More books, Pt. 1

Tired today (went to bed at 5:00 a.m., woke up at 10:30), so just the basics, so I can get rid of the pile of books under my desk...

Last Wednesday (Wed. before last?  1/12/11) I finished Valerio Massimo Manfredi's The Ides of March.  Enjoyed it, but definitely wasn't blown away.  As I recall, I read about this book, or possibly another one by the same author, in one of the Harvard Bookstore monthly newsletters, and was captivated by the awesomeness of the the name "Valerio Massimo Manfredi."  The book is interesting, a run down of the last day's before Ceasar's assasination, but I wasn't so impressed with the plot or writing (granted, it's a translation) that I would read another of Valerio Massimo Manfredi's other books. 
Then I picked back up a novel by Fiona Mountain (another great name) that I had abandoned weeks, if not longer, before and forgotten about - Lady of the Butterflies, a historical romance - I guess - inspired by the real Eleanor Glanville who was a Restoration-era entomologist.  I don't remember what made me request the book from deposit, but I do remember being totally embarassed when I checked it out, the cover of this particular edition being so freaking cheesy.  I read a couple chapters (in December, maybe?) and then put it aside until I stumbled across it after finishing The Ides of March and needing something else to read because I couldn't sleep.  Overall, I was really not a fan, and don't think I will read one of Ms. Mountain's books again.  I will say, I think she did a nice job of describing life in rural England, and London, from 1662 to 1695 - all the mud and muck and filth, the anxious neighbors of dawning reason and science with slow-to-die superstitions.  Even the politics, ever-present but frequently serving only as backdrop, or catalyst, for local and personal turmoil, was somewhat realistic.  But the story was just ridiculous.  Overwrought drama and romance and danger, with what seemed to me like clumsily interlaced sex scenes.  Mostly I think my issue was just that I kept wanting to shake all the characters and make them talk to each other.  I realize some of that is the time the book is set in, but Mountain goes out of her way to create a heroine, and some other characters, who are open-minded, advanced, and like to taaaaaaaalk, so it was frustrating when they just didn't talk to one another honestly and get on with their lives, without all the soap opera nonsense kicking in.  I didn't realize until the end of the book, when I reached the historical note, that Eleanor Glanville was a real person, and that some of the drama was real, so I suppose I should cut Mountain a little slack, but mostly it just makes me want to go read the actual biographies of the woman.  I did notice that Mountain referred to some very decent historical works (including David Cressy) in her acknowledgements, which also makes me feel a little more kindly towards her, if not towards the story.
Of course, I didn't enjoy the story so much that I didn't happily put it down when Kate Morton's The Distant Hours came into my hot little hands!  The two readers of this blog will know that I was a huge fan of her earlier books, The Forgotten Garden and The Shifting Fog (which I read when it was called The House at Riverton).  While in the end I don't think I liked this one as much as those two, I still really, really enjoyed it.  A whopping 497 pages (and hardcover!), I just poured myself into it.  It seems clear that Morton is stuck on the idea of two stories unfolding side by side, as the characters in the present seek to unravel the secrets of the past, but then device works for her, so I have no problem with her staying with it (God, that sounds pretentious!).  In this case a daughter in present(ish) day London sttumbles across her mother's hither-to secret time spent during World War II in a country house filled with loving (more or less) but strange characters - including the reclusive and mysterious author of a massively popular and influential horror story for children, which the protagonist fell in love with as a child.  From then on, the two stories circle around and through each other, with all the different plots and secrets tangling and untangling.  So - not my favorite of Morton's books, but still a great book, and I am just as eager as ever for her next one to come out.