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Book Review: The Brides of Rollrock Island by Margo Lanagan

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Book Review: The Brides of Rollrock Island by Margo Lanagan

I’ve been a bit in awe of Margo Lanagan ever since reading her story collection Black Juice. Regular readers of my blog will know that I have an aversion to short stories; no matter how well written, I get antsy and never quite make it through an entire book of stories, at least not without a lot of hair-pulling. Not so with Black Juice; I was captivated, start to finish, by the author’s language and the mood she creates. The lead story in Black Juice, “Singing My Sister Down”, has to be one of the saddest and most matter-of-factly tragic stories I’ve ever encountered. There’s also a very odd story told from the perspective of elephants, but that’s okay… it was weird but it worked.

I’ve been eagerly awaiting the publication of The Brides of Rollrock Island for some months now, and was delighted to finally get my hands on a copy. The verdict? In short, well worth the wait.

The Brides of Rollrock Island is a novel — which often feels more like a collection of linked stories — about the odd lives of the people of windswept, sea-battered Rollrock Island. Generations gone by, legend has it, the men of the island would take sea-wives, women called forth from the sea, leaving behind their true forms as seals in order to live and love among men. Children grow up hearing whispers of these lovely women, but it’s so long ago as to be remembered only by the great-grandparents among the town.

Into this small, isolated island community is born a homely little girl named Misskaella, youngest daughter of the rather large Prout family. Misskaella is valued by no one, considered odd and ugly, and grows up realizing that the men and women of the island either scorn or pity her. Yet Misskaella has one thing that no one else does — the magic to call to the seals. Misskaella revives the island’s past by bringing forth a sea-wife for one young man of the town. The woman is ethereally beautiful — graceful, slender, with large dark eyes and silky black hair. By comparison, the other women of Rollrock appear frowzy and rough. The men are enchanted, and bit by bit, the island is emptied as the womenfolk, deserted in favor of the sea-wives, leave the island. The men of Rollrock shower Misskaella with treasures and provide her with a place of honor in the town, and in return, she makes sure that they have lovely sea-wives to marry and to provide them with sons.

The men and boys treat their women (the mams, as the boys call them) with veneration and tender care, never losing their fascination with the women’s gentle beauty and fragility. And the women love their husbands and sons, without doubt, yet they pine for the sea and the world that they lost.

Did Misskaella bless the men of Rollrock Island with true love? Or did she exact a torturous revenge upon all the island folks by gifting them with love that must inevitably lead to pain?

It’s hard to describe just how strange and beautiful is the language of The Brides of Rollrock Island. Margo Lanagan’s words twist and cut, caress and murmur. She evokes the crash of the sea, the pervasive smell of the ocean air, the natural wonders of the island and the sea:

And down the cliff we went. It was a poisonous day. Every now and again the wind would take a rest from pressing us to the wall, and try to pull us off it instead. We would grab together and sit then, making a bigger person’s weight that it could not remove. The sea was gray with white dabs of temper all over it; the sky hung full of ragged strips of cloud.

Ms. Lanagan use the first person plural throughout; the narrative is full of what “we” did and how “we” felt, creating with the very words a sense of tight-knit community and insularity. Her odd vernacular seems particularly suited to this island of outcasts and loners, and her writing creates its own spell throughout the book.

The Brides of Rollrock Island is not a typical romance or fantasy, not a supernatural love story or thriller. This is a book of magical power and grace, of tragedy and sorrow as well as love, filled with lyrical writing unlike most anything on bookstore shelves today. Don’t miss it.

 

 

It’s Friday! It’s Friday!

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Upon waking up this morning and feeling very giddy about the fact that Friday has finally arrived after an excruciatingly long workweek, my first thoughts naturally turned to books. I wondered — have I ever read a book with the word Friday in its title?

I couldn’t come up with any off the top of my head, but a quick perusal of my Goodreads shelves reveals that I have, indeed, read exactly one Friday book, entitled… wait for it… Friday. Herewith, a salute to Friday books:

Friday by Robert A. Heinlein (1982)

My one and only Friday book, read so long ago, in the dark days of the 1980s, that I can barely remember the plot — although I do recall enjoying it quite a bit. I was on a mini-Heinlein bender in those days, and read this one right after discovering I Will Fear No Evil and Stranger In A Strange Land.

The description on Amazon is lamentably brief and not terribly helpful:

Engineered from the finest genes, and trained to be a secret courier in a future world, Friday operates over a near-future Earth, where chaos reigns. Working at Boss’s whimsical behest she travels from far north to deep south, finding quick, expeditious solutions as one calamity after another threatens to explode in her face….

Still, I seem to remember that it was quite fun to read, brimming with typical Heinlein wit and humor. Maybe not his finest, but I think fans of ’80s sci-fi will have a good time with Friday.

A quick search reveals a few other promising Friday titles:

The Friday Night Knitting Club by Kate Jacobs (2007)

From Booklist:

Georgia Walker’s entire life is wrapped up in running her knitting store, Walker and Daughter, and caring for her 12-year-old daughter, Dakota. With the help of Anita, a lively widow in her seventies, Georgia starts the Friday Night Knitting Club, which draws loyal customers and a few oddballs. Darwin Chiu, a feminist grad student, believes knitting is downright old-fashioned, but she’s drawn to the club as her young marriage threatens to unravel. Lucie, 42, a television producer, is about to become a mother for the first time–without a man in her life. Brash book editor KC finds her career has stalled unexpectedly, while brilliant Peri works at Walker and Daughter by day and designs handbags at night. Georgia gets her own taste of upheaval when Dakota’s father reappears, hoping for a second chance. The yarn picks up steam as it draws to a conclusion, and an unexpected tragedy makes it impossible to put down. Jacobs’ winning first novel is bound to have appeal among book clubs.

Oh, and it’s a series. A series about knitting. Okaaaaaay…

Moving on, a non-fiction title that I know has a lot of fans and followers:

Friday Night Lights: A Town, A Team, And A Dream by H. G. Bissinger (1990)

I didn’t read the book; I didn’t watch the TV series. I understand both were great.

From Amazon:

Secular religions are fascinating in the devotion and zealousness they breed, and in Texas, high school football has its own rabid hold over the faithful. H.G. Bissinger, a Pulitzer Prize-winning journalist, enters into the spirit of one of its most fervent shrines: Odessa, a city in decline in the desert of West Texas, where the Permian High School Panthers have managed to compile the winningest record in state annals. Indeed, as this breathtaking examination of the town, the team, its coaches, and its young players chronicles, the team, for better and for worse, is the town; the communal health and self-image of the latter is directly linked to the on-field success of the former. The 1988 season, the one Friday Night Lights recounts, was not one of the Panthers’ best. The game’s effect on the community–and the players–was explosive. Written with great style and passion, Friday Night Lights offers an American snapshot in deep focus; the picture is not always pretty, but the image is hard to forget.

After reading The Blind Side by Michael Lewis (before it was a movie, thank you very much!), I got a lot of mileage out of shocking the people who know me well by announcing that I actually read a football book. I really should read Friday Night Lights, although I’m afraid my friends will start to worry if I read two sports book in my lifetime.

Friday’s Child by Georgette Heyer (1944)

From Amazon:

When the incomparable Miss Milbourne spurns the impetuous Lord Sherington’s marriage proposal (she laughs at him—laughs!) he vows to marry the next female he encounters, who happens to be the young, penniless Miss Hero Wantage, who has adored him all her life. Whisking her off to London, Sherry discovers there is no end to the scrapes his young, green bride can get into, and she discovers the excitement and glamorous social scene of the ton. Not until a deep misunderstanding erupts and Sherry almost loses his bride, does he plumb the depths of his own heart, and surprises himself with the love he finds there.

I’ve never read anything by Georgette Heyer, but I know she has legions of adoring fans. For me personally, I think this would go on the “some day when I really have nothing else to read” pile, but I know there are a lot of avid readers who’d want to gobble this one up right away.

Black Friday by James Patterson (1986)

From Publishers Weekly:

While Patterson’s thriller is slightly out-of-date with its Cold War setting, it remains dramatically contemporary in its vision of a stock market thrown into chaos when a group of saboteurs blows up several Wall Street institutions. Arch Carroll, head of the CIA’s antiterrorist division, and Caitlin Dylan, director of enforcement for the SEC, team up professionally, and later romantically, to locate the Wall Street terrorists before they strike again. Arch travels to Paris and back, as he finds himself on the trail of former colonel David Hudson and his ragtag band of vengeance-seeking Vietnam veterans.

So not for me. But hey, it takes all types, right?

Freaky Friday by Mary Rodgers (1972)

From Amazon:

Annabel thinks her mom has the best life. If she were a grown-up, she could do whatever she wanted Then one morning she wakes up to find she’s turned into her mother . . . and she soon discovers it’s not as easy as it looks.

I can’t believe that I’ve never read this! I’ve seen the Jodie Foster and Lindsay Lohan versions of the movie, both cute in their own ways. I wonder if this book holds up, or if would seem hideously old-fashioned for kids today?

Friday Nights by Joanna Trollope (2008)

From Publishers Weekly:

When a British retiree invites two young single mothers from the neighborhood to her flat, a Friday night tradition begins. As their klatch widens, Trollope’s memorable characters do more than just represent varying female predicaments: they develop as rich individuals who come to triumph over their pasts. Paula has a wary relationship with the married man who fathered their son, Toby: she must move on, yet stay in touch for Toby’s sake. Struggling Lindsay was widowed before she gave birth, while her sister, Jules, is a careless aspiring nightclub DJ with a wild streak. Independent, put-together Blaise contrasts starkly with her often bedraggled business partner, Karen, who barely manages her role as mother and breadwinner. And then there is Eleanor, the catalyst for the gatherings, a no-nonsense older woman who, though full of wisdom and spunk, keeps her thoughts to herself unless asked. When a new man enters Paula’s life, Trollope (Second Honeymoon) masterfully shows how work and romance can tip the scales in female friendships. The result is a careful and compelling examination of one man’s insidious effect on a group of female friends, as memorable as it is readable.

Sounds a little Jane Austen Book Club-y, but I’ve read other novels by Joanna Trollope and found her writing sharp, insightful, and sensitive.

And my final addition for this salute to Fridays:

Friday The Rabbi Slept Late by Harry Kemelman (1964)

From Goodreads:

Rabbi David Small, the new leader of Barnard’s Crossing’s Jewish community, can’t even enjoy his Sabbath without things getting stirred up in a most unorthodox manner: It seems a young nanny has been found strangled, less than a hundred yards from the Temple’s parking lot — and all the evidence points to the Rabbi.

Add to that the not-so-quiet rumblings of his disgruntled congregation, and you might say our inimitable hero needs a miracle from a Higher Source to save him….

It gave me a nostalgic little giggle to see this book pop up in my search. I remember seeing my parents read this and others in the series when I was a kid. A mystery series with a rabbi as the hero? Sounded kind of goofy to me at the time, but based on reader reviews, these books are both award-winning and well-loved by their readers.

So there you have it: Science fiction, thriller, sports, contemporary fiction, Regency-era historical romance, children’s fiction, and a crime-solving rabbi — something for everyone.

Enjoy your Fridays, whatever you may choose to read!

And hey, if you’ve got an exciting book underway for the long weekend, do tell — leave a comment and let us all know what you’re reading this Labor Day weekend.

Book Review: Some Kind of Fairy Tale by Graham Joyce

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Book Review: Some Kind of Fairy Tale by Graham Joyce

Fifteen-year-old Tara Martin disappeared without a trace on a beautiful spring day when the bluebells were all in bloom. Twenty years later, on Christmas Day, Tara knocks on her parents’ door, still looking like a teenager and with a strange tale to tell. Tara’s reappearance causes relief, joy, and turmoil for the family she left behind, as well as for her former boyfriend Richie, whose life went completely off the rails after he was accused of foul plan in Tara’s disappearance.

Tara’s return is not, perhaps, as she expected:

Twenty years is, after all, a long time. We are not the same people we were. Old friends, lovers, even family members: they are strangers who happen to wear a familiar face.

Tara tells an impossible tale, of a romantic man on horseback, travels to a different world, and what to her was a six-month stay in a land both strange and beautiful. Tara’s brother Peter is determined to figure out the truth of what happened to Tara, and enlists the aid of his wife, his former best friend Richie, and a retired psychiatrist to sift through the conflicting threads of her story.

Graham Joyce is a gifted writer whose words and tempo are lilting and lovely. He has a talent for taking the every day and making it mysterious, adding a rhythm to the routine occurrences within a family that bring in the larger world and its unknowability. Characters are sharply drawn and defined, including Peter, a tired but devoted family man, passionately in love with his wife, hurt by the loss of his friend, joyful yet resentful of Tara’s return; Mrs. Larwood, the elderly neighbor who may in fact have her own tale to tell; and Richie, stuck in the past, alone and loveless, having put his life on hold once Tara disappeared.

I had expected Some Kind of Fairy Tale to be a more or less traditional tale of a mortal crossing over into the land of the fae. As it turns out, it is and it isn’t. The changing points of view within the story heighten the mystery, and make it impossible to come to any one particular conclusion — although the end of the story certainly made one explanation seem more likely than others.

Each chapter begins with a quote, and I found these entirely delightful, so much so that I’d like to collect them all and refer back to them time and again. A favorite: “When I examine myself and my methods of thought, I come to the conclusion that the gift of fantasy has meant more to me than any talent for abstract, positive thinking.” (Albert Einstein)

The author’s previous novel, The Silent Land, is one of the most exquisite pieces of fiction I’ve ever read. Some Kind of Fairy Tale did not have the same impact on me and I wouldn’t rate it quite as highly, but it is quite lovely in its own right and I can recommend it whole-heartedly.

Graham Joyce warns us of the shifting nature of the narrative and the truths contained therein early on:

Of course, everything depends on who is telling the story. It always does.

It’s entirely possible that I don’t entirely understand what really transpired in this haunting tale. Then again, maybe we’ll all understand it differently, and I think that’s as it should be.