Tag Archives: Fiction

Delirium, Lauren Oliver #50BookPledge

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In Lauren Oliver’s Delirium, love has been diagnosed as a disease, and everyone is required to undergo the cure when they turn eighteen. When I first heard the premise, my cynical brain immediately thought it was brilliant. No more Eponine-style romances for me! Thing is, the procedure doesn’t just kill off romantic love. My sister, who also read this book, called it practically a lobotomy, and that’s what it is: the doctors surgically remove every last bit of passion. You will never been heartbroken, but you will also view your friends and children with cold logic (you’ll give your baby milk because he’s hungry and needs food to live, not because you can’t stand to see him cry). You will no longer feel depressed, but you will also never enjoy your hobbies with as much fervour as before. Hana, the best friend of protagonist Lena, tells her early on, “You know you can’t be happy unless you’re unhappy sometimes, right?” And it’s true. Cliches aside, if you remove all violent emotion, you’ll have to remove the good with the bad.

Unlike Hana, however, Lena can’t wait for the procedure. When she was very young, her mother committed suicide because she was too infected by amor deliria nervosa to be cured. All Lena can remember is her mother laughing and dancing with her (then immediately checking to see if anyone had noticed; too much laughter after all is a symptom of delirium) and her mother fiercely telling her, “I love you. Remember. They cannot take it.” Lena is heartbroken by her mother’s death, and looks forward to being cured and freed from all that pain. I love that the heroine begins the novel looking forward to the procedure, and horrified whenever Hana makes negative comments about it. My natural reaction, once I found out the procedure destroyed all passion and not just romantic love, was to wonder how anyone could think that was a good idea. Lena’s desire to forget a completely different kind of pain made sense to me, and showed me how this procedure could be seen as a good thing, even by intelligent, non-brainwashed-drone individuals like Lena.

But Lena falls in love. Only three months before her procedure, she meets a boy named Alex, who has the scars of the cured, but whom Lena saw laughing when something messes up an evaluation interview. I love how she falls in love with him not just because of his good looks (though he is hot), but because of the tremor of laughter in his voice, and the constant look of amusement in his eyes. In a world where serenity is prized and passion is feared, happiness is enticing. Alex too, it turns out, first develops a crush on Lena when he sees her acting silly during a run — as Lena discovers during class picture day, even her ordinary looks are transformed into great beauty when she’s really happy. It’s wonderful seeing this tale from Lena’s perspective — I worry with her when Hana sneaks off to attend an underground party (with real music! Not the government regulated chipper tunes!), I feel for her whenever she remembers her mom, and I get just as giddy as she does whenever she meets up with Alex. She still worries about ending up like her mother, and I love what Alex tells her about the downside of the cure: “That’s when you really lose people, you know. When the pain passes.” I think of when my grandfather died, how my biggest fear is forgetting how he looks, or how he sounds. Pain sucks, but Alex is right; pain also keeps the past alive.

As you can probably tell, I love this book. It’s an emotional ride, which reminds me of how repressing emotions actually ends up making them burst out even more violently. I love how it goes beyond just a romance, and deals with the value of passion in so many things — friendship, family, music, hobbies, and yes, love.

I remember how violently I felt about things when I was younger, and how much more practical I am today. I remember how, when I was young, an older cousin told me never to fall in love, because it hurt too much, and I remember how I, fuelled by Disney movies mostly, vowed never ever to turn away from love, because I’d rather be hurt than block myself from feeling. I remember changing my mind later on, and chalking it up to maturity. Delirium is about a surgical procedure that removes strong emotions, but I wonder, though not as extreme, do we all subject ourselves to a similar procedure in the name of growing up?

This book will make you believe in love again. At the very least, it will make you realize why numbing yourself against pain, while tempting, can never work in the long term. Delirium ends with a bang, which actually reminded me of a Le Carre novel (I can’t say which, as that would totally be a spoiler). It’s a wonderful, exciting book that I hope will touch you like it has touched me.

By the way, if you plan on getting this book (as you should!), just to let you know, I found out on the Harper Collins Canada website that Delirium: The Special Edition will be published July 20, 2011. It’ll have new cover art, a Q&A with author Lauren Oliver and an exclusive excerpt from her next book! Pretty cool, eh? (Thanks to Harper Collins Canada’s Savvy Reader for letting me know details about Delirium: The Special Edition!)

Ten Thousand Saints, Eleanor Henderson #50BookPledge

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Eleanor Henderson’s Ten Thousand Saints hooked me from the first line: “‘Is it dreamed?’ Jude asked Teddy. ‘Or dreamt?’” Not sure why I liked it so much, and I certainly don’t really care about the answer, but I do want to find out more about someone who would ask that question. I also love the way Henderson describes Teddy as wearing “opalescent, fat-tongued Air Jordans, both toes bandaged with duct tape” and Jude as “the one in Converse high-tops, the stars Magic Markered into pentagrams.” Character and time are established with such vivid, concrete detail, and there’s something endearing about the image of Magic Markered pentagrams and duct taped toes.

It’s no secret that Teddy’s about to die; the very first page situates the story “on the last morning of 1987 and the last morning of Teddy’s life.” By the second page, it probably isn’t much of a mystery either how he dies. Adopted by a pair of diehard hippies, Jude grew up taking drugs like other kids take pop, and the novel begins with Jude and Teddy  “celebrating Jude’s sixteenth birthday with the dregs from last night’s bowl.” So when Teddy dies of an overdose, how is a guilt-ridden Jude supposed to cope? He goes to live with his pot-dealing father in New York (he even names his bongs!), and that’s where the story really takes off.

Jude meets Teddy’s half-brother Johnny, who introduces him to straight edge, an underground youth culture that is vehemently against drugs, meat and sex. There’s quite a bit of irony in Jude’s parents shaking their heads and wondering where they’d gone wrong raising a son who now rejects drugs. There’s also quite a bit of wistfulness as Henderson explores the generational gap. Jude’s mother is a sweet, sympathetic character, whose decision at one point to be a part of the gang rather than a mother leads to hurt feelings. I also love how she wonders why her generation’s music about sex and drugs sounded so mellow and peaceful, while her son’s songs about morality and just saying no had to be so angry. Jude’s friend Eliza is such an intriguing character as well — she’s pregnant, and so is forced to grow up quickly (as are Jude and Johnny, who band with her and vow to help support the child), and at the same time, foreshadows a future generational gap that she will face with her own child. Her pregnancy both highlights the urgency of the trio figuring themselves and their lives out, and also expands the story of three teenagers into a bit of a family saga.

There is so much I can say about this book! It’s the kind of story that builds slowly, drawing you in closer and closer as you keep reading, until it ends and I, at least, was left with thinking, “Wow! What an ending.” I love the way Henderson develops her characters. I didn’t grow up in the 80s, and straight edge culture isn’t something I’m familiar with. But I was definitely drawn in by all these complex characters, who are all dealing in their own way with Teddy’s death and their potential role in it, and trying to figure out who they are and who they want to become. I just made the book sound incredibly cheesy, but it’s not; Henderson’s narration is subtle, humorous and heartfelt.

I love the way Henderson describes things: “he placed his finger under her chin and tilted her head slowly, slowly up until her eyes met his, the way a parent will prepare a child for a reprimand, or the way a man will prepare a woman for a kiss.” Tender, and what a spot-on image parallel! Or: “‘It’s a nice face,’ she said. Nice. It was so much more than nice, but she couldn’t think of a better word. You didn’t call a boy beautiful, not a boy who was your husband’s best friend, not a boy who didn’t like girls and who went around picking fights and who you really did think was beautiful.” Again: spot on, with the last phrase.

Saints goes beyond just wonderful characters and descriptions; it encapsulates an entire era — the reaction against the consequences of hippie lifestyles and the realization that, no matter how cool you may be, your children will always seek to differentiate themselves from you. Saints also deals with homosexuality and the advent of the AIDS crisis. I love the way Henderson reveals that a character is gay: “‘You want to know what it feels like? Bein’ with a girl?’ Rooster dropped his hand. ‘It feels like bein’ a fuckin’ coward.’” Bam.

Henderson’s characters feel very, very real, and so does their story. I don’t know if I’d call it a page-turner, but it does make you live in Jude, Eliza and Johnny’s world. To be honest, after the first page, I didn’t really get into it until Teddy died (which, because I glossed over that bit in the first page and didn’t bother to read the plot summary, came as a complete shock to me). But, like I said, it just kept building, and the ending is just wonderfully wistful. Beautiful, wonderful book. Highly recommended.

The Sisters Brothers, Patrick deWitt #50BookPledge

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Quick confession: I’m not a fan of Westerns. So when I say it took me a while to get into Patrick DeWitt’s Sisters Brothers, I think it says a lot more about my personal preference than about the book itself. Wells Tower calls this novel “a masterful, hilarious picaresque,” and it certainly is. Eli and Charlie Sisters have been hired to kill Hermann Kermit Warm, and they travel from Oregon to California to track him down. Along the way, they meet various colourful characters, most of whom freak when they realize they’re meeting the Sisters Brothers, who have quite a reputation for brutal, efficient killing. The journey is filled with gun fights, business negotiations and a quest for gold. Eli, however, is seriously considering quitting the killing gig. While Charlie happily shoots people they meet and looks forward to killing Warm, Eli delights at discovering the benefits of dental hygiene, falls for women with kind eyes, and scouts locations where he and Charlie and settle down and become shopkeepers.

I didn’t really enjoy Part One. I loved the dentist, and laughed at a couple of spots, but mostly it felt too episodic, like TV’s villain-of-the-week turned into character-of-the-chapter. Honestly, again, I think this is because I haven’t really read a Western before; I can imagine fans of Westerns being absolutely delighted. As it was, I have to admit, I kept imagining one of my English professors commenting “This is the classic Shakespearean Fool, who appears senile but speaks the truth,” or “Tub is clearly Eli’s horsey alter ego.” Yes, I am a nerd. Publishers Weekly calls Sisters Brothers “genre-bending,” but despite the heroes being bad guys, I thought it didn’t bend the genre enough to appeal to non-genre fans.

That was Part One, and I’m glad I kept reading. Part Two, where the Sisters Brothers have somewhat settled in California and have come closer to finding Warm, delved much deeper into Eli and Charlie’s characters and their relationship, and I was drawn in. I remember Jeff Lindsay saying that the reason Dexter Morgan is so lovable, despite his psychopathic tendencies, is his sense of humour. Eli’s narration is humorous: “Just your everyday grouping of civilized gentleman, sitting in a round robin to discuss the events of the day with quivering erections.” But what ultimately makes Eli and Charlie lovable is their utter devotion to each other, which becomes progressively more palpable as the book goes on. I found myself cheering out loud when Eli and Charlie use a devious, underhanded trick to win against a group of gunmen, not because it was such a clever trick, but because it showed the brothers perfectly in sync.

There is something endearing about a bad guy who wants to be good, and it’s disturbingly humorous when that bad guy ends up doing bad things anyway and having to justify them to himself afterwards. It’s also quite sad. Eli Sisters is like a gun-toting, lumbering Michael Corleone — whenever he thinks he can escape his life, his devotion to his brother draws him back in. Charlie, while delighted enough to kill anyone else, is also fiercely devoted to his brother, a fact that gets called into question early in the novel yet becomes absolutely certain later on.

I can imagine Sisters Brothers becoming a cult classic. Even in Part One, I could see it becoming an award-winning, blockbuster Coen brothers film. I love Dan Stiles’ cover design for the book; I can totally imagine it on a movie poster, can’t you?

Love Westerns? I think you’ll love this book. Not much of a fan of Westerns? I think the wonderful relationship between Eli and Charlie will hook you, as it did me. I’ve decided to donate my copy to a very good cause. Fellow book blogger and Twitter buddy Colleen is organizing an auction to raise funds for Slave Lake, which was basically destroyed last week. She’s already gotten lots of wonderful bookish donations, and Patrick DeWitt’s Sisters Brothers will be up for bids as well. Great cause, great books… bid on Eli and Charlie’s story here. You can also see a list of all auction items here, or check out the general auction website at http://slavelakebookauction.wordpress.com/.

Book trailer from U.S. publisher Ecco Books: