The Roaring 20s

Under the Volcano

Traditionally, spring is a time for cleaning house: purging your tiny apartment of superfluous items, like that houndstooth headband from The Gap that you were never able to pull off, or the old issues of The New Yorker that have been accumulating dust on your windowsill.  With that in mind, I wanted to ask readers which books they would like to get rid of this Spring: books that have languished on their shelves, books which they would probably never actually read.

Instead, I ended up increasing my own to-read pile.  Ever since the volcanic eruption in Iceland, the office has been buzzing about a backlist classic, Under the Volcano, which takes place in 1938 Mexico. (We're not the only ones--check out the first question in a topical quiz from The Guardian.) In Under the Volcano, Geoffrey Firmin, a former British Consul, has come to Quauhnahuac in search of salvation and tequila, drinking himself past consciousness.  His wife, Yvonne, arrives in Mexico to save their failing marriage, and over the course of one surreal day, the Day of the Dead, their lives are forever altered.  "You're going to want some tequila and salt to go with that book," Diane of HarperAcademic told me this morning.  Not a bad way to pass the time waiting for your flight in Heathrow, I think.  Have you read Under the Volcano? Seen the movie? If you want to read along with me, and are one of the first 5 to comment, I'll mail you a book!

English 101 Reads: Brave New World

From George Orwell's 1984 to Sarah Hall's Daughters of the North, I've been known to love a good dystopian novel.  Brave New World was one of my first forays into the genre, and I was thrilled to re-read it for English 101, our Modern Classics Book Club.  10 years later, the writing is just as eloquent--just as eccentric and unique--as I remember. I mutilated my copy a bit, and took to underlining gorgeous passages like this one:

"The sultry darkness into which the students now followed him was visible and crimson, like the darkness of closed eyes on a summer's afternoon." 

Meanwhile, the repeated allusions to Shakespeare had me in heaven. Huxley was also known to admire T.S. Eliot, and nowhere is this more visible than in the third chapter of the book, which segues into multiple and separate lines of narrative: an incredible effect.  As far as the story itself, like Lauren, I feel that the key to enjoying the book in 2010 is to avoid harping on the fallacies of Huxley's predictions.  If you can treat his universe as an alternate reality (how very Lost of me), you will be rewarded.  The allegory of the book borders on the didactic, but from a philosophical perspective, Brave New World is entirely worth the read.  Huxley poses questions about happiness, conformity, sex, love, and human connection that will linger on in your mind long after the novel's close.  At the very least, you might find yourself wondering where to find soma, green velveteen viscose shorts, contraceptive belts, or scent machines.  Have you read Brave New World? Loved it, hated it, couldn't care less about it? Leave a comment, tweet with the hashtag #english101, check out Erica and Lauren's reviews, and click here for this year's schedule of modern classics.    

Six-Word Memoir Winners!

Apologies for the delay in posting! After a few intense days (and sleepless nights) at ALA Midwinter in Boston, I came down with a horrible cold.  The only thing to do was drink fluids, eat soup, watch 30 Rock, listen to Grizzly Bear, and read this month's modern classic, A Tree Grows in Brooklyn (more on that soon!).

Now that I'm back at my usual post, here are the winners of our six-word memoir contest! I chose five submissions that I thought spoke to 20somethings, so be aware, it was a bit subjective. 

From Dana: I've fallen in love with everyone.
From Bridget: I never felt I belonged here.
From Gabrielle: I'm exactly how I imagined myself.
From Jen: Turns out I'm "not-so-gifted."
From Katy: I thought I would be different.  

Email me at roaring20s AT harpercollins DOT com to receive your copy of It All Changed in an Instant!

New Year and a New Take on Sherlock Holmes

Apologies for the hiatus from posting-- I was busy with holiday parties, cookie baking, book swapping, and preparations for ALA Midwinter.  I did come across a free slice of time yesterday and managed to check out Guy Ritchie's Sherlock Holmes.  Overall, I thought it was a pretty enjoyable way to spend a Sunday afternoon (I especially liked the somewhat steampunk vision of Victorian London).  And as you might remember, I'm a sucker for anything involving Rachel McAdams.  If you saw the movie and/or are interested in notable takes on this 19th century detective, nj.com has a fabulous list of books--including our very own Michael Chabon.  They write:

"Michael Chabon is among the very best American writers, and his essay on the genius of Conan Doyle — contained in his anthology Maps & Legends (Harper Perennial 2008, 210 pp., $14.99) — is as good an analysis of the mechanics of popular fiction as you’re likely to find. The facile Chabon also offers an homage in The Final Solution: A Story of Detection (Harper Perennial 2005, 131 pp., $12.99), in which we find an aging Holmes battling the diminishing of his powers while taking on one last case."

Happy reading, and Happy New Year! 

The Bell Jar, Revisited

Would you believe it if I said I'd never read Sylvia Plath's The Bell Jar until now? I almost don't believe it.  Part of the reason I always shied away from The Bell Jar was the idea that reading about a protagonist like Esther Greenwood would hit too close to home.  After all, just like Esther, I was an English major in the Honors program at a Northeast liberal arts school, I loved poetry and D.H. Lawrence, and had a similarly charged, challenging experience interning in Manhattan.  And like Esther, I often contemplated the conflicts of being a young woman with competing ambitions and desires.  There's one beautiful passage in which Plath writes:

"I saw my life branching out before me like the green fig tree in the story. From the tip of every branch, like a fat purple fig, a wonderful future beckoned and winked. One fig was a husband and a happy home and children, and another fig was a famous poet and another fig was a brilliant professor, and another fig was Ee Gee, the amazing editor, and another fig was Europe and Africa and South America, and another fig was Constantin and Socrates and Attila and a pack of other lovers with queer names and offbeat professions, and another fig was an Olympic lady crew champion, and beyond and above these figs were many more figs I couldn't quite make out. I saw myself sitting in the crotch of this fig tree, starving to death, just because I couldn't make up my mind which of the figs I would choose. I wanted each and every one of them, but choosing one meant losing all the rest, and, as I sat there, unable to decide, the figs began to wrinkle and go black, and, one by one, they plopped to the ground at my feet."

Esther's observations sum up this acutely quarterlife uncertainty better than anything I've read as a 20something.  Plath wrote The Bell Jar nearly 50 years ago, but it is as fresh and relevant as a piece of new fiction.  Her voice is bravely, unerringly honest and the writing itself is direct and visceral--gorgeous language paired down to its essential parts.  

Have you read The Bell Jar? What was your impression of it? If you're a 20something who would like to review the book, shoot me an email at roaring20s at harpercollins dot com and I'll send you a complimentary copy.