' than others....since two have a flirty situation-ship going on. There's puzzles, games, and riddles, etc. And Avery's life is in danger several times at least.... Who can she trust with her life? Who can she trust with her heart?

My thoughts: I kept turning pages because I--for better or worse--got caught up in the love triangle. Grayson and Jameson are the two brothers involved. It also greatly helped that the chapters are so short. Each one is just three to four pages. The pacing is excellent. It always feels right to read "just one more chapter." 

 

© 2025 Becky Laney of Becky's Book Reviews

Tuesday, December 29, 2020

157. North and South


North and South. Elizabeth Gaskell. 1855. 521 pages. [Source: Bought]

First sentence: 'Edith!' said Margaret, gently, 'Edith!' But, as Margaret half suspected, Edith had fallen asleep.

Premise/plot: Sometimes I think the more I've read a book, the harder it is to summarize...well. Margaret Hale, our heroine, is uprooted from her Southern (rural) home when her father leaves the Church and moves the family north to the industrial town of Milton. It is a time of much adjustment--her father making the transition the smoothest of all perhaps; her mother having the roughest time of it. For Margaret it marks a 'wilderness' time of sorts--as she grows more self aware and begins to look and listen more closely to the world around her. She dares to think of others more and her own comfort less. It's definitely a growing time--with some awkwardness thrown in, because it's realistic. Margaret is far from a perfect, ideal woman. 

Mr. John Thornton, our hero, is drawn to Margaret despite their differences of opinion. He's much more forgiving of her pride and prejudice--her immaturity and innocence--than many others might be. This isn't so much a growing time for him. Not really. True, he has lessons in patience and actually LISTENING. But from the start he is considerate and compassionate. Though some might readily compare North and South to Pride and Prejudice and only Pride and Prejudice, I see some Gilbert Blythe in John Thornton. 

The novel is bittersweet. Margaret endures MUCH LOSS throughout the years chronicled in the novel. 

My thoughts: I love this one so much. It is one of my all-time favorite favorite favorite FAVORITE books. The movie and the book are different as night and day. Really in the movie, it's very much a re-do of Pride and Prejudice. Mr. John Thornton is just cut and pasted from Mr. Darcy. This just isn't true to the book at all. 

It is my opinion that Margaret is like MR. DARCY and ELIZABETH BENNET all at the same time. She is the one who has to GROW UP and mature. She is so very proud and extremely prejudiced. She is a bit insufferable at times!!! But her character arc is lovely to see. The Margaret we see at the end of the novel is not the Margaret we first meet. 

Quotes:

  • Whenever I have seen you lately, you have been carried away by a whirlwind of some other person's making.
  • But the cloud never comes in that quarter of the horizon from which we watch for it.
  • But the truth was, that Dixon, as do many others, liked to feel herself ruled by a powerful and decided nature.
  • 'I cannot bear it. I cannot bear to see the sufferings of others. I think I could go through my own with patience. Oh, is there no going back?'
  • But the future must be met, however stern and iron it be.
  • The question always is, has everything been done to make the sufferings of these exceptions as small as possible? Or, in the triumph of the crowded procession, have the helpless been trampled on, instead of being gently lifted aside out of the roadway of the conqueror, whom they have no power to accompany on his march?
  • 'Oh, mamma, that shows you never saw Mr. Thornton. He looks like a person who would enjoy battling with every adverse thing he could meet with--enemies, winds, or circumstances. The more it rains and blows, the more certain we are to have him.
  • 'Take care you don't get caught by a penniless girl, John.' 'I am not easily caught, mother, as I think you know. But I must not have Miss Hale spoken of in that way, which, you know, is offensive to me. I never was aware of any young lady trying to catch me yet, nor do I believe that any one has ever given themselves that useless trouble.'
  • Perhaps our Milton girls have too much spirit and good feeling to go angling after husbands; but this Miss Hale comes out of the aristocratic counties, where, if all tales be true, rich husbands are reckoned prizes.'
  • 'Papa, I do think Mr. Thornton a very remarkable man; but personally I don't like him at all.'
  • 'I believe, perhaps, more than yo' do o' what's to come. I read the book o' Revelations until I know it off by heart, and I never doubt when I'm waking, and in my senses, of all the glory I'm to come to.'
  • And looking back upon the year's accumulated heap of troubles, Margaret wondered how they had been borne. If she could have anticipated them, how she would have shrunk away and hid herself from the coming time!
  • And yet day by day had, of itself, and by itself, been very endurable--small, keen, bright little spots of positive enjoyment having come sparkling into the very middle of sorrows.
  • 'Loyalty and obedience to wisdom and justice are fine; but it is still finer to defy arbitrary power, unjustly and cruelly used-not on behalf of ourselves, but on behalf of others more helpless.'
  • 'I know we differ in our religious opinions; but don't you give me credit for having some, though not the same as yours?'
  • I never lived in a place before where there were two sets of people always running each other down.'
  • 'Nay, Bessy--think!' said Margaret. 'God does not willingly afflict. Don't dwell so much on the prophecies, but read the clearer parts of the Bible.' 'I dare say it would be wiser; but where would I hear such grand words of promise--hear tell o' anything so far different fro' this dreary world, and this town above a', as in Revelations? Many's the time I've repeated the verses in the seventh chapter to myself, just for the sound. It's as good as an organ, and as different from every day, too. No, I cannot give up Revelations. It gives me more comfort than any other book i' the Bible.'
  • She seems to have a great notion of giving herself airs; and I can't make out why. I could almost fancy she thinks herself too good for her company at times. And yet they're not rich, from all I can hear they never have been.' 'And she's not accomplished, mamma. She can't play.'
  • 'I cannot forgive her her pride,' said his mother; 'I will befriend her, if there is need, for your asking, John. I would befriend Jezebel herself if you asked me.
  • Only, he knew what she was doing--or not doing--better than he knew the movements of any one else in the room.
  • I shall put myself at her feet--I must. If it were but one chance in a thousand--or a million--I should do it.'
  • How dared he say that he would love her still, even though she shook him off with contempt?
  • Read me--not a sermon chapter, but a story chapter; they've pictures in them, which I see when my eyes are shut. Read about the New Heavens, and the New Earth; and m'appen I'll forget this.'
  • 'No one loves me,--no one cares for me, but you, mother.' He turned away and stood leaning his head against the mantel-piece, tears forcing themselves into his manly eyes.
  • 'Margaret!' said Mrs. Hale, rather querulously, 'you won't like anything Mr. Thornton does. I never saw anybody so prejudiced.'
  • Margaret the Churchwoman, her father the Dissenter, Higgins the Infidel, knelt down together. It did them no harm.
  • And it was no thought of her son, or of her living daughter Fanny, that stirred her heart at last; but a sudden remembrance, suggested by something in the arrangement of the room,--of a little daughter--dead in infancy--long years ago--that, like a sudden sunbeam, melted the icy crust, behind which there was a real tender woman.
  • Thinking has, many a time, made me sad, darling; but doing never did in all my life.
  • My theory is a sort of parody on the maxim of "Get money, my son, honestly if you can; but get money." My precept is, "Do something, my sister, do good if you can; but, at any rate, do something."'
  • 'Not excluding mischief,' said Margaret, smiling faintly through her tears. 'By no means. What I do exclude is the remorse afterwards.
  • Sorrows is more plentiful than dinners just now;
  • Oh papa! it's a hard world to live in!'
  • 'The exact truth!' said he. 'Very few people do speak the exact truth. I have given up hoping for it. Miss Hale, have you no explanation to give me? You must perceive what I cannot but think.'
  • 'I will walk slower for your own sake. I like you twenty times better than Hamlet.' 'On the principle that a living ass is better than a dead lion?' 'Perhaps so. I don't analyse my feelings.'
  • 'I begin to understand now what heaven must be--and, oh! the grandeur and repose of the words--"The same yesterday, to-day, and for ever." Everlasting! "From everlasting to everlasting, Thou art God."
  • I must not think so much of how circumstances affect me myself, but how they affect others, if I wish to have a right judgment, or a hopeful trustful heart.
  • Margaret herself had probably the worst temper of the three, for her quick perceptions, and over-lively imagination made her hasty, and her early isolation from sympathy had made her proud;
  • but she had an indescribable childlike sweetness of heart, which made her manners, even in her rarely wilful moods, irresistible of old; and now, chastened even by what the world called her good fortune, she charmed her reluctant aunt into acquiescence with her will.
  • 'How shall I ever tell Aunt Shaw?' she whispered, after some time of delicious silence. 'Let me speak to her.' 'Oh, no! I owe to her,--but what will she say?' 'I can guess. Her first exclamation will be, "That man!"' 'Hush!' said Margaret, 'or I shall try and show you your mother's indignant tones as she says, "That woman!"' 

© 2020 Becky Laney of Becky's Book Reviews

Monday, December 28, 2020

156. Tidings of Joy (Christmas in Evergreen #3)


Tidings of Joy (Christmas in Evergreen #3) Nancy Naigle. 2020. 280 pages. [Source: Review copy]

First sentence: Way up north, nestled in the heart of Vermont, there’s a little town called Evergreen. Some say it’s so far north that on a clear day you might be able to catch a glimpse of Santa’s workshop in the North Pole. Evergreen beckons tourists from all over. Many come just to see its famous magical snow globe that sits in a place of honor in the Chris Kringle Kitchen, owned by Joe and Carol Shaw. People come from far and wide to give that snow globe a good shake and make their wish, then drop a letter to Santa in the big red mailbox in the middle of town square. If they’re lucky, they might even catch a glimpse of the old red truck, decorated with garland and bows, delivering Christmas trees to the locals.

 Premise/plot: Katie, our New Yorker heroine, is on her way to Evergreen, Vermont, to relax. On the train she meets a native Evergreenian, Ben. There's a bit of a quick spark between the two--she's hoping that the week she's in town she'll bump into him again. But it isn't until her vacation becomes prolonged--she might be doing a story on the town's Christmas festivities--that the two really get the chance to connect. Ben was raised by his grandmother, Nan, the town's librarian. He is torn between wanting to stay in his hometown and help out at the library--he loves books--and looking for work in New York City. As the two countdown the days of Christmas--advent calendar style--could they be falling in love?

My thoughts: I enjoyed this one. I did. It is the third in the series. I'm not sure if there's a movie for each book in the series, or just a movie for the first one? But Evergreen, Vermont, is the setting for at least one Hallmark movie apparently. Readers get a chance to reconnect with a town full of characters. I'm imagining some of the characters in this one were first introduced in previous books. (There are multiple love stories hinted at.) It felt like a sweet, sentimental read.

© 2020 Becky Laney of Becky's Book Reviews

Thursday, December 24, 2020

155. A Christmas Carol Murder


A Christmas Carol Murder (A Dickens of a Crime #3) Heather Redmond. 2020. 320 pages. [Source: Review copy]

First sentence: They hadn’t found the body yet. Old Sal was surely dead. Feathers had caught on candles, igniting the blaze. Maybe a yipping dog had some part in the fiery disaster. The marchioness’s advanced age had surely contributed to the fatal misadventure.

Premise/plot: A Christmas Carol Murder is the third book in Heather Redmond's mystery series starring Charles Dickens as an amateur detective. This one opens in December 1835; Dickens is engaged to be married but not yet married. Soon after the novel opens, a baby is thrust into Dickens' arms--the woman is claiming that the babe is Charles' son. The mother (the woman's sister) is dead--or so it's thought--in a recent fire. Dickens feels sorry for the poor looking baby who'll surely starve without some intervention and care. So Timothy, the baby, is taken back to London and given to some of Dickens' friends. (Characters from earlier books, I'm presuming.) A few days later--or maybe just the next day--Dickens is out Christmas caroling with his friends--including his fiancee--when a DEAD BODY falls from an upstairs window. Thus the caroling gang meets Emmanuel Screws and household. Screws and the dead man--a Mr. Harley--were business partners. Catherine, Charles' fiancee, feels that Mr. Screws though a bit cranky--okay a LOT cranky--is no murderer. Can Dickens solve the murder before another occurs???

My thoughts: I knew this was part of a series, but, I didn't realize it was the third. (The previous books are A Tale of Two Murders and Grave Expectations.) I liked it. I did. I know that I'm missing out on some of the characterization by starting with the third book. But it was easy enough to follow *this* story and focus on this mystery. Dickens is 'Boz' at this point--he's writing and publishing sketches of London life. He has not begun writing (proper) novels just yet. He's also a parliamentary reporter/journalist in this one. I know little enough about this period in Dickens' life so I'm not sure how historically accurate the books may be. (I'm assuming/presuming that a lot of liberties are being taken even if real names are used. I'm relatively sure his wife, for example, didn't get special thrills from coming across dead bodies and working up murder cases.)

 

 

© 2020 Becky Laney of Becky's Book Reviews

Tuesday, December 22, 2020

154. Their Christmas Baby Contract


Their Christmas Baby Contract (Blackberry Bay #2) Shannon Stacey. 2020. 224 pages. [Source: Review copy]

First sentence: “Nice day for a hockey game.” Reyna Bishop would know that smooth, deep voice anywhere and, after tucking her debit card into her back pocket and accepting two steamed hot dogs from the vendor, she turned to face Brady Nash. 

Premise/plot: Reyna Bishop, our heroine, wants a BABY. Brady Nash, our hero, wants a baby. Can these two sometimes-friends agree to terms--a contract if you will--to have a baby together, no strings attached. She is not telling him that she wants them to be together-together, to get married, to live together--she's just wanting a BABY without having to go through all the relationship steps first. Brady agrees to whatever Reyna is offering. Hint he has been in love with her since first grade.

My thoughts: This was a cute enough holiday story. It was smutty, I won't lie. But it was almost self-contained smut. There was like one chapter where they are trying for the baby where all the smut happens, and anything outside of that is more off-screen and more suggestive than smutty-smut. It would definitely be more skippable if one prefers--like I do--a cleaner read. I liked the story being told from both his and her perspectives. I thought the characters were developed well enough considering this was a romance novel. 

© 2020 Becky Laney of Becky's Book Reviews

Monday, December 21, 2020

153. The Romance of A Christmas Carol


The Romance of a Christmas Card. Kate Douglas Wiggin. 1916. 116 pages. [Source: Bought]

First sentence: It was Christmas Eve and a Saturday night when Mrs. Larrabee, the Beulah minister's wife, opened the door of the study where her husband was deep in the revision of his next day's sermon, and thrust in her comely head framed in a knitted rigolette.

Premise/plot: A minister's wife, Reba Larrabee, pens two Christmas cards; the illustrations she's drawn are inspired by a dear friend--and feature her cottage/home. The verses accompanying the pictures--well, one of them at least--is super sentimental and inspirational. (The other is more commercial and is more being pushed on her than true to her). The theme of this one is prodigal 'sons' returning home. 

My thoughts: I found the story a bit confusing at times. I'm not sure if the fault is in the writing--so many characters being introduced in tricky ways--or my own for possibly being distracted while reading. But the theme is that of 'lost' or 'wayward' souls finding their way back home to friends and family. There are two men--David and Dick--who make their way home to this community of Beulah during the Christmas season as a result of these TWO different cards. Dick is the minister's son; David is the brother of Letty, the woman featured in the card. He's left behind TWO children that have been cared for by their aunt since their birth.

© 2020 Becky Laney of Becky's Book Reviews

Saturday, December 19, 2020

152. The Birds' Christmas Carol


The Birds' Christmas Carol. Kate Douglas Wiggin. 1886. 93 pages. [Source: Bought]

First sentence: It was very early Christmas morning, and in the stillness of the dawn, with the soft snow falling on the housetops, a little child was born in the Bird household.

Premise/plot: Our heroine, Carol Bird (so named because she was born on Christmas Day), is dying and has never been perfectly well. This Christmas--as her family very well knows--could be her very last birthday/Christmas. How will the family celebrate? How they live life every day--with kindness, joy, and love in their hearts. Carol lives--though bedridden--by loving others and sharing with others what she has. For example, she shares her books with the local hospital--ten at a time--and she corresponds with others. Though life has "given her lemons" if you will she has made enough lemonade for one and all. 

Quotes: 

  • Love could do nothing; and when we have said that we have said all, for it is stronger than anything else in the whole wide world.
  • On one side of the room was a bookcase filled with hundreds—yes, I mean it—with hundreds and hundreds of books; books with gay-colored pictures, books without; books with black and white outline-sketches, books with none at all; books with verses, books with stories, books that made children laugh, and some that made them cry; books with words of one syllable for tiny boys and girls, and books with words of fearful length to puzzle wise ones. This was Carol's "Circulating Library." Every Saturday she chose ten books, jotting their names down in a little diary; into these she slipped cards that said: "Please keep this book two weeks and read it. With love, Carol Bird." Then Mrs. Bird stepped into her carriage, and took the ten books to the Childrens' Hospital, and brought home ten others that she had left there the fortnight before. This was a source of great happiness; for some of the Hospital children that were old enough to print or write, and were strong enough to do it, wrote Carol cunning little letters about the books, and she answered them, and they grew to be friends.
  • (It is very funny, but you do not always have to see people to love them. Just think about it, and see if it isn't so.)

My thoughts: I didn't appreciate this one at all--not even a little bit--as a kid. I don't know WHY my mom tried so hard to get me to read it every year. I still think it's not really a "children's book." Unless you just happen to know KIDS  who love books where the MAIN CHARACTER DIES. I don't know if that's better or worse than a story where the family dog dies, but, it's not necessarily uplifting unless you're an extraordinary reader--wise beyond one's years perhaps. 

I do appreciate it more now as an adult. I can at the very least appreciate the writing and some of the universal truths. For example, I love, love, love the YOU DO NOT ALWAYS HAVE TO SEE PEOPLE TO LOVE THEM. I have found this to be very true with folks I've only "met" online and have taken up a friendship with!  

This one isn't as cheery as Pollyanna--I still much prefer Pollyanna--but Carol does live out faith in an admirable way. One could argue that the book itself represents everything that's wrong with early children's literature--be good so you can die young and be assured of where you will spend salvation--but I won't be making that argument. Yes, Carol is a GOOD heroine who dies blessed in the Lord--with a smile upon her face--and yes, the fact that she is now happily with her Lord is stressed. But if that alone was the "point" of the book--it wasn't nearly preachy enough. That is to clarify it could have been more preachy and more didactic and more forced. The text was sweet--without question--but not hiding a dose of  bitter medicine that you had to swallow. 

© 2020 Becky Laney of Becky's Book Reviews

Friday, December 18, 2020

151. A Christmas Carol


A Christmas Carol. Charles Dickens. 1843. 96 pages. [Source: Bought]

First sentence: MARLEY WAS DEAD, to begin with. There is no doubt whatever about that.

Premise/plot:  Who isn't familiar with the story of Scrooge?! Still, I suppose *something* must be said. Scrooge HATES Christmas. Hate is too soft a word really for the rage he feels when he thinks about the holiday. For Scrooge hating comes as naturally as breathing. He loves no one or no thing--nothing except money and making a profit. But what is driving his obsession with money? what is driving him to live as he does--to make the choices he does? Could there be a secret or two in his past that holds the answers to these questions? Can Scrooge be saved from his own worst enemy--himself?

If Scrooge is to be saved--can he be saved?!--it will take some supernatural intervention. For Scrooge won't be saving himself. For one thing, Scrooge does not see his own need to be saved. Saved from what exactly?!?! Saved from success?! As far as Scrooge is concerned, everything in his life is just as it should be. He in need of help? he in need of saving? Don't be ridiculous.

He will be visited by four ghosts--the first ghost being Marley, his dead business partner of old. The other three ghosts being Christmas spirits past, present, and future. Can these spirits open Scrooge's eyes? Will he start to see--will he start to judge--life differently?

My thoughts: A Christmas Carol is a familiar story--much like the gospels. Is it too familiar a story to pack a punch or two? It doesn't have to be. The truth is--like it or not--we are more like Scrooge than we want to admit. We may not hate Christmas. We may not be super-obsessed with money. We may even consider ourselves good, charitable people. But the truth is that we are all sinners; perhaps I should amend that to we are sinners one and all. At best we can say our pet sins differ from his. All of us need a ghostly encounter to reconcile us with ourselves, the world, and God. I would point out, however, that we need a Holy Ghost encounter, and not one from Marley and the three ghosts of Christmas past, present, and future.

In the first stave, readers are introduced to Scrooge's world. We see him at work and at home. We are witnesses to Scrooge's interactions. Dickens does plenty of telling, but he also does plenty of showing. At the close of Christmas Eve, Scrooge is visited by the ghost of his business partner, Marley. Scrooge is warned of his future fate and promised three spiritual visitors. In the second stave, Scrooge is visited by the first spirit, that of Christmas past. In the third stave, Scrooge is visited by the second spirit, that of Christmas present. In the fourth stave, Scrooge is visited by the third spirit, that of Christmas future. In the fifth stave, it is Christmas morning. Readers are reintroduced to Scrooge; once again, we see him going about his business. Has his outlook on life changed? Is Scrooge a new man?

When I first read A Christmas Carol, I was less than impressed with this "Christ-less" Christmas story. I still loved the Muppet Christmas Carol; I still loved the idea of loving this one. But I found grace to be missing; here was Scrooge a brand new man with a brand new outlook, but no profession or confession of belief or trust in the one true God. The message was not Jesus paid it all; all to him I owe. The emphasis was not that Christ was sufficient--that Scrooge's only hope in life or death was Christ alone. The emphasis seemed to be on outward change, on works. On reflection this time around, I see A Christmas Carol more like the letter of James than any of the four gospels. In spiritual terms, what we're dealing with is not justification--how to be made right with God, how to be saved--but sanctification--how to live life rightly.

Here are a few scriptures to keep in mind as you read A Christmas Carol:


 My tip for reading A Christmas Carol: try to read it as if for the first time.

 Favorite quotes:

  • Old Marley was as dead as a door-nail. Mind! I don’t mean to say that I know, of my own knowledge, what there is particularly dead about a door-nail. I might have been inclined, myself, to regard a coffin-nail as the deadest piece of ironmongery in the trade. But the wisdom of our ancestors is in the simile; and my unhallowed hands shall not disturb it, or the Country’s done for.
  • There is no doubt that Marley was dead. This must be distinctly understood, or nothing wonderful can come of the story I am going to relate. If we were not perfectly convinced that Hamlet’s father died before the play began, there would be nothing more remarkable in his taking a stroll at night, in an easterly wind, upon his own ramparts, than there would be in any other middle-aged gentleman rashly turning out after dark in a breezy spot—say Saint Paul’s Churchyard for instance—literally to astonish his son’s weak mind.
  • Oh! but he was a tight-fisted hand at the grindstone, Scrooge! a squeezing, wrenching, grasping, scraping, clutching, covetous old sinner! Hard and sharp as flint, from which no steel had ever struck out generous fire, secret, and self-contained, and solitary as an oyster.
  • He carried his own low temperature always about with him; he iced his office in the dog-days; and didn’t thaw it one degree at Christmas.
  • No wind that blew was bitterer than he, no falling snow was more intent upon its purpose, no pelting rain less open to entreaty. Foul weather didn’t know where to have him. The heaviest rain, and snow, and hail, and sleet, could boast of the advantage over him in only one respect. They often “came down” handsomely, and Scrooge never did.
  • Even the blind men’s dogs appeared to know him; and, when they saw him coming on, would tug their owners into doorways, and up courts, and then would wag their tails as though they said, “No eye at all is better than an evil eye, dark master!”
  • Once upon a time—of all the good days in the year, on Christmas Eve—old Scrooge sat busy in his counting-house.
  • Scrooge had a very small fire, but the clerk’s fire was so very much smaller that it looked like one coal. But he couldn’t replenish it, for Scrooge kept the coal-box in his own room; and so surely as the clerk came in with the shovel, the master predicted that it would be necessary for them to part.
  • “I do,” said Scrooge. “Merry Christmas! What right have you to be merry? What reason have you to be merry? You’re poor enough.” “Come, then,” returned the nephew gaily. “What right have you to be dismal? What reason have you to be morose? You’re rich enough.”
  • “Nephew!” returned the uncle sternly, “keep Christmas in your own way, and let me keep it in mine.” “Keep it!” repeated Scrooge’s nephew. “But you don’t keep it.” “Let me leave it alone, then,” said Scrooge. “Much good may it do you! Much good it has ever done you!”
  • “It’s enough for a man to understand his own business, and not to interfere with other people’s. Mine occupies me constantly. Good afternoon, gentlemen!”
  • Darkness is cheap, and Scrooge liked it.
  • “At this time of the rolling year,” the specter said, “I suffer most. Why did I walk through crowds of fellow-beings with my eyes turned down, and never raise them to that blessed Star which led the Wise Men to a poor abode? Were there no poor homes to which its light would have conducted me?”
  • The more he thought, the more perplexed he was; and the more he endeavored not to think, the more he thought.
  • The curtains of his bed were drawn aside, I tell you, by a hand. Not the curtains at his feet, nor the curtains at his back, but those to which his face was addressed. The curtains of his bed were drawn aside; and Scrooge, starting up into a half-recumbent attitude, found himself face to face with the unearthly visitor who drew them: as close to it as I am now to you, and I am standing in the spirit at your elbow.
  • “I am the Ghost of Christmas Past.” “Long Past?” inquired Scrooge, observant of its dwarfish stature. “No. Your past.”
  • “The school is not quite deserted,” said the Ghost. “A solitary child, neglected by his friends, is left there still.” Scrooge said he knew it. And he sobbed.
  • Now, being prepared for almost anything, he was not by any means prepared for nothing;
  • it is always the person not in the predicament who knows what ought to have been done in it, and would unquestionably have done it too.
  • “Forgive me if I am wrong. It has been done in your name, or at least in that of your family,” said Scrooge. “There are some upon this earth of yours,” returned the Spirit, “who claim to know us, and who do their deeds of passion, pride, ill will, hatred, envy, bigotry, and selfishness in our name, who are as strange to us, and all our kith and kin, as if they had never lived. Remember that, and charge their doings on themselves, not us.”
  • It is a fair, even-handed, noble adjustment of things, that, while there is infection in disease and sorrow, there is nothing in the world so irresistibly contagious as laughter and good humor.
  • “Ghost of the Future!” he exclaimed. “I fear you more than any specter I have seen. But as I know your purpose is to do me good, and as I hope to live to be another man from what I was, I am prepared to bear you company, and do it with a thankful heart. Will you not speak to me?”
  • “I will honor Christmas in my heart, and try to keep it all the year. I will live in the Past, Present, and the Future.
  • YES! AND THE bedpost was his own. The bed was his own, the room was his own. Best and happiest of all, the Time before him was his own, to make amends in! “I will live in the Past, the Present, and the Future!” Scrooge repeated, as he scrambled out of bed. “The Spirits of all Three shall strive within me. O Jacob Marley! Heaven and the Christmas-time be praised for this! I say it on my knees, old Jacob, on my knees!”
  • Scrooge was better than his word. He did it all, and infinitely more; and to Tiny Tim, who did NOT die, he was a second father. He became as good a friend, as good a master, and as good a man as the good old City knew, or any other good old city, town, or borough in the good old world. 
  • May that be truly said of us, and all of us! And so, as Tiny Tim observed, God bless Us, Every One! THE END                       

 

© 2020 Becky Laney of Becky's Book Reviews

Thursday, December 10, 2020

150. Doomsday Book


Doomsday Book. Connie Willis. 1992. Random House. 592 pages.  [Source: Book I Bought]

First sentence: Mr. Dunworthy opened the door to the laboratory and his spectacles promptly steamed up.
"Am I too late?" he said, yanking them off and squinting at Mary.
"Shut the door," she said. "I can't hear you over the sound of those ghastly carols."
Dunworthy closed the door, but it didn't completely shut out the sound of "O Come, All Ye Faithful" wafting in from the quad. "Am I too late?" he said again.   

 Premise/plot: In a world where historians learn their subject firsthand by time travel, Kivrin, our heroine--one of them--is sent to the middle ages to learn just "how exaggerated" (according to her professor/advisor Gilchrist) the accounts of the Black Death were. That's spinning it a bit. Kivrin is there to LEARN and OBSERVE and ABSORB. Technically, she's to be sent to 1320--the Advent/Christmas/Epiphany season in OXFORD. But that's if all goes according to plan and there are no mix-ups or mistakes. Mr. Dunworthy, our hero, has a bad feeling that those in charge of the project are incapable and incompetent and imbeciles. The book opens moments before she is sent back in time....it isn't long before Dunworthy has reason to panic...

But this book isn't about one man's panic--his helicopter teaching, if you will. It is about TWO pandemics. One is set in the present of 2054. This pandemic requires a quarantine, contact tracing, mask-wearing, and safety protocols. With it comes toilet paper shortages--along with soap! The present story line is full of mystery and action. The other is set in the past--the Black Death. There is a theme of helplessness in both.

My thoughts: Doomsday Book by Connie Willis is one of my favorite, favorite, favorite, favorite, favorite books. I believe this is my fifth time to read it and review it for Becky's Book Reviews. The last time I read it, I believe, was 2015

Reading Doomsday Book in 2020 was like reading it with FRESH EYES and in a NEW LIGHT. I noticed hundreds of things that I never really absorbed or processed before. Much of the present story line is set IN THE HOSPITAL and follows doctors and nurses as they care for patients trying to make sense of a virus they know little about. They are TRYING to save lives--but wrestling with the unknown. They are protecting themselves to the best of their ability--wearing all the gowns, masks, gloves, shields, etc.--but they themselves are getting sick and even dying while trying to save lives. 

The book also has a bit to say about the mob mentality--those who are critical of quarantines, of wearing masks; those whose first reaction is to throw science and common sense out of the window making prejudicial and unfounded claims, spreading fear and propaganda. 

The book also has a bit to say about POLITICS. No not politics in terms of political parties, governments, and candidates. But PERSONAL and PROFESSIONAL "politics." Readers see the belittling and childish behavior of the spats between Dunworthy and Gilchrist. No doubt Gilchrist is the bigger fool--perhaps the biggest fool in the book--but these two professors are from "dueling" schools. Gilchrist is so concerned with maintaining authority and control and looking good that he has no concern for others, especially his enemies. 

There is talk between characters of a PANDEMIC twenty or so years before this one opens. 

I have always deeply appreciated the novel in terms of RELATIONSHIPS. This still holds true. I love the characters and the development of relationships throughout both story lines. I think I love the character of Colin the best. Colin's relationship with Mr. Dunworthy--a stranger at the start, but family by the end--is just so endearing and PERFECT. I think the characters are just so authentically and believably HUMAN. These characters live and breathe. 

It's an emotional ride from start to finish. 

It isn't without humor. There's quite a bit considering the subject matter. Some of the humor comes at the expense of other characters. I don't know if the author meant it as a running gag--but I thought the MYSTERY of where Basingame was a running gag.

It asks some deep questions without ever once providing an answer. I am not saying that is a good thing or a bad thing--just an observation of mine. 

Ringing bells recur throughout the book--in both time lines. I am sure there is some significance to having so many ringing bells. I haven't puzzled out exactly what. But if I were still in school and wanting to write a paper on it, I'm sure I could brainstorm and do some research.

Quotes:

  • “I said, mufflers are always an appropriate Christmas gift for boys, don’t you think?” He looked at the muffler she was holding up for his inspection. It was of dark gray plaid wool. He would not have been caught dead in it when he was a boy, and that had been fifty years ago.  “This century doesn’t have the Black Death.” “It had the Pandemic, which killed sixty-five million people. And the Black Death wasn’t in England in 1320,” “It didn’t reach there till 1348.” She put her mug down on the table, and the figurine of Mary fell over. “But even if it had, Kivrin couldn’t get it. I immunized her against bubonic plague.” Besides, she would never get the plague because we’re both worrying over it. None of the things one frets about ever happen. Something one’s never thought of does.” 
  • For a time I worried about not knowing what to worry about, and then I didn’t worry at all. Fretting doesn’t work properly unless one can visualize disasters in all their particulars, including the weather and the time of day. 
  • Gilchrist was saying. “Attitudes toward death in the 1300s differed greatly from ours. Death was a common and accepted part of life, and the contemps were incapable of feeling loss or grief.” 
  • The original regulations had required it in every case of “unidentified disease or suspicion of contagion,” but those had been passed in the first hysteria after the Pandemic, and they had been amended and watered down every few years since then till Dunworthy had no idea what they were now. 
  • “Explain! Perhaps you’d like to explain it to me, too. I’m not used to having my civil liberties taken away like this. In America, nobody would dream of telling you where you can or can’t go.” And over thirty million Americans died during the Pandemic as a result of that sort of thinking, he thought. 
  • “No, sir, I’m just on my way. What should I do about supplies, sir? We’ve adequate stores of soap, but we’re very low on lavatory paper.” 
  • “Should I ration the lavatory paper, do you think, sir,” Finch said, “or put up notices asking everyone to conserve?” “I’ve taken steps to remedy the lavatory paper situation. I’ve put up notices with the motto: Waste Leads to Want.”
  • “Tell her we haven’t any room. Tell her the dormitories are being sterilized.”  “I did, sir, but she said in that case she would room with William. I don’t like to do that to him, sir.” “No,” Dunworthy said. “There are some things one shouldn’t have to endure, even in an epidemic. Have you told William his mother’s coming?”  The medical staff are always the first exposed. If they come down with it, or the supply of antimicrobials gives out, this century could be the one that’s a ten.
  • “Are they still holding the Christmas Eve service?” Dunworthy said. “I shouldn’t think anyone would come under the circumstances.” “He said the Interchurch Committee had voted to hold it regardless,” Finch said...The priest from Holy Re-Formed is going to read from the Mass in Time of Pestilence.” “Ah,” Dunworthy said. “That should help in keeping up morale.”
  • “Here’s your Scripture. It’s from the King James this year. The Church of the Millennium insisted on it, but at least it’s not the People’s Common like last year.
  • The King James may be archaic, but at least it’s not criminal.”
  • “What are they all doing here?” Dunworthy said. “Don’t they realize we’re in the midst of an epidemic?” “It’s always this way,” the vicar said. “I remember the beginning of the Pandemic.
  • “One sees the same sort of thing during wartime. They come for the drama of the thing.” “And spread the infection twice as fast, I should think,” Dunworthy said. “Hasn’t anyone told them the virus is contagious?” “I intend to,” the vicar said. “
  • The King James is archaic, he thought. And where Kivrin is, it hasn’t been written yet. 
  • On top was an NHS directive headed: “Early Symptoms of Influenza. 1.) Disorientation. 2.) Headache. 3.) Muscle Aches. Avoid contracting it. Wear your NHS regulation face mask at all times.” “Face mask?” Dunworthy asked.“The NHS delivered them this morning,” Finch said. “I don’t know how we’re going to manage the washing up. We’re nearly out of soap.”
  • “Isn’t there some sort of volunteer work she could do at Infirmary or something?” Finch asked. “To keep her out of college?” “We can hardly inflict her on poor helpless flu victims. It might kill them. What about asking the vicar? He was looking for volunteers to run errands.” “Have a heart, Mr. Dunworthy. I’m working for the vicar.”  “The priest from Holy Re-Formed then,” Dunworthy said. “He’s fond of reciting the Mass in Time of Pestilence for morale. They should get along swimmingly.”
  • A man in a sandwich board was standing outside the door in the rain. The sandwich board said, “The doom we feared is upon us,” which seemed oddly fitting. 
  • The carillon was massacring “In the Bleak Midwinter,” which also seemed fitting, and the streets were still deserted, but as they turned down the Broad, a familiar figure hurried toward them, hunched against the rain. 
  • “That paper the NHS sent around said disorientation, fever, and headache, but that isn’t any good. The bells always give us headaches.”  One of them grabbed Dunworthy’s arm. “The government’s got no right to keep you here against your will,” he said, thrusting his striped face up to Dunworthy’s face mask.
  • And He shall smite thee with Mrs. Gaddson, he thought, and she shall read you Scriptures to keep your morale up. 
  • Heating systems and the EC and time travel. During the Pandemic it had been the American germ warfare program and air conditioning. Back in the Middle Ages they had blamed Satan and the appearance of comets for their epidemics.
  • Doubtless when the fact that the virus had originated in South Carolina was revealed, the Confederacy, or southern fried chicken, would be blamed. 
  • Her SPG’s looked like she’d slept in them, and her mask dangled from her neck by one tie. 
  • Finch, helping assemble the cots and make beds, announced that they were nearly out of clean linens, face masks, and lavatory paper. 
  • “I’ve posted notices asking that everyone conserve lavatory paper, but it’s done no good at all. The Americans are particularly wasteful.” 
  • “They’re saying it’s some sort of biological weapon,” Colin said. “They’re saying it escaped from a laboratory.” 
 

 © 2020 Becky Laney of Becky's Book Reviews

Wednesday, December 09, 2020

149. Fire Watch


Fire Watch. Connie Willis. 1982. 26 pages. [Source: Online]

Fire Watch was first published in a magazine-- Isaac Asimov's Science Fiction Magazine, Feb 1982, and is reprinted in the collection Fire Watch (first published by St Martin's Press in 1985), and won the 1982 Nebula and 1983 Hugo awards for best novelette. It can be read online.

My review of Fire Watch--the short story collection--was posted in 2012

First sentence: September 20 - Of course the first thing I looked for was the fire watch stone. And of course it wasn't there yet. It wasn't dedicated until 1951, accompanying speech by the Very Reverend Dean Walter Matthews, and this is only 1940. I knew that. I went to see the fire watch stone only yesterday, with some kind of misplaced notion that seeing the scene of the crime would somehow help. It didn't.

Premise/plot: Mr. Bartholomew, a student historian, is sent to St. Paul's to serve in the Fire Watch at St. Paul's in 1940. His practicum was supposed to have him traveling with St. Paul--not visiting St. Paul's during the Blitz. His roommate, Kivrin, has been there, done that. Her practicum didn't go as planned either. But she urges him to give Dunworthy a chance--not to hate his guts just because of a mix up. 

Initially he struggles A LOT with his time travel assignment. It is hard work--harder when you are out of your element and unprepared for the culture shock and how to go about fitting in with the locals. But soon he finds himself CARING deeply and passionately about St. Paul's--determined to protect the cathedral from going up in flames because of bombs--and the people he's meeting. The past becomes all too real for him--way more than just statistics, numbers, facts. 

My thoughts: I believe this technically is the first work within Willis' futuristic world where historians LEARN the past first hand--up close and oh-so-personal--via time travel. The character of Kivrin is revisited in 1992's Doomsday Book. Her story may occur before this novella. But the world has developed-grown-shifted a bit when her story is revisited. Kivrin's character isn't developed all that deeply in Fire Watch. Mr. Dunworthy has evolved as well. 

The page numbers for the quote below come from the paperback edition I reviewed previously. As I mentioned I read it this time online. 

There are no guidelines for historians, and no restrictions either. I could tell everyone I'm from the future if I thought they would believe me. I could murder Hitler if I could get to Germany. Or could I? Time paradox talk abounds in the history department, and the graduate students back from their practica don't say a word one way or the other. Is there a tough, immutable past? Or is there a new past every day and do we, the historians, make it? And what are the consequences of what we do, if there are consequences? And how do we dare do anything without knowing them? Must we interfere boldly, hoping we do not bring about all our downfalls? Or must we do nothing at all, not interfere, stand by and watch St. Paul's burn to the ground if need be so that we don't change the future? All those are fine questions for a late-night study session. They do not matter here. I could no more let St. Paul's burn down than I could kill Hitler. No, that is not true. I found that out yesterday in the Whispering Gallery. I could kill Hitler if I caught him setting fire to St. Paul's. (12-13) 

I am looking forward to rereading all the time travel adventures. I am over halfway through a reread of The Doomsday Book.

© 2020 Becky Laney of Becky's Book Reviews

Tuesday, December 01, 2020

148. David Copperfield


David Copperfield. Charles Dickens. 1850. 882 pages. [Source: Bought]

First sentence: I AM BORN Whether I shall turn out to be the hero of my own life, or whether that station will be held by anybody else, these pages must show. To begin my life with the beginning of my life, I record that I was born (as I have been informed and believe) on a Friday, at twelve o’clock at night.

Premise/plot: David Copperfield is a fictional autobiography of a novelist, David Copperfield. That's the most succinct way to describe the novel. The novel itself is a bit lengthy and not at all concise. It tells of the many adventures and misadventures of his life from birth through old age. And there are plenty of close calls--well, not life-or-death close calls--but moments where he is surely outsmarted, outwitted, fooled, tricked, manipulated. In other words, the character is a bit of a dunce when it comes to having common sense. David's choices don't always make the best sense to readers--or in some cases any sense. But despite his limitations David is a charming enough hero. 

Relationships are key to the novel. It isn't so much that many, many things happen--in an action-packed way--but relationships develop, grow, change, deteriorate or strengthen. If you don't care about David's relationships with others--then you might find yourself bored waiting for "something exciting" to happen. Now a few things DO happen. Namely concerning a few characters--Emily and her uncle; Uriah Heep and his schemes; Agnes' predicament with her father, to name a few.

My thoughts: I don't know that I fully appreciated David Copperfield the first time I read it. I haven't reread my review--yet--but I don't remember really loving it. I definitely loved it this second time. Not because I love, love, love the character of David Copperfield. But because I really came to care about a handful of the people he knows, loves, considers family. In many ways, the novel is about a person CHOOSING his family--and only one is truly his biologically speaking.

Dickens' characters are something. Even the ones I hated--loathed--felt fleshed out and well written. And there are some despicable characters in David Copperfield. (Namely Edward Murdstone, James Steerforth, Uriah Heep, etc.) His characters are memorable.

One thing continues to puzzle me: how David Copperfield could be so UTTERLY blind, stupid, stuck on James Steerforth. I mean there are WARNING SIGNS everywhere that this guy is bad news. That for better or worse he's not exactly honorable and worthy of trust and loyalty. But David seems so head over heels besotted with being bestie best best friends with him that he makes horribly bad choices over and over again just to stay near and stay close. When his villainy is revealed, David's response is WEIRD and WRONG: "What is natural in me, is natural in many other men, I infer, and so I am not afraid to write that I never had loved Steerforth better than when the ties that bound me to him were broken. In the keen distress of the discovery of his unworthiness, I thought more of all that was brilliant in him, I softened more towards all that was good in him, I believed that if I had been brought face to face with him, I could not have uttered one reproach. I should have loved him so well still—though he fascinated me no longer—I should have held in so much tenderness the memory of my affection for him, that I think I should have been as weak as a spirit-wounded child, in all but the entertainment of a thought that we could ever be re-united. What his remembrances of me were, I have never known—they were light enough, perhaps, and easily dismissed—but mine of him were as the remembrances of a cherished friend, who was dead."

 Quotes:

  • We made no more provision for growing older, than we did for growing younger.
  • “Barkis is willin’. That’s the message,” I readily undertook its transmission.
  • “But fashions are like human beings. They come in, nobody knows when, why, or how; and they go out, nobody knows when, why, or how. Everything is like life, in my opinion, if you look at it in that point of view.”
  • What is before you, is a fight with the world; and the sooner you begin it, the better.
  • He solemnly conjured me, I remember, to take warning by his fate; and to observe that if a man had twenty pounds a-year for his income, and spent nineteen pounds nineteen shillings and sixpence, he would be happy, but that if he spent twenty pounds one he would be miserable.
  • “I say,” returned Mr. Micawber, quite forgetting himself, and smiling again, “the miserable wretch you behold. My advice is, never do to-morrow what you can do to-day. Procrastination is the thief of time. Collar him!”
  •  Her first proceeding there was to unlock a tall press, bring out several bottles, and pour some of the contents of each into my mouth. I think they must have been taken out at random, for I am sure I tasted aniseed water, anchovy sauce, and salad dressing.
  • “Never,” said my aunt, “be mean in anything; never be false; never be cruel. Avoid those three vices, Trot, and I can always be hopeful of you.”
  • “How very nice!” exclaimed Miss Dartle. “What a comfort! Really conscientious? Then he’s not—but of course he can’t be, if he’s really conscientious. Well, I shall be quite happy in my opinion of him, from this time. You can’t think how it elevates him in my opinion, to know for certain that he’s really conscientious!”
  • “Really!” said Miss Dartle. “Well, I don’t know, now, when I have been better pleased than to hear that. It’s so consoling! It’s such a delight to know that, when they suffer, they don’t feel! Sometimes I have been quite uneasy for that sort of people; but now I shall just dismiss the idea of them, altogether. Live and learn. I had my doubts, I confess, but now they’re cleared up. I didn’t know, and now I do know, and that shows the advantage of asking—don’t it?”
  • “It’s in vain, Trot, to recall the past, unless it works some influence upon the present.
  • All was over in a moment. I had fulfilled my destiny. I was a captive and a slave. I loved Dora Spenlow to distraction! I was swallowed up in an abyss of love in an instant.
  •  I don’t remember who was there, except Dora. I have not the least idea what we had for dinner, besides Dora. My impression is, that I dined off Dora, entirely, and sent away half-a-dozen plates untouched.
  •  ‘My unchanged love is with my darling child, and I forgive her!’”
  • It was the first time it had ever occurred to me, that this detestable cant of false humility might have originated out of the Heep family. I had seen the harvest, but had never thought of the seed.
  • “I didn’t marry to be reasoned with. If you meant to reason with such a poor little thing as I am, you ought to have told me so, you cruel boy!”
  • As to the washerwoman pawning the clothes, and coming in a state of penitent intoxication to apologise, I suppose that might have happened several times to anybody.
  •  “Gentlemen,” returned Mr. Micawber, “do with me as you will! I am a straw upon the surface of the deep, and am tossed in all directions by the elephants—I beg your pardon; I should have said the elements.”
  • What is the matter, gentlemen? What is not the matter? Villainy is the matter; baseness is the matter; deception, fraud, conspiracy, are the matter; and the name of the whole atrocious mass is—HEEP!” “I’ll put my hand in no man’s hand,” said Mr. Micawber, gasping, puffing, and sobbing, to that degree that he was like a man fighting with cold water, “until I have—blown to fragments—the—a—detestable—serpent—HEEP!  I’ll partake of no one’s hospitality, until I have—a—moved Mount Vesuvius—to eruption—on—a—the abandoned rascal—HEEP!  Refreshment—a—underneath this roof—particularly punch—would—a—choke me—unless—I had—previously—choked the eyes—out of the head—a—of—interminable cheat, and liar—HEEP! I—a—I’ll know nobody—and—a—say nothing—and—a—live nowhere—until I have crushed—to—a—undiscoverable atoms—the—transcendent and immortal hypocrite and perjurer—HEEP!”
  • He is such an incarnate hypocrite, that whatever object he pursues, he must pursue crookedly.
  • Mr. Murdstone delivers public addresses sometimes, and it is said,—in short, sir, it is said by Mrs. Chillip,—that the darker tyrant he has lately been, the more ferocious is his doctrine.” “Mrs. Chillip does go so far as to say,” pursued the meekest of little men, much encouraged, “that what such people miscall their religion, is a vent for their bad-humours and arrogance. And do you know I must say, sir,” “that I don’t find authority for Mr. and Miss Murdstone in the New Testament?” “I never found it either,” said I.
  • Whatever betides, whatever new ties you may form, whatever changes may come between us, I shall always look to you, and love you, as I do now, and have always done. You will always be my solace and resource, as you have always been. Until I die, my dearest sister, I shall see you always before me, pointing upward!”

© 2020 Becky Laney of Becky's Book Reviews