Siena,

and the Palio, is such a rich subject. And I feel like Anne Fortier's Juliet gave me everything I didn't get from the other Siena/Palio book I read a while ago, Daughter of Siena (Marina Fiorata) [also, HOLLER, system worked, I had no idea what that book was and then found it in the blog just now]. This was more of a Pink Carnation or Mary Malloy type book, with the action in the present and the (related) action in the past being interwoven together. And a kind of mystery. Not that Malloy and Lauren Willig have a monopoly on the style, it's just what I think of.

Anyhow, I really liked Juliet, as I said the other day. I had been getting another book from Lamont, and I saw Juliet down the shelf a couple books, and the spine was appealing. So I read the first page - an epigraph, as it happened - and liked THAT, so I checked it out. Finally got around to reading it during the blizzard weekend, wanting something lighter after I had been reading something heavier, but it was better than just a palate cleanser.

Basically a young American woman who is obsessed with Shakespeare and Romeo and Juliet ends up in modern-day Siena where she finds out she's a descendant (and namesake) of the original inspiration for Juliet. She also needs to find the artifacts relating to the story, and the whole story, that were a part of her parents' mysterious deaths when she was a young child. And there's a hot Italian man, and lots of clothes and prosecco and gelatto. Lots of history, too, but handled well - respectfully (and hopefully responsibly/accurately, although it's NOT my period, so it could all be totally wrong for all I know) and lightly, so it's everywhere, but not overwhelming or artificial. Lots of my favorite things in any case.

A lot of it is predictable, especially the development of the "relationship" between our Juliet and the leading man, but still entertaining and the main character, while a bit obvious, is relatable and very engaging. The setting (both the city and the temporal setting too, when in the past) is handled quite well, and the worlds feel real while you're in them. Ugh, except now I really want to go to Siena!!!

Happy Books (For V)

Was talking with V last night, and the subject of happy, or at least not-depressing, books came up, and I started trying to think of some.  So, the list I came up with as I walked home, for her & for me when I need a good but not-depressing read is:

The Monsters of Templeton, Lauren Groff (which I literally stocked up on copies of)
The War of the Saints, Jorge Amado (one of my favorites of all time)
Sea of Poppies, Amitav Ghosh (wrapped me up and swept me away; only hesitation in recommending it is that we're still waiting for the next installment of the Trilogy to come out)
The Good Thief, Hannah Tinti (I seriously almost cried, on the f***ing T, because it was so darn heartwarming)
Shark Dialogues, Kiana Davenport (it's not great lit, but I really enjoy it, and it's not crap)
In the Woods, Tana French (darker than the others - it's a murder mystery, after all - but so engaging)
The Eyre Affair, Jasper Fforde (Fforde just makes me laugh, and giggle, and snort, and laugh some more...)

Paging Dr. House...

My writing class (ha, yes, I am in one, not that you would know from this blog) teacher assigned us a piece that originally appeared in The New Yorker a few decades ago, by the "Annals of Medicine" staff writer, Berton Roueche (accent on the final E - need to figure out how to do accents in this thing).  In order to get a literal hold on a copy of the essay, "The Incurable Wound," I checked out of the library a collection of his work, The Medical Detectives.  So far I am totally loving it - I just started with the first essay last night on the bus, and have been zipping through.  Going to skip over "Incurable" when I get to it, so I can read it closer to next Tuesday's class, but I am already regretting there aren't more stories in the collection.  According to some of the stories that Prof. T referenced last week, when she was talking about the writer/book, I am pretty sure this is where some of the "House" plotlines come from - when C and I heard her say a teenager is poisoned by wearing pants that were soaked in a chemical while they were still baled, we were like "House!" simultaneously - and these are just as fun, so far.  The strictly medical stuff is a little dry, although Roueche does a great job of writing about science/medicine for a lay audienence, but the fun really is in the "detective work" that the doctors do, tracking down first what could have made their patients sick, and then how it could have happened.  Our teacher kept saying this would be a great book "to give your dad" but I already want to share it around to everyone I know who appreciates an engaging story and nice (humorous, concise, literate) writing.  Weirdly, the book is strongly reminding me of this book of ghost stories I had, and read to pieces, as a kid.  Don't remember what it was called, but I think it had a purple and black cover.  And I think maybe they weren't necessarily ghost stories, but just, like, mysterious occurrences.  I think one might have been something to do with spontaneous combustion, and I think something else was maybe a house that was haunted by Dolly Madison???  In any case, I don't know why, except for maybe the shared spare-but-active prose, but Medical Detectives kept making me think of that other book - which I probably haven't thought of in years.  I need to do some digging, because last time I felt this way I was reading Farenheit 451, and kept thinking - for weeks - of Something Wicked This Way Comes (the movie) for some reason, before I realized that the movie was based on another book by Ray Bradbury.  Ugh.  And Something Wicked This Way Comes makes me think of The Watcher in the Woods, which still scared me, even when I got
older.  Well, okay, Bette Davis, all balding and creepy, scared me.