Ranking Recommendations

In talking with Lewis last week, I mentioned The Printmaker's Daughter, which I'd just blogged about. He wanted to know if it was really as good as I'd written because when I'd written about When We Danced on Water earlier in the year, I'd called it "the best work of fiction I've read in nearly a year." How could I then turn around a few months later and write that Katherine Govier's historical novel was "the best book I'd come across in ten—perhaps twenty—years"? It seemed to Lewis that I tended to wax overly rhapsodic in recommending favorite reads, but really, I'm not. Let me explain my recommendation philosophy.

As somebody who writes about books for a living, and has done so for well over a decade, I read, on average, a hundred books a year. The majority of books I read are average at best. In any given year I read several that I would consider in the "B" range, and only one or two that I would grade "A." I'm not actually assigning grades to the books I recommend here, but that doesn't mean I didn't assign grades to them in my personal reading database. Most of the books that I recommend here are the best of the best, those that earned A's from me.

Consider my recommendations analogous to flood event designations. A one-year flood is not very severe; it is likely to occur perhaps annually. A five-year flood, on the other hand, is more severe and more rare; it is likely to occur only once every five years. And a hundred year flood is so rare it is expected only once a century. When I write that a book is the best I've read in a year (like When We Danced on Water or How to Talk to a Widower), it's a great read, and better than probably the 98 or 99 other books I've read in a given year, but it's not as great as a ten or twenty year "flood" read like The Printmaker's Daughter.

Now that you know about the best books I've read this year—and where they rank overall—I'd love for you to share yours with me here on the blog. If you do, please let me know if they are one-year, five year, or ten-year reads...and why.

~Laurie

Book Recommendation: The Printmaker's Daughter

The Printmaker's Daughter

Katherine Govier

Historical Fiction

Harper Perennial, $14.99, 512p, ISBN: 978-0062000361

Also available digitally for Kindle and Nook

From the publisher: Recounting the story of her life, Oei plunges us into the colorful world of nineteenth-century Edo, in which courtesans rub shoulders with poets, warriors consort with actors, and the arts flourish in an unprecedented moment of creative upheaval. Oei and Hokusai live among writers, novelists, tattoo artists, and prostitutes, evading the spies of the repressive shogunate as they work on Hokusai’s countless paintings and prints. Wielding her brush, rejecting domesticity in favor of dedication to the arts, Oei defies all expectations of womanhood—all but one. A dutiful daughter to the last, she will obey the will of her eccentric father, the man who created her and who, ultimately, will rob her of her place in history.

Vivid, daring, and unforgettable, The Printmaker’s Daughter shines fresh light on art, loyalty, and the tender and indelible bond between a father and daughter.

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Harold happened to be home the day I read the last hundred pages of Katherine Govier's The Printmaker's Daughter, and witnessed such an outpouring of tears that he counseled me to think of bunnies and unicorns. I tried to explain to him that he needn't be worried about my crying, that the experience of reading the best book I'd come across in ten—perhaps twenty— years was worth it. More to the point, all my crying was a testament to the power of Govier's writing, story-telling, and characterization.

Sometimes it's best to say little about a great work.

Buy this book. It goes on sale November 22nd.

Read this book.

Revel in its brilliance.

~Laurie

The Philosopher and the Wolf by Mark Rowlands

(I reviewed this book on my blog—Toe in the Water—today. Generally the books I plan to share here are those I graded "A", but I know there are many animal and nature lovers in the family, so I thought I'd share the review with you.)

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The Philosopher and the Wolf

Mark Rowlands

Non-Fiction

Pegasus, $16.50 (hardcover at Amazon), 256p, ISBN: 978-1605980331

Also available in paperback, and digitally (for Kindle and Nook)

The eleven years philosophy professor Mark Rowlands spent with Brenin the wolf at his side profoundly impacted his life. He came to see himself less as an owner or guardian to the animal than as his brother—generally older, but sometimes younger, depending on the lesson learned, and which of them learned it.

The author immediately learned, for instance, that he could not leave Brenin alone or within moments the wolf would make his displeasure known in severley destructive ways. An adjunct to that lesson: If you keep a wolf, you must add $50k onto the price of your home, to cover the damage. Lesson number two? Well, as a result of lesson number one, Brenin accompanied the professor to class. Over time that required him to adjust the class syllabus with a warning that unless students kept foodstuffs in their backpacks thoroughly locked up, they could expect a visit from a foraging wolf. A third lesson: Brenin’s natural, ahem, exuberence could only be overcome by fatigue, so Rowlands learned to tire him out each day through long, long runs. And a fourth: It’s possible to teach a wolf to heel, but you must out-alpha a wolf, and vigilantly maintain that stance throughout the relationship.

The most important lesson learned, though, was one Brenin taught Rowlands while still a pup. It’s predicated on the author’s thesis that as a result of evolution, the worldview of man is simian in origin. As such we rely on social intelligence, so that our subsequent civilization is built upon scheming, plotting, and lying. That's a condensed, bald description, but I think it's an accurate one. After all, in the review of the book by O, the Oprah Magazine, Rowlands is referred to as misanthropic. Which, frankly, is what drew me into requesting the book from @NetGalley for review.

Rowlands proves his point, at least to a degree. Think about it: We are here as a result of natural selection...survival of the fittest. Our ancestors didn’t stand in line for this or that—they made sure they went to the head of the line, or were the ones to create the line. They weren’t the nice ones or the meek, and the author describes in detail how a congregation of apes maintain their cohesion—through intimidation, side-deals, lying, and covering up—all of which makes his point rather nicely. His discussion of sex in the simian world versus the canine and lupine world fascinated me, and helped prove his point as well.

If apes rely on social intelligence, wolves rely on mechanical intelligence, and in ways that didn’t entirely carry through the process of domestication to dogs—did you know a wolf will learn how to open a door more quickly than a dog? Wolves are big on mechanical thinking while dogs accept a more magical form of thought, which he describes in a funny vingette about telephones.

There’s no subterfuge or grudge-holding in the wolf world; I kind of imagine, in reverse anthropomorphous, that Denis Leary would be a wolf. You see what you get, without any bullshit or sugar-coating.

When Brenin was around two months old...Rugger [a pit bull] lost his temper, grabbed Brenin by the neck and pinned him to the ground. Most puppies would have screeched out in shock and fear. Brenin growled. This was not the growl of a puppy, but a deep and calmn and sonorous growl that belied his tender age. That is strength. And that is what I have always tried to carry around with me, and I hope I always will. as an ape, I will fall short of this; but I have an obligation, a moral obligation, never to forget it and to emulate it as far as I can.If I can only be as strong as a two-month-old wolf cub, then I am a soil where moral evil will not grow.

An ape would have scurried away to darkly plot his revenge; to work out ways of manufacturing weakness in those who are stronger than him and who have humiliated him. And when that work is complete, then evil can be done. I am an ape through accident of birth. But in my best moments I am a wolf cub snarling out my defiance as a pit bull has smashed me into the ground. My growl is a recognition that pain is coming, for pain is the nature of life. It is the recognition that I am nothing more than a cub and, at any time, the pit bull of life can snap my neck like a twig. But it is also the will that I won’t back down, no matter what.

When the shit hits the fan, you will believe. When the shit hits the fan, people look for God. When the shit hits the fan, I remember a little wolf cub.

The Philosopher and the Wolf is filled with wonderful vingettes of Rowlands’ years with Brenin, interspersed with various philosophies, among them Sartre and Nietzche, to explain or justify various aspects of taking a wild animal and domesticating him. I’m not entirely sure his justification is 100% solid, but there’s no way I’m taking on a philosopher, who could talk a ring around me and lock me in within five minutes. In the end I'm satisfied Brenin's life was a happy one.

The book comes alive during those remembrances of Brenin, and occasionally falters when the philosophical or scientific sections seem to prattle on. It’s worth the prattling, because at the end the author does reach his point.

I love wolves and the idea of wolves, but this book is not solely for the wolf-obsessed. For the most part it's well-written, although the author's prose during the preface tended toward the purple. But as soon as Chapter One begins, with his bookending of Brenin's death and their first meeting and first hours together, I realized I was crying and laughing almost simultaneously. The lessons Rowlands imparts engross the reader because as all good teachers do, he provides vivid examples to accompany them. Because in the end what leaves the biggest impression for those who cherish animals, whether wild or domesticated, is the impact Brenin left on his brother.

~Laurie

Book Recommendation: How to Talk to a Widower

(I reviewed this book on my blog—Toe in the Water—more than a year ago. Having just recommended it to Lewis today, I thought I'd share the review with you.)

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How to Talk to a Widower

Jonathan Tropper

Fiction

Bantam, $10.20 (trade paperback), 512p, ISBN: 978-0385338912

Also available digitally for Kindle and Nook

If asked for one word to describe Jonathan Tropper's How to Talk to a Widower, I'd choose one I don't throw around lightly: sublime. Devastatingly profane, laugh-out-loud funny, yet surprisingly emotional, it's a book I'm thankful that James at a bookstore lent to me after I heard about it from Laura, who had earlier been told about it by James.

Twenty-nine-year-old Doug Parker is slim and beautiful, and after Hailey, his wife of two years, died in a plane crash he is still so sad that he cannot move on in his life. The monthly column he writes about his inappropriate grief gained him a large magazine following, yet he refuses to follow his agent's advice and write a book out of his experiences that publishers are clamoring to buy. Instead he obsesses over the annoying squirrels who live in the garden of the house he shared with his wife, the house she previously shared with her first husband and their son Russ, now a grieving 15-year-old whose father Hailey realized was banging another woman when she found his snipped pubes in their bathroom trash can.

Women in the tony Westchester neighborhood want to take care of Doug - or sleep with him - while their husbands want to buy him lap dances. But he is forced out of himself by two things: Russ needs him to step up and be a father to him, and his bossy, pregnant twin sister Claire, who's decided to move in after leaving her husband, promises him that if he turns himself over to her, she'll fix him. God knows he needs the help...and can't rely on the rest of his family. His dad, once a prominent doctor, whom he can't remember as ever having hugged him, is becoming lost to dementia while his former actress mother, a cross between Marilyn Truman and Bobbi Adler from Will and Grace, self-medicates.

Meanwhile, his younger sister is about to marry a man she met and schtupped as he was sitting shiva for his dead wife, his twin begins arranging blind dates for him that invariably go badly, and if that weren't enough, he's falling for the temptation of his wife's [married] best friend's ample charms even though the feelings aroused by Russ' beautiful, quirky guidance counselor are anything but curricular. And so he tries to move beyond the anger, sadness, and self-pity overwhelming him, even though he's equally sad that one day, when he's moved on and has a happy new life and family, all he'll have of Hailey are minor memories.

Despite his being totally fucked up, Doug Parker is an appealing hero. Here's a guy who never believed he'd end up with a woman like Hailey, a guy who's smart - well, a smart-ass, anyway - funny, and a keen observer of human nature. He may think badly of other people, but he never believes worse about others than he thinks about himself...and how attractive is that? Though his relatives are not as fully rendered, all are well drawn, and a few scenes, involving either his father or his step-son, are stand-outs. While the story does veer toward the melodramatic near the end, all can be forgiven because two of those terrific scenes occur as a result.

Jonathan Tropper doesn't write absurdist fiction, but it's high praise indeed that How to Talk to a Widower reminds me in some ways of Christopher Moore's marvelous A Dirty Job. Both authors created hilarity from the dark premise of a beloved wife's death. Both authors appeal to those of us who are "wordies," readers who enjoy the use of language itself, but Moore's novel, while it does have moments of poignance, wasn't written to provoke the same feelings of tenderness Tropper achieves in his pathos-filled comedy. Inappropriate it may be, but brilliantly, funnily so. Thank you, James, for lending me your copy.

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Although I've not yet had the chance to read it, Tropper's 2009 release, This is Where I Leave You, received terrific reviews. And, because I mentioned a book by Christopher Moore, in a few days I'll post a review of one of my favorites from him as well. While my absolute favorite is A Dirty Job, its premise may be a little too black comedy-ish for you—the fun starts when a man's wife dies in childbirth...really, it does!—so I'll be talking about Lamb instead. I've recommended it with universal success to family (it's now one of Harold's favorite books, according to his Facebook page when last I checked, and Lewis' daughter Melissa also loved it), friends, and work colleagues.

~Laurie

Book Recommendation: Time is a River

Time is a River

Mary Alice Monroe

Fiction

Pocket, $7.99 (paperback), 512p, ISBN: 978-1439141779

Gallery, $15.00 (trade paperback), 400p, ISBN: 978-1416546641

Also available digitally for Kindle and Nook

The road to recovery for Mia Landan, a cancer survivor, is beautifully told by Mary Alice Monroe in the backdrop of the North Carolina mountains. During Mia’s cancer therapy she is introduced to fly fishing as a means of helping in the recovery process. Her husband, unable to cope with the inevitable changes that occur with chemotherapy and the results of surgery, files for divorce.

In her attempt to heal and recover not only from her cancer and bodily disfigurement, but also from the abandonment of her husband, she turns to Bella Carson, who runs the Fly Fishing for Recovery program. Bella provides Mia the opportunity to stay in her mountain retreat as a means of getting away from the raw memories of her Charleston, South Carolina life.

The rustic lodging accommodations hold clues to the mystery, intrigue, awakening spirit and recovery of what was thought to have been lost forever. Throughout her journey in the idyllic setting of the mountains, she grows to understand the magical allure of fly fishing. The book could have easily been prefaced by the pen of George Mendoza in his poem Secret Places of Trout Fishermen:

When I wade into a steam fishing for a trout, I feel as though I am entering another part of my soul. As I watch the early lights flower in the shadows, I know that I have come to the stream seeking more, much more, than the catching of trout.

Mia’s search for her soul uncovers a mystery of times past, and in her pursuit, finds more, much more. This beautifully written book is easy to read and contains many passages that you will no doubt want to dog-ear for those times when you need to seek what is truly important in life.

~Lewis

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P.S. from Laurie: Earlier this spring I began to recommend books for Lewis, and knew he'd love this one. In an email to me after reading it, he thanked me for suggesting a book he would "not soon forget," adding that it touched him emotionally as a result of the author's writing, which "flowed like a stream." He added that the fly fishing premise would captivate those like him who "partake in that quest for inner peace," and he found himself "taken back to moments I will never forget as she so eloquently painted the idyllic setting of the stream coursing thru the seasonal forest."

Immediately upon receiving Lewis' email, I suggested to him other, even more spectacular Mary Alice Monroe books, who lovers of Southern Fiction are sure to enjoy. They are, in order of terrifitude (the first two sit on my all-time keeper shelf while the third is on a par with Time is a River):

Sweetgrass Stand-alone

The Beach House #1 in duo

Swimming Lessons #2 in duo

Book Recommendation: When We Danced on Water

When We Danced on Water

Evan Fallenberg

Fiction

Harper Perennial, $14.99, 256p, ISBN: 978-0062033321

Also available digitally for Kindle and Nook

From the publisher: At eighty-five, Teo is ready to retire from the bombast and romance of life as one of the world’s most influential choreographers. But when he meets Vivi, a fortyish waitress at a Tel Aviv café, the fires of his youth flare back to life—his passion for a woman’s touch, his long-buried anguish at his wartime experiences, and his complex engagement with dance. Vivi’s life will change, too, as the warmth of Teo’s affection counterbalances her harrowing time as an Israeli soldier in an illicit relationship. For both, their investment in art, and indeed in life itself, will reawaken as the ghosts of their suppressed pasts—from Warsaw to Copenhagen, Berlin to Tel Aviv—cry out for forgiveness and healing.

With lustrous prose capturing the grit and fury of history and the breathtaking power of passion, When We Danced on Water is a compelling novel of intimacy and identity, art and ambition, and how love can truly transcend tragedy.

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Evan Fallenberg's When We Danced on Water is my favorite book so far in 2011, and the best work of fiction I've read in nearly a year. As a professional critic, I read a great deal, and as a result it's rare that I love a book. I love this one, and it's a good fit for a family of Jews because both protagonists live in Israel. That's not the reason for my strong recommendation, though, which instead derives from Fallenberg's elegant prose and precise writing. That precision allows him to write with great fluidity, and to create out of a character-driven story a emotionally gripping narrative. I've already written about the book on my personal blog, and rather than trying to paraphrase myself, let me simply share an excerpt:

The book features an 85-year-old choreographer, so indulge my using that as a metaphor for Fallenberg's writing. Just as a choreographer can capture the fluidity and emotionality of a piece of music and dance, so does this author. Just as a dance features moments of different tempos and varies in boldness and strength, so does Fallenberg write with a pin-point focus, creating a similar fluidity and elegance.

In a couple of scenes his lead character explains how he sees and feels music in his head. While a beautiful concept, it did not fit my experience of music. I wanted needed to understand it better because it was conveyed with such beauty. As music is so integral to his being, I read those passages aloud to my husband, who seemed surprised when I asked if he understood what Fallenberg's character was trying to explain. "Of course," he said matter-of-factly, as though everybody experienced music in that way.

From the publisher's description one might assume that the book focuses on a May-December romance. It doesn't. Fallenberg's story is rich in history and art, pulling readers into the emotionality of obsession, tragedy, and—eventually—hope. When We Danced on Water offers an intelligent, evocative, and altogether beautiful reading experience. I hope you'll sit down with it, then share your thoughts and feelings with other family members.

~Laurie

Welcome!

Welcome to the Joseph Benjamin family blog. The look, feel, and purpose of this blog is quite fluid. My hope is that as additional family members join me in authoring and perhaps administering it, the blog will fulfill multiple needs.

My name is Laurie Gold. If I've not yet friended you on Facebook or didn't meet you at the family get-together last month in Rhode Island, I am married to Harold Gold, who is one of Emily Gold's four sons with Sammy Gold. Emily's father was Jacob Gold, the eldest son of Joseph Benjamin and his second wife Emma.

I am a writer and critic, and for more than a dozen years I've reviewed fiction and genre fiction for Publishers Weekly magazine. In addition, I've blogged for years and until the end of 2008, published an influential book website that now continues on without me. Until recently I also worked as a part-time bookseller at a local Barnes & Noble, where I discovered my "savant-like" skill in matching books to readers. If any of you would like for me to recommend specific books just for you, . I've already successfully recommended a few books to my brother-in-law Lewis; I hope to convince him to write up one he particularly liked for this blog.

In addition to my PW gig, earlier this year I began to write for a blog hosted by Macmillan publishers (Farrar, Straus & Giroux, Henry Holt, St Martin's Press, Tor, Forge). It's a genre-driven blog with a pop culture sensibility. Unless you read romance or urban fantasy (that's vampires and werewolves and whatnot to the uninitiated) and have a tolerance for "smexy," you probably wouldn't enjoy Heroes & Heartbreakers.

I hope to put my skill set to good use in administering this blog. Please feel free to participate in whatever way may work for you. Check out the lay-out and see if there are any widgets you'd like added. To kick things off, I've started a blogroll with a link to my personal blog (it's called Toe in the Water); please help me grow the blogroll by sending me links to your own blogs and websites.

Tomorrow I'll be writing about a brand new book that I cannot recommend strongly enough. See you then.

~Laurie