The Cat's Meow

I'll admit it, I'm forcing myself to write this post tonight.  Y'all are getting a post on a series that I'm a little over halfway through, because I still (yes, still) have not powered my way through Anne Patchett's State of Wonder (don't get me wrong, I'm enjoying it, it's just not a quick read).  So, tonight, I'm going to post about Rita Mae Brown and Sneaky Pie Brown's Mrs. Murphy Mystery Series.  What kind of author is named Sneaky Pie, you ask: a cat!

The Basics
As of May 2011, there are nineteen books in this series.  That's right, 19!  And they're awesome!  The Mrs. Murphy books are cozy mysteries, meaning they're nice and light and fluffy (in this case, literally. Har har). In reading order, the books are (*deep breath*) Wish You Were Here; Rest in Pieces; Murder at Monticello; Pay Dirt; Murder, She Meowed; Murder on the Prowl; Cat on the Scent; Pawing through the Past; Claws and Effect; Catch as Cat Can; The Tail of the Tip-off; Whisker of Evil; Cat's Eyewitness; Sour Puss; Puss in Cahoots; The Purrfect Murder; Santa Clawed; Cat of the Century; and Hiss of Death.

Got that?  As you can see, the majority of the titles include a cat-themed pun, which naturally appeals to my cheesy little heart.  The books follow the adventures of heroine, Mary Minor "Harry" Harristeen, the local postmistress of tiny, rural Crozet, Virginia.  Harry has a sense of curiosity that rivals any feline, and is routinely involving herself in mysteries that crop up in the area.  Fortunately, she is also aided by her pet tiger-cat (read Tabby) Mrs. Murphy and corgi Tucker and their numerous animal cohorts.  The two intrepid detectives are determined to protect their human, helping Harry along in solving mysteries as best they can.

The Books

Of course, the heavy feline presence throughout the books appeals to my cat-loving nature, but these books are so much more than just warm and fuzzy.  First and foremost, they are excellently written, well-plotted murder-mysteries.  The story moves along at a galloping pace as the characters (animal and human alike) rush to find the solutions to the puzzle with which they are presented.  While following the basic tenants of mystery writing - introducing the murderous character early on and dropping clues along the way - the stories are rarely predictable.  While I can usually (though not always) solve the mystery before it's revelation in the book, I always feel a sense of achievement for having done so. Not once have I been disappointed by too easy a solution.  Nor does Brown resort to hiding things from her readers in order to maintain the mystery (a device which I find cheap and annoying).  Everything you need to solve the plot is provided; you just have to follow the clues (and try not to let your dull human senses get in the way, as Mrs. Murphy would caution).

Brown also imbues her novels with a light, witty sense of humor.  This necessarily prevents the stories from becoming overly serious and also combats the potential ridiculousness of highly intelligent animals.  Speaking of whom, I am pleased to report that the animals are completely believable as characters, especially to anyone already inclined to provide pets with a voice (who me?).  The animals are every bit as intelligent as their human counterparts, however, they are still very much animals.  Mrs. Murphy sees the world through a very cat-like perspective, and Tucker is very much a dog. For example, the animals often rely on their sense of smell to help them solve the mystery at hand, a sense that is much more highly utilized by the animal world than the human.  The animals also behave as animals might: tearing through the house in a fits of anger, hunting mice, and begging for scraps from the table.

One of my favorite aspects of the series is the very vivid sense of place and people. As you're reading, you can practically feel your lungs breathing in the air that is Crozet, Virginia.  Brown has clearly rooted her town in a place and history with which she is very familiar.  Readers come away with a sense that this town could really exist, and more so, they come away with a sense of the South and of Virginia.  Brown's characters are also especially well developed (and, really, given the length of the series they'd better be); you come away with a real sense of each recurring character's strengths, weaknesses, wants, needs, etc.  Readers also witness the characters grow over the course of the series, moving through personal trials and reforming opinions.  Brown has created a literary world where readers witness the place and the people change and evolve.  This creates a binding thread that runs throughout the series, connecting readers to each book despite the varied central plots.

And really, what's not to love about a series with a book entitled Whisker of Evil co-authored by cat?

Extras

• Don't forget to visit the author's webpage, filled with fun facts about the author and her writings.
• Definitely read her mini autobiography while you're there.  For just a taste of her delightful sense of humor, here's an excerpt: "My entrance occurred on November 28, 1944, and the cats, hounds, and horses of the world rejoiced.  The humans didn't give a damn. What do they know?"
• And of course the site for the Mrs. Murphy books themselves.
• Because credit must go where it is due, here's a photo of both authors, most importantly, the illustrious Sneaky Pie:

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There's a Bad Moon on the Rise

To continue with the Fever series by Karen Marie Moning, this post will focus on the second and third books: Bloodfever and Faefever.  I'm still very much enjoying the series, as immersed as ever. The great thing about a series when blogging is that it provides the opportunity to expand beyond the basics of what makes a book good.  I can provide more depth and expound on themes and details.  This nicely mirrors what I love about series: the depth of world and character afforded by multiple books.

The Basics
Moning, Karen Marie. Bloodfever. New York: Delacorte P., 2007. Print.

Moning, Karen Marie. Faefever. New York: Delacorte P., 2008. Print.

Since my last post, I have learned that Moning (which rhymes with awning, not moaning, sorry Mom) is contracted to write at least three more books in the Fever series and is also currently working on a graphic novel featuring Mac (So fun stuff, yesh?). In these two novels, Mac descends even further down the rabbit hole, growing stronger as she goes.  However, despite Mac's character growth, the books are definitely a descent into to some quite dark depths. As of the end of Faefever, Mac is in one of the darker, more disturbing places I've had a book take me.  So much so that I am still not sure what I thought about the process that took me there.

The Books
In these next two books, Moning maintains many of the same themes that made Darkfever so addictive a read.  The humor that runs throughout the books continues to startle laughs out of me; a rarity since most books only succeed at producing a smirk accompanied by an internal giggle.  Whether Mac is getting caught dancing along to CCR's "Bad Moon Rising" wearing a light up helmet (which I swear fits perfectly in the plot) or is sneakily getting the better of Barrons only to have the rug swept out from under her feet in spectacular fashion (FF 131, 220), both Bloodfever and Faefever are laugh-out-loud funny.  And, given the ever-strengthening darkness that fills most of the pages, Moning's injection of humor provides much needed doses of comic relief, without which the books may well become too hopeless to be enjoyable.  Since maintaining hope in the face of fear is one of Moning's chief themes, her use of humor enables her to go beyond keeping hope in her characters and helps instill it in her audience.

While we're on the topic of themes, one of the most engaging in the Fever series so far has been the mystery behind Barrons's character. This particular mystery draws the reader's curiosity and keeps the audience constantly questing for additional information (especially if you're possessed by an insatiable need to know everything. Down Hermione!). Moning gives Mac just enough to make her think she might be about to discover a part of Barrons's true nature before she finds herself back at square one.  For example, Mac, being quite sure of herself and having provided a fairly convincing argument to her audience, believes she has proof that Barrons is actually an evil Unseelie.  While a careful reader will have found all sorts of holes in this theory (again showing Mac is not perfect), I still read with bated breath as Mac handed Barrons the spear (untouchable by Unseelie) only to have him hold it without flinching (FF 215-16).  Moning tantalizes us with just enough new information to keep us interested and guessing, without enough to really give us an answer.  Thus, we may discover Barrons is centuries old without learning even the significance of that information, and so we remain absorbed.

One of the more disturbing themes that runs throughout the series is that of consent, or rather the lack thereof.  Mac is frequently confronted by situations that hinder or remove her will.  At times this appears in the form of one of her supposed allies, a fae prince, attempting to control her by inciting all-encompassing lust (pick a spot; this happens repeatedly). At other times, Mac is being tested by her archenemy who uses Druid "Voice" to override her will with his own and force her to follow.  Whatever the cause, each time this occurs Mac overcomes either through rescue or regaining her will on her own.  This vulnerability makes it easy for a female reader to identify, since issues of will seems to be a timeless problem faced by women.  Nevertheless, I was a bit weirded out by this repeated theme, especially given its close association to mostly the vaguely sexual moments in the novels. But perhaps that's a good thing, and we need to be made to squirm a bit; regardless, these moments are less about entertainment and more about growth.  My unease turned out to be the result of well-crafted foreshadowing on Moning's part, since by the end of Faefever, Mac has fallen into a terrifying space where not only does she lack will, the idea of will holds no meaning for her at all. Disturbing, yes? But entirely necessary.  Moning has made it clear that these books are not about darkness but light; I suspect we'll appreciate that light much more after the dark place Moning takes us to.

Moning weaves plot threads that hold throughout her series rather than dropping off with each book, creating a really cohesive feel between the novels.  This is helped along by her pacing, which stays consistent within each book.  Moning moves her readers along in a book at a steady pace with occasional dips and spikes before dropping us off a sheer cliff face at the climax.  Rather than a steady build up before letting us roll down hill, Moning opts for a more dramatic plummet, making for an exciting finale.  I particularly like that this drop is typically followed by a chapter of recovery that wraps up nicely while leading into the next installment.

After three books (which despite the pacing of the blog, I finished in about 4 days), I'm still every bit as eager to continue in the series.  Thank goodness she's contracted for more!

Extras

• In case you're wondering about that aforementioned book contract, try visiting this forum on Moning's website.  The forum itself is super spiffy, since Moning herself seems to be pretty involved.
• Zomg! Moning has a BLOG! Right here on blogspot.
• Last but not least, I direct you to the Fever series fan site Sidhe-Seers Inc. (Though the character who runs said organization in the books is loathsome so far.)

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You Give Me . . . Fever?

Today's book is Darkfever by Karen Marie Moning.  I have been tempted once again by the siren call of a series.  There's just something about being able to immerse myself in a fictional world, not once but repeatedly, that holds and almost endless appeal for me.  I'm already looking forward to the next book (I already have all 5 stacked on my coffee table fresh from the library) so much that I can hardly force myself to write this before moving on.  Ironically, this is a blog post that almost wasn't, since I was initially put off of the Fever series by repeated descriptions and classifications of the books as Romances. (Blegh. Yucky!) But after reading a more detailed summary, I decided that these books might be for me after all.

The Basics
Moning, Karen Marie. Darkfever. Detroit: Thorndike P., 2006. Print.

Karen Marie Moning a #1 New York Times Best-Selling Author is the author of two successful series and the recipient of the RITA award. The Highlander series, which I am given to understand feature time-travel and ruggedly handsome Scotsman, are a set of paranormal romances.  Her second series, which we'll be concerned with here in my blog, begins with Darkfever, an Urban Fantasy set in Ireland.  In this book, our intrepid heroine travels to Ireland to avenge the death of her murdered sister, discovering in the process a world filled with dangerous fae and her own recently uncovered power to see such creatures.

The Book

So, funny story, my mother was over at my apartment last night with my Aunt, who was looking through my book stack.  My mom saw Darkfever sitting on the table; the author's last name is the most prominent thing on the cover.  She saw this and exclaimed, "that's not how you spell it!" To which I replied, "Mom! That's her name!  She can spell it however she likes." She had mistaken it for the book's title and thought it should have been "moaning," which given the cover art on this edition* would, indeed, seem apt (see extras).

Which brings me to my single gripe (that is no fault of the book): why was this billed as a romance in some places?  Is it because Moning is well-known for romance?  Do romances simply sell?  Moning's website, certainly doesn't caste the book this way; there it is billed as Urban Fantasy, a category that makes much more since.  But perhaps I am in the minority when I am repulsed by heaving bosoms being ripped from their bodices by the burly Brawny man.  Yes, I realize that not all romance novels fit that bill and some are quite good fiction, but that stereotype was roughly how I first saw this book described. I suppose I am indignant because I came so close to missing out on a truly wonderful and absorbing book. According to the Romance Writers of America website "all romances contain a central love story," which was conspicuously absent from Darkfever.  Although, I suppose there is potential for one to develop over the course of the series.  I must admit to some confusion about the romance genre.  Tons of books feature a romance but are categorized as mysteries, fantasy, or just plain fiction.  I guess I just don't see the point, and maybe more research is in order.  Ultimately, I like my books with plenty of plot and character with just a smidge of romance, like a condiment, to add a little extra spice.

But enough about genre, because this book is far too good to get caught up on that.  For the first time in quite a while, I found myself so completely absorbed in a book that everything around became irrelevant.  Time and being directly addressed were completely ignored. Rather than being able to read while at the same time surfing the net and watching my boyfriend play video games, I was unable to peel my eyes away from the page.

Narrated in first person by the heroine, much of the book relies on character development.  And Mackayla Lane is delightfully flawed.  A tiny bit selfish and initially lacking in motivation, Mac is spunky and full of bluster, and we follow her along as she slowly learns her way around the world she's stumbled into.  Her constant urge to stick her head in the sand and enter a state of denial can be especially frustrating, but it's also what makes her character. As the plot forces her toward a state of enlightenment, we get to watch her character grow, and this makes her entirely believable.  Rather than jumping in with a strong kick-ass heroine who jumps in and out of an unbelievable number of scrapes only to come out scathed but even badassier than before (*cough* AnitaBlake*cough*), we instead have a character whose innocence and capacity for denial starts her from a weak point and we get to see her grow gradually stronger, learning as she goes.

It also helps that Mackayla is highly relatable.  I had my doubts from the moment I first read her name and thought, "Mackayla? Seriously?" However, after a little poking around I discovered that this is an Americanized spelling of the traditionally Irish name, Michaela.  I decided that maybe it might be okay, and I could forget about my associations with that ill-mannered country girl who smacked her mouth loudly as she chewed her gum in 10th grade political science.  Also, the nickname of Mac is way cool. But I digress.  Mac is relatable as a thoroughly modern heroine, who listens to her ipod and can actually use a computer (I'm looking at you Sookie Stackhouse). I also like that she's distinctly southern; being from the South myself, southern heroines hold a special place in my heart.  She comments on such topics as manners and hospitality that leave me giggling: "When I opened my door, I discovered someone had been busy while I'd slept. A bakery bag, a bottled latte, and my luggage were outside my door.  Down South store-bought food outside your bedroom door isn't a treat - it's an insult. . . . Stay out of my kitchen, the bag said, and don't go looking around. Down South it meant, Leave before lunch, preferably now. (161).  The expression of her grief over the loss of her sister also helps make Mackayla a relatable human rather than one-dimensional. Moning depicts this so well that it feels as if it's the expression of real emotion rather than the made up mourning of a non-existent character.

As much as Darkfever relies on Mac's character, it is also driven by plot, particularly mystery.  Jericho Barrons's (stop snorting at the name, please; nah, go ahead) could be accused of being a one-dimensional character, but I would argue otherwise.  His character is instead left intentionally shrouded in mystery, so that the uncovering of tidbits about his character becomes an essential plot element as well. It helps that his physical presence in the book is every bit as vivid for the reader as it is for the characters he interacts with; he exudes energy, brio, and menace.  It is only at the very end of the book that the reader can stop flip-flopping about whether his character is good or not . . . maybe.

And the mystery of Barrons's character is only one of many plot threads that Moning weaves into her story.  We follow Mackayla in her efforts to discover her sister's murderer.  We watch as Mac learns new truths about herself.  We delve into a whole new world right along with her. We doggedly keep following Mac as she traces the whereabouts of ancient Fae relics and ultimately as she discovers herself participating in the beginnings of an underground war.  Fun, right?

The whole book is about discovery, and it drags the reader in, captivating them as much as any Fae. Urban fantasy, with the occasional mirror-fogging scene, Darkfever was a great read.  And now, I'm going to abandon further blogging in favor of the next book!

*Please note my page numbers may seem odd since I'm working from a large print edition as it was the only one in the library when my greedy little paws proceeded to check out the entire series. Heh heh.

Extras

• For more information about the author and/or her series, please consider her website.
• For information on Romance and its sub-genres see the RWA website.
• Looking for name information? Try this webpage.
• This is the picture from the cover of the large print edition my mother saw.  I couldn't get the freaking thing to format properly in the post above, hence it's position down here. *shakes fist at blogger interface*

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Memoirs, Mennonites, and Mmmmmm . . . Borscht!

For my first posting I've selected the book Mennonite in a Little Black Dress: A Memoir of Going Home by Rhoda Janzen.  This is the first nonfiction book I've read in full (and for fun, no less) in quite some time, and, no, all those books from grad school don't count.  Carlyle is many things, but I doubt you could accuse him of being fun.  I thought it would make a fine starting point given that the book a) is fantastic and b) occasionally dedicates some serious focus to food.

The Basics

Janzen, Rhoda. Mennonite in a Little Black Dress: A Memoir of Going Home. New York: Henry Holt and Company, 2009. Print.
(Clearly, MLA citation form has been branded into my brain. I tried to do it differently, but I just couldn't stop twitching.) 
Dr. Janzen, poetess and writer extraordinaire, currently teaches English and Creative Writing at Hope College in Holland, Michigan. Having lived outside the Mennonite community of her childhood for years, she returns home to recover from a rather nasty relationship and a painful car accident.  The book documents her sabbatical spent with family along with other episodes in her life.

The Book
Anywho, the book first caught my eye when I came across the title one day at work.  I'm always somewhat impressed by catchy titles, since naming anything is something I struggle with whenever required (we won't talk about all the titles I went through for this blog.  Lalalalaaaa... I can't heeeear you!). This title packs a lot of punch.  You have the juxtaposition of the two disparate concepts of mennonites and LBDs, which effectively draws a potential reader's attention through a contrast that makes us go "Schwaaa?" The title also declares itself a memoir, alerting readers to its position firmly in the realm of biography, as opposed to romantic fiction about mennonites (seriously, Beverly Lewis, wtf?*)

The book itself is well-written, with a nice mix of hilarity and self-examination. It was at the end of chapter 5 that I realized I was already half-way through the book and the chapters were a bit on the long side. I remember thinking at the time that Janzen was definitely an academic, but I'm shudderingly grateful to be able to say that Janzen's prose is highly engaging and at times hysterically funny.  For example, she constantly references the man her husband left her for as "Bob the guy from Gay.com," a repetition I find amusing.

Janzen's descriptions of people, mostly her family, are what drives this memoir forward, engaging, delighting, and occasionally infuriating her audience. Her mother, is easily my favorite.  Janzen's descriptions of her mother create a picture of someone who is both the funniest and most endearing person in the book. At times her mother is releasing epically audible farts in the middle of Kohl's (163-65) or as Janzen describes it: "This was the Moses of all farts, a leader of its kind. The trump shall sound! It shall rouse us to action! I could not believe that my own mother had produced such a remarkable acoustic effect.  In public" (164). At other times, she's astutely questioning what she interprets as Janzen's sudden desire to hide her legs and, in a way, encouraging her daughter's recovery (both emotional and physical) from the car accident (217-18). By the end of the book you have no doubt as to why Janzen dedicated the book to her mother.

Meanwhile, her ex-husband, stories and memories of whom are interspersed throughout the text, is such a complete and utter d-bag that you want to leap into the pages and slap him around a bit.  Janzen describes his abuses (though I don't remember her explicitly labeling them as such, that's exactly what they were) in way that makes your heart clench a little more for her with each memory (see for example 83 -91).  Throughout these painful moments, Janzen does a brilliant job describing her own thoughts and emotions with a startling level of honesty.

Just as her descriptions of people drive the book, Janzen's constant relation of the book to various aspects of her Mennonite culture and heritage provides a connecting thread that runs throughout the memoir.  While the book enlightens readers to many aspects of Mennonite life, naturally, my favorites are the parts about food.  I spent a large part of reading this book with my mouth watering, lusting after the tastily described Zwiebach buns.  Janzen also describes such deliciousness as Warmer Kartoffelsalat, a hot and "tangy" potato salad (107).  But the food that fascinates me the most is Borscht, which Janzen describes as both amazingly tasty and incredibly embarrassing when packed in school lunches (111-13).  Borscht interests me for three reasons: 1) it sounds interesting and I have a thing for soups, 2) it's fun to say and 3) it also sounds foul.  Borscht, I learned, is made from cabbage and beets, creating a vibrant and pungent red soup, which is then served with vinegar and sour cream.  As a lover of both soup and vinegar, Borscht sounds pretty good; it seems like it'd be fun to learn how to make. However, I also loathe cabbage and beets, and so this soup simultaneously fascinates and disgusts me.  Simply the smell of beets is enough to set my stomach churning and hasten up memories of being force fed the gag-inducing root vegetable.  Thus, I must decline to ever apply my cooking skills to Borscht, but those raisin-walnut persimmon cookies, platz, and Zweibach might merit further culinary investigation.

Overall, Mennonite in a Little Black Dress makes for a thoroughly enjoyable read. The book makes you think about relationships, warms your heart and tells the rather engaging story of the author's life.  By welcoming you into the home of her Mennonite family, Janzen also illuminates a culture that few of us know much about beyond the surface. I fully plan to add this memoir to my own shelves someday soon.

*okay, so some of those are about the Amish, too, but still.
Extras

• For her take on the writing of the book, visit Janzen's webpage.
• Or for a recipe for Borscht try Janzen's Mennonite Primer. I have to say, even I might consider it with tomato soup instead of beets . . . 

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