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Hurston, Zora Neale. 1937. Their Eyes Were Watching God.

If ever a book is going to grab you at 'hello', let it be Their Eyes Were Watching God by Zora Neale Hurston.

Ships at a distance have every man’s wish on board. For some they come in with the tide. For others they sail forever on the horizon, never out of sight, never landing until the Watcher turns his eyes away in resignation, his dreams mocked to death by Time. That is the life of men.

Now women forget all those things they don’t want to remember, and remember everything they don’t want to forget. The dream is the truth. Then they act and do things accordingly. (1)

This book, which I just recently finished reading for my online reading group, has to be one of my favorite, favorite, favorite, favorite books of all time. (Yes, it's right up there along with Ender's Game by Orson Scott Card and Frankenstein by Mary Shelley.) I first "discovered" Zora Neale Hurston by force. She was required reading in a short story course I was taking in the Fall of 1997. When I signed up for the course, I was not an English major. I was just looking to fulfill the core requirements. (The very fact that I was in that class was an accident because of schedule conflicts and classes having to be changed, rearranged, etc. at the last moment. One thing I don't miss about college is the hassle of registering for classes, having some be canceled and having to scramble to find something new at the last minute.) By the end of the semester, however, I had changed majors and chosen to walk down a new path. (Zora Neale Hurston wasn't solely responsible, however, she had help from some other greats.) Hurston kept popping up on reading lists in college. A short story here and there. And then there came the novel--Their Eyes Were Watching God--I honestly don't remember if it was assigned reading just once or if I read it twice 'officially' (meaning for a grade). But regardless, it was love. I've read this one at least four or five times since that first introduction.

The story. At the heart of the story is a woman. Janie. Except for the very briefest introductions, we first meet Janie as a young woman, sixteen or seventeen and just awakening to the possibilities of love and life and passion.

Oh to be a pear tree–any tree in bloom! With kissing bees singing of the beginning of the world! She was sixteen. She had glossy leaves and bursting buds and she wanted to struggle with life but it seemed to elude her. Where were the singing bees for her? Nothing on the place nor in her grandma’s house answered her. She searched as much of the world as she could from the top of the front steps and then went on down to the front gate and leaned over to gaze up and down the road. Looking, waiting, breathing short with impatience. Waiting for the world to be made. (11)

But life and love don't come easy for Janie. Her grandmother, the woman who raised her, forces her into a loveless marriage. Logan is Janie's first husband, her first introduction to what it means to 'be' a woman. In chapter three, we read, "She knew now that marriage did not make love. Janie’s first dream was dead, so she became a woman." (25) But Janie goes on to have other dreams and second chances.

Janie's life isn't easy, and the things that take her from an unhappy wife of seventeen to a grown woman, a sadder but wiser woman, in her forties are often bittersweet. But her story is one that must be told, must be shared. It is an emotional journey of one woman's life, one woman's experiences and heart aches. Her hopes. Her dreams. Her everything laid before the world.

“Love is lak de sea. It’s uh movin’ thing, but still and all, it takes its shape from de shore it meets, and it’s different with every shore.” (191)

“Two things everybody’s got tuh do fuh theyselves. They got tuh go tuh God, and they got tuh find out about livin’ fuh theyselves.” (192)

The book is beautiful. Full of imagery--some beautiful, some haunting, some heartbreaking, but always, always authentic imagery. The language. The characters. The style. This one is a real gem of a book. The best of the best. A true masterpiece.

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Hillman, Laura. 2005. I Will Plant You A Lilac Tree.

"We are going to Brunnlitz, to Oskar Schindler's camp!" I recall the shouts of joy that filled the barrack at Plaszow. But the terrible place where I now stand is not that hoped-for refuge. It is Auschwitz. (1)

I Will Plant You A Lilac Tree is a memoir of one of the women saved by Oskar Schindler. Hannelore Wolff. Except for the two-page prologue, the book is a chronological account of Hannelore's life in Nazi Germany. The book opens with her attending a Jewish boarding school in Berlin. Since Hitler had come to power, it was dangerous for Jews to walk on public streets. In spite of the risk we walked along a tree-lined avenue in a suburb of Berlin, the ever-present yellow Stars of David sewn to our jackets. (3) One day she receives a letter from her mother with the news that her father has been taken by the Nazis and has died. Weeks later she receives another letter. A letter saying that her mother and two brothers will be deported to the East on May 8, 1942. In what could only be perceived as foolish-yet-brave behavior, Hannelore writes a letter to the Nazis saying that she wishes to be deported along with her family. They grant it. Now this family of four is facing the great unknown as they board a train that could lead them--probably will lead them--to their deaths.

Hannelore's story isn't always easy to read. Let's see if I can phrase this better. Those readers who aren't well-versed in Holocaust memoirs may find it difficult to read. The way the Jews are treated is despicable. It is callous. Hannelore's story is an account of some of the wrongs she faced, some of the wrongs she witnessed. But it is also a story of courage, of hope, of strength in a time of great despair. While sometimes surviving was a matter of luck--of chance--part of it had to do with will as well. Those that lost the will to live, those that gave up hope, those that gave in to despair... Starvation. Disease. Nazis. The Nazis were responsible either directly or indirectly for so many deaths. Hannelore's story of how she survived the various camps and came to be one of the lucky few saved by Schindler is amazing and fascinating and in places quite heartbreaking.

But this memoir isn't just a testament of survival, and it isn't just an account of the wrongs against the Jewish people. It is a love story as well, a story of how love can be found even in the darkest places, the most despairing times. A story of how one young man and one young woman found hope and love in each other. A story of how that love helped them endure.

I definitely recommend this one.

243 pages.

To read other Nonfiction Monday posts, visit the roundup.

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O'Brian, Robert C. 1971. Mrs. Frisby and the Rats of NIMH

Mrs. Frisby, the head of a family of field mice, lived in an underground house in the vegetable garden of a farmer named Mr. Fitzgibbon.

Mrs. Frisby and the Rats of NIMH won the Newbery in 1972. This was my first time to read it. My first impression? Slightly odd, but odd in a good way. A really good way. It took me a few chapters to suspend my disbelief. Talking animal books while aren't completely foreign to me, aren't my norm usually. But once I allowed myself the opportunity to really embrace the story for what it was--fantasy not realistic fiction--then I was more than hooked.

The story is about the Frisby family. Mrs. Frisby is the head of the family. It is winter, and one of her children, Timothy, is sick. She's told by the "doctor" mouse that to move her son would result in his death. Yet move they must if they're to survive. For spring has come. The thaw has begun. The frost is long over. And she overhears the farmer making plans to get out the tractor. Her home--their home--is in the field. Their home is a "slightly damaged cinder block" that is almost completely underground. The story is her search for help. It is this search for help which will lead her directly to the rats.

Mrs. Frisby is afraid of the rats. Almost everyone is afraid of the rats. But when her son's life hangs in the balance...it's a time for a mother to overcome her fears--all her fears--even if those fears are rats and owls and crows.

I definitely recommend this book. It was fun and enjoyable.

233 pages

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Gray, Elizabeth Janet. 1942. Adam of the Road.

After a May as gray and cold as December, June came in, that year of 1294, sunny and warm and full of birds and blossoms and all the other happy things the songs praise May for.

Adam of the Road is one of those titles that I most likely never would have read without some encouragement and pressure. I avoided it as a child. Why? Mainly the cover I think. It didn't look like my kind of book. It still doesn't look like my kind of book. A boy in a skirt with a dog? However, appearances can be deceiving.

I am very glad that I read this one. Set in the thirteenth century, it is the story of a young boy, Adam. Adam is the son of a somewhat mostly successful and popular minstrel named Roger. (It's not like Roger is the most famous minstrel of all time with legions and legions of fans clamoring for him. But he's good at what he does and he always finds work.) When the book opens, Adam is at a monastery--an abbey. He's staying with the monks and attending their school until his father returns. His best friend is a dog named Nick, a red spaniel. But his other best friend is a boy named Perkin.

When his father returns, all seems well. In fact, they've never been better. They're reunited. Father. Son. Dog. The father has been hired by a well-to-do man on a semi-permanent basis. He's found a benefactor or sponsor you might say. I'm not really too familiar with the terms and the arrangements of medieval minstrels. And his father has been rewarded with a horse. They are to live for a while with this man on his estate. Adam will be around kids--both girls and boys--his own age. And there are some truly happy times spent there.

However, the good times don't last forever. After the big family wedding, father and son are once again on their own until the next big celebration or holiday or whatever. What's worse? After the wedding, Roger gambled and lost not only his money but his new horse. What's even worse than that? The man who won him doesn't know how to treat a horse? What's even more wore than that? The man has been wanting Nick. He's been watching Nick closely. He's made several offers. He won't be satisfied until the dog is his. And being a true villain, the deed is soon done.

Adam is angry and determined. Determined to follow this man--a fellow minstrel--as long as it takes in order to find his dog and get him back, this father and son team head off on his trail. But tracking this dog down isn't easy. The road is full of danger in more ways than one. It's not long after that Nick isn't the only one that is "lost." Adam and Roger become separated during the chase and have a monstrously difficult time getting reunited.

I was hesitant to say that much. However, the jacket flap clearly states that Adam is on the road alone searching for his father and for his dog.

What the description fails to hint at is that the book is actually interesting. The cover and description don't really do the book much justice. I think sometimes it's easy to assume that kids won't be interested in reading historical fiction. And to a certain degree, I agree. I think it is sometimes harder to sell historical fiction than fantasy for example. But I think for certain readers, Adam of the Road can still entertain even after all these years.

Adam of the Road won the Newbery in 1943.

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Lin, Grace. 2008. The Year of the Rat.

"Happy Year of the Rat!" Dad said as he toasted us with his glass. The clinking noises filled the air as the adults knocked glasses of wine against the kids' cups of juice.

What can I say about The Year of the Rat? Well, for starters it's a sequel to the oh-so-fabulous The Year of the Dog. I really loved the first novel. And I was super-excited to learn that another book was coming. It was one on my "wish list" for 2008 since early last spring.

The Year of the Rat continues the story of Pacy and her family and friends. She's a young girl, Tiawanese-American, who is "struggling" if you will with all the different shapes and sizes change can come in. The Year of the Rat, Pacy's told by her parents, symbolizes change. And change is something that can be more than a little scary for our young heroine.

One of the scariest changes for Pacy? Her best friend, Melody, is moving away! It's awful; it's terrible; it's true. Pacy now has the challenge or struggle of learning to live life without her best friend so close. School, her classmates, everything is different now. Emptier. Sadder. Lonelier. Can she find a place where she belongs?

This novel is all about being comfortable with who you are, discovering who you are, and learning what you want to be and see and do. It's a process. Change isn't always easy and it's definitely not always welcome. But Pacy will learn that a little change can be a good thing.

If you loved the first in the series, you're going to want to continue on with the rest. I just loved it!

182 pages.

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Gaskell, Elizabeth. 1866. Wives and Daughters.

To begin with the old rigmarole of childhood. In a country there was a shire, and in that shire there was a town, and in that town there was a house, and in that house there was a room, and in that room there was a bed, and in that bed there lay a little girl; wide awake and longing to get up, but not daring to do so for fear of the unseen power in the next room; a certain Betty, whose slumbers must not be disturbed until six o'clock struck, when she wakened of herself 'as sure as clockwork' and left the household very little peace afterwards. It was a June morning, and early as it was, the room was full of sunny warmth and light.

This first chapter introduces us to a young Molly Gibson. She's around twelve at the time give or take a little. And she is most eager to go to her 'first' 'real' social event: a tea hosted by the Lord and Lady of the region--Lord and Lady Cumnor. The Cumnor's estate--they have several--in the region was called The Towers. (Usually they reside elsewhere. This is definitely just their country vacation home.) At this grand party, the young girl gets bored wanders into the gardens, falls asleep, is later discovered by the former-governess-then widow, Mrs. Kirkpatrick. (The family STILL calls her Miss Clare.) This discovery ruins the day for her. It's not that the family treats her poorly, it's just that when Mrs. Kirkpatrick tells the young girl to rest from being out in the sun (or some such notion) in her room, the girl falls asleep and misses her ride home. So she awakens hours later alone and confused and wanting to go home and be with her dad. (Her mother died when she was just a wee thing.) Her dad, the doctor, a somewhat dignified, genuinely respected doctor, comes to her rescue, however, and she's saved the embarrassment of having to sleep over.

A few chapters later Molly has grown from twelve to sixteen. She's becoming a young lady, an attractive young lady. And her father is noticing the transition. Feeling overwhelmed by the thought of raising her alone, he decides to remarry. It's not that he decides this overnight. At first he resists the notion. But as the idea sits with him, it grows on him more and more. When he discovers that Mrs. Kirkpatrick is once again visiting The Towers (after quite a few years absence from the region) he decides to call on the family and see if she might not do as a wife. He knows or vaguely remembers that she has a daughter around Molly's age. He hopes that the idea of raising a daughter without a father will seem equally daunting to her as raising a daughter without a mother.

Molly is SO NOT HAPPY with the idea of a stepmother and stepsister.

And here my summary must stop. The book is long 648 pages. But it is good in a steady kind of way. It is slow; It is steady; It is good; It improves with each bit. (What do I mean by "bit"? Well, the descriptions seem heavy and largely unnecessary--very weighty--at the very beginning. But towards the middle and especially at the end, it begins to make sense. These descriptive bits which you take for fluff at first, are meant to pad the resulting pages. In other words, they help explain or fill out or give substance to the rest. It's not that you'll desperately need that information, but it will make more sense and be a better read if you resist the urge to skip and skim. Gaskell has a HUGE task. She brings to life a whole community. From the Gibsons to the Kirkpatricks to the Cumnors to the Hamleys to the town busybodies. A real panoramic, sweeping view or portrait of life.

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Wilder, Laura Ingalls. 1943. These Happy Golden Years.

Sunday afternoon was clear, and the snow-covered prairie sparked in the sunshine. A little wind blew gently from the south, but it was so cold that the sled runners squeaked as they slid on the hard-packed snow. The horses' hoofs made a dull sound, clop, clop, clop. Pa did not say anything.

These Happy Golden Years begins directly after the close of Little Town On the Prairie. Laura is fifteen--a few weeks shy of her sixteenth birthday. She has been hired to teach school for two months. The school where she is to teach is for a community around twelve miles away. Pa is taking her to the place where she'll be boarding. She expects to stay there for eight weeks all on her own--homesick or not; miserable or not. The Brewsters--the family she stays with--are miserable company. Mrs. Brewster is one angry, potentially psycho woman. (I never could quite figure out why she's threatening her husband with a knife.) School is awful. She doesn't really like teaching at all. But the thing that keeps her going--the thing that surprises her week after week after week--is that Almanzo comes to take her home and back each and every weekend no matter how cold. These trips are often silent, but much appreciated.

But when the eight weeks are over, Laura is surprised that his courting--his wooing--continues. Rides in his sleigh. Rides in his buggy. He's an almost constant present every week.

It isn't just rides and courting, however. Laura is back in school, back with her friends, back with her family. Seasons come and go. Other teaching opportunities arise--which she accepts--none are ever as horrid as the first.

Without a doubt, my favorite gleeful, giddy-making chapter is "Barnum Walks."

"I was wondering..." Almanzo paused. Then he picked up Laura's hand that shone white in the starlight, and his sun-browned hand closed gently over it. He had never done that before. "Your hand is so small" he said. Another pause. Then quickly, "I was wondering if you would like an engagement ring."
"That would depend on who offered it to me," Laura told him.
"If I should?" Almanzo asked.
"Then it would depend on the ring." Laura answered and drew her hand away.

The next week...well, I don't want to spoil it. But I love it.

"It will have to be a little house. Do you mind?"
"I have always lived in little houses. I like them." (214-215)

Anyway, it is a thoroughly enjoyable, perfect, perfect book.

289 pages

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Wilder, Laura Ingalls. 1941. Little Town on the Prairie.

I'm not sure how other fans feel. I've never sat down to have deep philosophical discussions on which books from the series are their personal favorites and bests. But Little Town on the Prairie gets my pick for being an unsung hero. I always, always forget about it when naming my favorites. It gets overshadowed by The Long Winter and These Happy Golden Years. But I would imagine that each and every time I sit down to actually read it, I find myself delighted and surprised.

The book opens almost where Long Winter left off. The Ingalls family have moved back to their homestead. They are living in their claim shanty. They are busy, busy, busy. It seems each book finds them always hard at work, always diligent, always thinking ahead and planning. What is on their minds in this book is getting enough money saved to send Mary to college. Her school for the blind. At the heart of this is Laura's determination to earn money to contribute to the family's savings. At first this is through her work in town helping the seamstress. But it is also in her quiet, steady determination to study hard so that she can earn her teacher's certificate when she is sixteen.

What is so delightful about Little Town on the Prairie is the quiet, peaceful winter spent in town. Here we see Laura attending school on a regular basis. Here we see her making friends. Here we see a return of Nellie Oleson. No longer the "city girl" or the "town girl." Nellie is now the shabbier, poorer neighbor. She's as mean as ever. Or so Laura would have us belief. A nice Nelly? Unthinkable! But above all, Little Town on the Prairie is delightful because of Almanzo Wilder.

"Name Cards" is one of my favorite chapters. It starts out with Nellie being horrid, and ends with a rather subtly romantic first ride for Laura behind Almanzo's oh-so-admired horses. (Laura has been eying those horses for quite a while now.) Almanzo sees her hurrying along to school--worried she might be late--and so he offers to give her a ride. She didn't know he knew she existed. Anyway, pure delight.

Of equal delight is "Schooltime Begins Again" where Almanzo Wilder asks Laura Ingalls if he can walk her home after the revival. The revival lasts all week, and each night he is there by her side waiting to ask to see her home. Around this time, though not quite in this chapter, he asks if she would like to go for sleigh rides in January when his new cutter is finished.

Small beginnings that won't come to bloom until These Happy Golden Years. But beginnings that make you smile and are satisfying in their own way.

First sentence: One evening at supper, Pa asked, "How would you like to work in town, Laura?" Laura could not say a word. Neither could any of the others.

Pages: 307

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Wilder, Laura Ingalls. 1940. The Long Winter.

The mowing machine's whirring sounded cheerfully from the old buffalo wallow south of the claim shanty, where bluestem grass stood thick and tall and Pa was cutting it for hay.

This first chapter is called "Make Hay While the Sun Shines" and if it's found within a book called THE LONG WINTER, the reader knows what to expect even if the characters don't. The book opens with Ma and Pa and family getting ready for harvest and winter. Laura is helping out Pa. Mary and Carrie are helping out Ma. Laura is especially pleased that she's old enough (around 14 now) to help Pa and do outdoor chores.

The Ingalls family is living in their claim shanty. This would be the first fall/winter they've been there. And they know it will be tough, but when the first blizzard comes in October, they know that it wouldn't only be tough to survive but impossible to survive if they were to try to stay on their homestead. Fortunately, Pa owns property in town. A place where they can be nice and warm and cozy for the winter. Or so they think.

What no one could know is just how hard, how long, how tough this winter was going to be. Some folks are prepared--the Wilder boys for instance--but most are not. Most are relying on the train making regular stops in town. The trains are essential for stocking the stores of supplies. But when almost every day brings a blizzard--with clear days coming only one at a time and never on a predictable schedule--it soon becomes clear that the trains will not be saving the day. Not til spring. The town's survival, the Ingalls' family survival, is a big if at this point.

Cold. Hunger. Starvation. No supplies. What's not to love?

The Long Winter has always been one of my favorites of the Little House series. I'll admit it tends to make you cold and hungry. But that's not a bad thing, right? I didn't think so. Only two books can trick my mind and body--okay maybe three--into thinking it's cold and hungry. One, of course, is The Long Winter. The other two are by Susan Beth Pfeffer. I think one of the reasons I love The Long Winter is that it introduces Almanzo Wilder onto the scene. True, there was Farmer Boy if you didn't skip it like I have done. But this Almanzo is a man--a young man it's true--19 years of age. And he's acting "manly" alright when it's time to save the day. I love every scene Almanzo is in. Laura first meets him when she's lost and trying to find her Pa in the slough of hay. Here is the description: "His blue eyes twinkled down at her as if he had known her a long time." Anyway, I love this book.

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Wilder, Laura Ingalls. 1937. On the Banks of Plum Creek.

The dim wagon track went no farther on the prairie, and Pa stopped the horses. When the wagon wheels stopped turning, Jack dropped down in the shade between them. His belly sank on the grass and his front legs stretched out. His nose fitted in the furry hollow. All of him rested, except his ears.

On The Bank of Plum Creek opens when the Ingalls family arrives at their new home. They have bought a place, and their first new "home" is a dugout. They are buying it from a Norwegian man, Mr. Hanson, who is moving further west I presume. This is just temporary. Charles (or "Pa" as he's referred to so often it's hard not to join in) has promised to build them a real house, a real home just as soon as he can. The book opens with promises and hopes and dreams. But most of the book will see those hopes and dreams delayed. What Pa needs--what they all need--are good crops, good wheat crops. What Pa gets is grasshoppers. The Ingalls family does struggle a bit in On The Banks of Plum Creek. But they do settle in and get comfortable. Mary and Laura, for instance, start school. It is the first time for them to ever attend school. And they do meet up with some town folks like Nellie Oleson.

Overall, this is a more than enjoyable read. Some of my favorite chapters are "Nellie Oleson," "Town Party," "Country Party," "Going to Church," and "Surprise."

It is 339 pages.

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Last night I reread one of my favorite books of all time. A.A. Milne's Winnie the Pooh. I can't begin to count how many times I've read--either on my own or read aloud--this brilliant book. The characters? Christopher Robin. Winnie ther Pooh. Piglet. Rabbit. Owl. Kanga and Roo. And of course the ever-sullen Eeyore. They're so wonderful. So lovable. So perfect. The language? So beloved. So familiar. So right. I really couldn't imagine a world without Pooh. Pooh captures everything that is so right with the world. The innocence. The charm. The love. The kindness. There's just something so good, so pure about Christopher Robin and his chums.

Here is Edward Bear, coming downstairs now, bump, bump, bump, on the back of his head, behind Christopher Robin. It is, as far as he knows, the only way of coming downstairs, but sometimes he feels that there really is another way, if only he could stop bumping for a moment and think of it. And then he feels that perhaps there isn't. Anyhow, here he is at the bottom, and ready to be introduced to you. Winnie-the-Pooh.
When I first heard his name, I said, just as you are going to say, "But I thought he was a boy?"
"So did I," said Christopher Robin.
"Then you can't call him Winnie?"
"I don't."
"But you said--"
"He's Winnie-ther-Pooh. Don't you know what 'ther' means?"
"Ah, yes, now I do," I said quickly; and I hope you do too, because it is all the explanation you are going to get. (1-2)

Christopher Robin and his stuffed bear, Winnie-the-Pooh, love to be told stories. (I think everyone likes to be told stories.) Pooh especially likes to be told stories about himself because as Christopher Robin says, "he's that sort of Bear."

The first story about Winnie-the-Pooh starts off like this, "Once upon a time, a very long time ago now, about last Friday, Winnie-the-Pooh lived in a forest all by himself under the name of Sanders."

I just love that beginning. Don't you? It's silly; it's fun; it's just right. Once upon a time . . . about last Friday. Genius.

The stories themselves are very interactive. The narrator speaks to the child directly. I really think Pooh is the kind of story that is meant to be read aloud. And read aloud often. It bears much repeating. It only grows better each time it is experienced.

According to the 80th Anniversary edition of the book Winnie the Pooh has been translated into thirty-one different languages! Which makes him perfect for this Wednesday's edition of Travel the World.

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If I'm being honest, Northanger Abbey has never been one of my favorites. The book, well, the book just seemed to lack that magic spark, that sizzle, those ahhh life-is-good moments that Pride and Prejudice and Persuasion seem to encompass. It's not that I don't think the novel has its moments of charm. I do. The first sentence (or so) is magnificent: "No one who had ever seen Catherine Morland in her infancy would have supposed her born to be an heroine. Her situation in life, the character of her father and mother, her own person and disposition, were all equally against her." In the first few pages, there are just some stand-out phrases that are pure wit (or satire or sarcasm). For example, "But from fifteen to seventeen she was in training for a heroine; she read all such works as heroines must read to supply their memories with those quotations which are so serviceable and so soothing in the vicissitudes of their eventful lives." And I love this bit, "She had reached the age of seventeen without having seen one amiable youth who could call forth her sensibility; without having inspired one real passion, and without having excited even any admiration but what was very moderate and very transient. This was strange indeed! But strange things may be generally accounted for if their cause be fairly searched out. There was not one lord in the neighborhood; no, not even a baronet. There was not one family among their acquaintances who had reared and supported a boy accidentally found at their door; not one young man whose origin was unknown. Her father had no ward, the the squire of the parish no children. But when a young lady is to be a heroine, the perverseness of forty surrounding families cannot prevent her. Something must and will happen to throw a hero in her way." I love that...."something must and will happen to throw a hero in her way." Perfect tongue-in-cheek beginning to a rather ordinary trip to Bath.

Our heroine--our want-to-be-heroine--Catherine is seventeen. She has been invited to go to Bath to be a companion to Mr. and Mrs. Allen, the Morland's friendly (and childless) neighbors. At first, their trip is boring. The Allens don't know anyone in Bath. They can't very well go about introducing themselves to strangers. Catherine who longs to dance and soar in popularity can't go about conversing with strange young men. All seems rather dreary until they are introduced to a Mr. Henry Tilney. Suddenly, Catherine's eyes begin to sparkle and her heart begins to pound. (And if Austen's imagined character resembles JJ Feild, no wonder, Catherine is so swept up! Anyone's imagination would be prone to getting carried away all of a sudden. (Pictures of the cast can be found here and here and of course the Masterpiece Theatre site.) Soon after, the Allens meet the Thorpes. Mrs. Thorpe and Mrs. Allen having been school chums several decades before. Isabella Thorpe. Soon to be Catherine's instant new best friend. and (Perhaps we should all learn a lesson about people that are that clingy and chummy from the second you meet them.) A further coincidence occurs a bit later on when Mr. James Morland--Catherine's older brother--and Mr. John Thorpe suddenly appear on the scene. James is smitten with Isabella. And John is smitten with Catherine. (Catherine, however, remains smitten with Henry. Which girl wouldn't stay true, I tell you. Especially if the competition is John Thorpe. A man who was giving off creepy vibes almost from the very beginning. So the ThorpesMorlands are all chummy in a way. When the Tilneys reenter the scene. Mr. Henry Tilney is now accompanied by his father, General Tilney, a genuinely spooky and temperamental fellow, and his sweet and gentle sister, Eleanor. Miss Eleanor Tilney and Catherine while getting off to a bit of a bumpy start, soon become friends. Is Isabella happy? No. Just the first sign of trouble from her. So we've got Catherine being pursued by both John and Henry. Isabella being pursued by James and the noticeably arrogant Captain Tilney. (Henry's older brother who just happens to drop by and takes a noted interest in wooing Isabella away from her intended and straight into his bed.) All this drama and we haven't even heard mention of Northanger Abbey!

Well, I don't want to spoil this for anyone. Drama--some real, some imagined--is what you'll find in Austen's Northanger Abbey.

I read the book on Saturday afternoon/night. I liked it. It was okay. But on the screen it sizzled. It just worked. It was practically perfect in every way. Henry Tilney was the perfect hero. He was so thoroughly charming and witty. So adorably there for the girl. Always knowing just what to do, just what to say. Sigh. Sigh. Sigh. But my appreciation for the movie goes beyond the chemistry of Henry Tilney and Catherine Morland. Everything just worked. The mood. The tone. The music--the score. The dialogue. They truly captured the essence of this book. And in my opinion--and it is just my opinion--improved on it. Maybe it just works better--the plot, the characters, the dialogue--acted out instead of read. I am no expert on Northanger Abbey by any means, but to my reckoning it was true enough to the book that if it did in fact deviate at some point it wasn't glaringly, obviously, punch-you-in-the-gut contrary. That being said, it SPED things up considerably. Instead of showing the Allen's out of their element and bored and wondering what to do about it for a week or maybe two weeks, they meet Mr. Tilney at the first social gathering they attend. That wasn't in the book. And it happened several times. The book shows things happening gradually--slowly. There is more detailed action and characterization. (For example, the movie doesn't show James wooing Isabella at all. Or hardly at all. They just don't focus on that aspect of the book.) But do we lose the heart and soul of the story by watching things develop so quickly? Yes and no. Quite honestly, I would have LOVED this one to be two or three hours long. I wouldn't have been bored with more story, more details, more of everything really. I would have been happy. But still, there aren't any complaints from me. They got it right this time. It is just fun and delightful and enjoyable and happy-making. I think it says something when my mom and I both wear the same silly ear-to-ear grins at the end of a movie. I would imagine, I would hope, we're not the only ones out there who loved that oh-so-magical ending.

Here is an early clip of the movie. (We're about five or six minutes into the movie when this starts.) I chose this because I didn't want to spoil the movie for anyone, but I wanted to show something of Henry and Catherine.


A continuation of the scene--the all-important boy meets girl and starts to flirt scene.

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How do I love thee? Let me count the ways....

Persuasion by Jane Austen has to be--without a doubt--my favorite, favorite Austen novel. I've only read it twice, but each time was oh-so-magical. Though I will *admit* that it perhaps isn't a book that will "grab" you from page one. It might take some patience and effort, but give it a chapter or two (or three) and you might just find yourself swept up in the story of Anne Elliot.

Sir Walter Eliott, of Kellynch-hall, in Somersetshire, was a man who, for his own amusement, never took up any book but the Barnetage; there he found occupation for an idle hour, and consolation in a distressed one; there his faculties were roused into admiration and respect, by contemplating the limited remnant of the earliest patents; there any unwelcome sensations, arising from domestic affairs, changed naturally into pity and contempt, as he turned over the almost endless creations of the last century--and there, if every other leaf were powerless, he could read his own history with an interest which never failed--this was the page at which the favorite volume always opened: Elliot of Kellynch-Hall.

See what I mean about NOT being an opening that will hook you? Long story short...or three reasons why you should read Persuasion despite its verbose, pompous opening....

1) It is the story of Anne Elliot. A middle child, a daughter obviously, born into a pompous and atrocious family muddles through the best she can while waiting for her Prince to come. (Okay, she's not really waiting for her Prince to come and rescue her. She's all but given up on love since she's also, at age 27, an "old maid.")

2) Despite coming from a ghastly, horribly obnoxious family, Anne herself is not only intelligent and genuine but she's also thoroughly enjoyable and likable. She has a wit and cleverness about her. She actually sees the world around her. She isn't blind to reality like so many of the other characters.

3) Persuasion is all about second chances. Anne Elliot, a girl who truly deserves good things because her family is so rotten, lost her one chance for love and happiness eight years before our narrative opens. Her heart belonged--then and now--to a young man, a sailor, Frederick Wentworth. But her family and friends deemed him unworthy and unacceptable. And forced into choosing between her family and her love, she chose her family. A decision she regretted from the moment she broke her lover's heart.

When Persuasion opens the reader learns that hard times have come to the Elliot family--a family mostly known for its arrogance and pride. The family is *forced* into renting their out their estate to an Admiral Croft and his wife. The Elliot family--all but Anne--will reside in Bath year round. Anne, poor Anne, only Anne, will be parceled out as need be between Bath and her father and older sister, Elizabeth, and her younger sister, Mary.

What can I say about Mary? Mary is interesting--and by interesting I mean obnoxious and annoying--in a completely different way than her father, Sir Walter, and her sister, Elizabeth. Mary is married to Charles. Charles Musgrove. Charles and Mary and their two children live on the estate--in a smaller house--as his parents and his sisters. They live in the "great house." Anne's time spent with her sister and her sister's in-laws is interesting to say the least. Mainly because someone has just arrived in the neighborhood. A Captain Wentworth. Captain Frederick Wentworth.

Just the sight of him makes her heart skip a beat--or two or three--she loves him like she's always loved him. But he's out of reach. He's now courting--of all people--one of the Musgrove sisters.

Love. Requited. Unrequited. Broken hearts. Regret. Jealousy. Disappointment. Frustration. It's all there with just a little more besides.

I do not want to spoil this one for anyone. Really. I don't want to. So please, please, please stop reading if you haven't read the novel. I mean it.

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There are just a few scenes--one really big scene--that makes this novel oh-so-magical. That takes it from nice to really really great.

I love, love, love the conversation between Anne Elliot and Captain Harville. Their discussion on which sex--which gender--loves most, loves deepest, loves truer is one of the best dialogues ever. Seriously. Mostly because of the heart-felt letter that is the result of Captain Wentworth overhearing that conversation. That letter? The best, most romantic love letter of ALL TIME. Who could not love this guy?

I can listen no longer in silence. I must speak to you by such means as are within my reach. You pierce my soul. I am half agony, half hope. Tell me not that I am too late, that such precious feelings are gone forever. I offer myself to you again with a heart even more your own than when you almost broke it eight years and a half ago. Dare not say that a man forgets sooner than woman, that his love has an earlier death. I have loved none but you. Unjust I may have been, week and resentful I have been, but never inconstant. You alone have brought me to Bath. For you alone I think and plan.

The letter goes on, but I think you get the idea. Anyway, as much as I love Pride & Prejudice (and I do) I've just got to give the award to Anne and Captain Wentworth when it comes to love and romance. Okay, it only wins by a small margin--because Darcy is quite a letter-writer as well. And he is oh-so-dreamy in his own ways. But Anne, Anne is what makes this book so wonderful. She's a heroine that has nothing to recommend her but her self--her true self. A self that only a few recognize as a thing of beauty, a thing of great worth.

Let's compare Wentworths...first the 1995 Persuasion, then the 2008 Persuasion.




Now let's compare Anne Elliots...first the 1995 Persuasion, then the 2008 Persuasion



There is a cool character chart for the new movie.

As for the movies, I think I will *always* prefer the 1995 version. Even though none of the characters are glamorously beautiful, they're real and genuine. And that movie is *closer* to the book than this latest version. The real crime--in my opinion--is that they DID NOT HAVE the ultra-romantic scene with Captain Harville and Anne Elliot. They abbreviate that conversation down to a few lines, put it very nearly in the beginning, and have it taking place between Anne and a Captain Benwick. Therefore Wentworth can't overhear it, and doesn't have the *proper* motivation to write that beautiful, beautiful letter. Instead they invent a new excuse or else completely gloss over motivation entirely and have the letter showing up without provocation or reason. It's just suddenly there in the script. Silly, silly writers. Why mess with the majesty of the perfect scene???? If the new movie HAD bothered to get it right, perhaps there would be some competition between the two.

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