Review: The Song is You

The Song is You by Megan Abbott

My rating: 4 of 5 stars



The third I've read, and probably best so far, of Megan Abbott's noir works, The Song is You is the story of Jean Spangler, a Hollywood starlet who vanishes without at trace after heading out to meet her exhusband/spend a night on the town (depending on who you ask). I didn't know until after I'd finished this that it's based on the true-life disappearance of Jean Spangler. This hypothetical "what if?" take on the starlet's vanishing act focuses mostly on Hollywood fixer Gil Hopkins as he tries to make sense of what happened to Spangler, and his role in her disappearance.

As has been pointed out before, Abbott knows her way around pulp. Her take on the Hollywood of yesteryear is grim and full of scandal. Pretty faces hide hollow hearts, and everyone in her Hollywood is either playing or being played. There's more sex, drugs, and violence here than you'll find in most films coming out of Hollywood today, but that puts it in good company with the books Abbott is paying homage to.

Hop's trip down memory lane, as he tries to remember the last night Jean was seen alive, takes him to plenty of dark places. It's his job, after all, to keep his clients spic and span, no matter how much dirt they roll around in, or how much blood they spill. And Hop is very, very good at his job.

The book fires on all cylinders when Hop is struggling with his conscience and trying to track down what really happened to Spangler. Half the time he can't tell if he wants to bring the truth to light or bury it so deep it can never be found. Is he covering his tracks, or exposing an injustice? That ambiguity creates a tremendous amount of tension, and make Hop one of Abbott's best creations to date. Hop's search for Spangler mimics his own search for his moral center (or, indeed, to figure out if he even still has one).

Like any good Hollywood noir, this one is full of deception; the plot twists and turns and every time Hop (or the reader) thinks he has it locked down, it slips away. If The Song is You has a flaw, it's that the plot eventually sinks a little under the weight of the twists and turns. By the end of the book, I couldn't decide if Hop was chasing the trail, or so sleep deprived and paranoid that he was creating false connections just to punish himself.

Luckily, the crisp writing and fast pace of the book more than make up for the overly layered plot. Like a lot of great noir, the devil isn't so much in the details as it is in the style and prose, both of which are top notch here.

A very solid entry; this is strong enough that it's got me wish I had more than one more of Abbott's noir novels left to read.




View all my reviews

Review: An Abundance of Katherines

An Abundance of Katherines by John Green

My rating: 3 of 5 stars



I recently found myself standing in a train station, facing the prospect of a very long train ride (eight hours, as it turned out) without having had the foresight to pack a book. Searching the book stand I spotted An Abundance of Katherines. I'd noticed the title before, at the library, and I'd heard good things, so I decided to give Green's novel about a boy a try.

Said boy, Colin, is a prodigy (former prodigy) who has just graduated high school (valedictorian) and been dumped by his girlfriend, Katherine XIX. You see, one of Colin's (many) quirks is that he only dates girls named Katherine. Nineteen times has our young protagonist been dumped by a girl named Katherine. His best (and only) friend, Hassan, comes up with the genius plan to take a road trip for the summer, which they hope with give Colin the time to get over his breakup and have fun just rambling around. They set out, and wackiness ensues.

So, three stars.

This probably really a two star book, saved only by the fact that I really did enjoy it. It's one of those cases where the whole is somehow greater than the sum of the parts.

This is, as other reviewers have certainly noted, a pretty formulaic book. Geeky White Guy with ennui hangs out with a Quirky Minority Friend who inexplicably puts up with GWG's crap. They have a journey (literally, in this case) of some kind, during which they meet The Girl, who is also very quirky/geeky in some way, but attractive, and who not only also inexplicably puts up with GWG's crap, but finds him magically attractive. She helps him find himself and realize that life is awesome, and they end up together. The End.

It's basically Garden State for the YA crowd.

The characters lack any real depth, and the basic plot is so formulaic, I'd guess that most readers know exactly what's going to happen with everyone almost from the moment they meet. Seriously, I almost couldn't bear to put a spoiler tag here, because this is such a "been there/done that" book.

That said... I kinda liked it. I'll admit it, it was funny! It's like going to a silly comedy after a long week. Sure, you know what's going to happen, and most of the jokes and gags are variations of things you've seen before, but that doesn't mean it isn't fun. Colin is annoying twerp of a character, and Hassan might actually be slightly offensive, but the absurdity of their situation, and the snappy "nobody is actually as clever as this all the time except in works of fiction" dialog worked for me (at least, while I was stuck on a train for eight hours).

I also liked that the narrative seemed to be deliberately structured to reinforce the lessons being given to Colin. The narrative structure is messy at first, with flashbacks being told arbitrarily as they occur to the character, but it eventually transitions, and the flashbacks are told in sequence like a coherent story within the story, once Colin learns how to tell stories.

The whole thing is pretty silly, of course. The individual components don't really feel like they belong together, especially, and few of them actually matter to the central plot. Does it matter that Colin only dated Katherines? Not even a little bit. Does it matter that he's great with anagrams or that he's a human encyclopedia or that he's terrible at making friends? Nope. You could pretty much change any of his quirks and it wouldn't really impact the story. You'd have the same story if he only dated redheads, or if he was a video game auteur.


So, there you have it, fellow readers. An Abundance of Katherines is basically the YA equivalent of a generic summer comedy. It's unremarkable, fundamentally silly, and not particularly well crafted, but you might enjoy it anyway, if the mood is right.





View all my reviews

Review: We Have Always Lived in the Castle

We Have Always Lived in the Castle by Shirley Jackson

My rating: 4 of 5 stars



This book came up in discussion when a friend was asking whether to bother reading Haunting of Hill House (the answer: Do! It's considered a classic for good reason!). Having never read Jackson's tale of Merricat and Constance, I decided to read both, back to back, to compare. The short verdict: both are excellent works, well worthy of a pick up, but We Have Always Lived in the Castle creeps ahead of HoHH in my mind.

Jackson's story is memorable, to say the least. Six years ago, the Blackwood family was poisoned with arsenic at dinner. Everyone except the sisters, Merricat and Constance, ate the poison (later determined to have come from the sugar dish), and fell ill. Of those, only Uncle Julian survived. Now the sisters take care of their uncle, who is confined to a wheelchair and suffering some form of dementia, while they try to keep up their structured home life. Constance is agoraphobic, so Merricat does the twice weekly trip to town for shopping. Their lives are full of structures and routines that have taken on a ritualistic, almost magical, significance to Merricat. When an unexpected, uninvited guest arrives from the outside, it threatens to shatter the world the three Blackwoods have built for themselves.

Merricat is the true focus of this story, and not merely because she's the narrator. Her desires and actions drive the central plot. She's the most compelling of the characters, as well. Jackson gives Merricat a strong voice and personality. At 18, she still seems trapped, Peter Pan-like, in an eternal childhood. She is prone to flights of fancy and whimsy--she speaks often of wanting to carry Constance off to the moon to protect her, and of the many wonderful ways the moon is different from their home--and is obsessed with protecting their way of life, placing peculiar talismans around their property to ward of change (although she maintains it's to protect them from outsiders). Her childishness also comes out in her emotional outbursts; she breaks dishes when she is angry or annoyed, runs away to hide in the field when she can't have her way, and engages in an increasingly destructive ways to punish her visiting cousin (refusing to speak to him, pouring water on his bed, destroying the watch, filling his room with twigs and leaves, etc).

One of the most interesting elements of the book is the trick it plays on the reader. Jackson's book doesn't have the kind of shocking or twist ending that tries to trick you at the last moment. WHALitC is brilliant in that it basically starts tricking you from the first page. Jackson is teasing the reader with the drips and drabs of information about the poisoning. The villiagers tease and torment Merricat as she walks through town, singing nasty songs at her and whispering behind her back. Constance was accused and tried for the crime, but acquitted, but the town believes her guilty. Yet, to even the most casual reader, the real culprit is not hard to figure out. How many times can a character talk about wishing that others were dead, or daydreaming about their broken bodies before you start to think "Hey... maybe this is the person who killed those other people?"

Some of the most compelling and interesting aspects of the book aren't "who did it", but, rather, the realizations that start to come as the book progresses and it becomes clearer just how out of touch Merricat is with herself. Merricat describes herself walking through the town and the impression is of the proud, wealthy daughter of a family envied by the poorer members of the community, but by the end of the story, Jackson has gradually revealed details that dramatically alter this earlier assessment. Cousin Charles, for example, makes it clear that Merricat is perpetually filthy and unwashed. While this far from excuses the treatment of the family by the town, it certainly casts Merricat's interactions with them in a different light.

This is the sort of story that many readers will find themselves turning over in their heads for some time. While many readers appear to describe this, rather loosely, as horror, I felt more sad than anything. That's not to say that there aren't disturbing elements (there certainly are!), but their lives are not the stuff or horror, but tragedy. They're trapped by their own mental and emotional illnesses, and by the cruelty of the people living in the town nearby. The novels conclusion is one of the saddest I've read in recent memory.

Very powerful work, highly recommended.



View all my reviews

Review: The Haunting of Hill House

The Haunting of Hill House by Shirley Jackson

My rating: 4 of 5 stars



Shirley Jackson's The Haunting of Hill House is a shining example of classic horror; four strangers gather together under the roof of the infamous Hill House to explore and seek out evidence of the supernatural, only to discover that the house's reputation for being unpleasant and hostile to visitors is well earned.

Jackson does a number of very interesting things here, not least of which is putting us in the mind of Eleanor "Nellie" Vance. Most of the novel is told from her perspective, as she gets to know her fellow companions and explores the house. Eleanor is a fascinating, if tragic, character. Her lack of worldly experiences (having spent most of her adult life caring for her sick mother) and her passive nature make her susceptible to fantasy and daydreaming, but her lack of self awareness and her conflicting desires to fit in but be the center of attention (while steadfastly maintaining that she desires nothing more than to be unnoticed) lead to many of the story's most interesting conflicts.

Eleanor quickly becomes the focus of most of the house's supernatural occurrences; her name is written on the walls several times, and she begins to identify with and feel overcome by the personality of the house. A particularly interesting section near the end of the book has her identifying so strongly with the house that she loses herself completely and begins to think of herself as an extension of the house. By the end of the book, Eleanor sees herself as part of the house, with each belonging to the other.

Because of the way that the story is presented--mostly from Eleanor's perspective--the reader is left to imagine not only some of the frightening occurrences (what, exactly, Theo sees when she and Eleanor are running and Theo looks behind, remains unsaid), but, also, the cause. Is the house haunted, as they suspect, or is Eleanor unconsciously responsible for the events that transpire (the book leaves open the possibility, unspoken, that Eleanor may be telekinetic, for example).

While the supernatural forces at play are well done, the book is perhaps most interesting for the interpersonal dynamics that are it explores. The four main characters begin the story on excellent terms and Eleanor immediately finds herself drawn to Theo. Eleanor has never had many/any friends, and Theo's vivaciousness and energy are particularly appealing to Eleanor. As the novel progresses, and the dynamics of the relationships are tested and explored, Eleanor's opinions and attitudes swing wildly, which I found tremendously fascinating. She goes from adoring Theo on the first day, to wishing she was dead by the midweek, to wanting to move in with her by the last night. Her feelings about the other guests are similarly unhinged and erratic.

The plot is fairly quickly paced (it's a fairly short work, frankly), and there aren't any moments that drag or feel too long. Jackson's prose is strong, and there are several stand-out moments, although the opening is certainly the most memorable:

No live organism can continue for long to exist sanely under conditions of absolute reality; even larks and katydids are supposed, by some, to dream. Hill House, not sane, stood by itself against its hills, holding darkness within; it had stood so for eighty years and might stand for eighty more. Within, walls continued upright, bricks met neatly, floors were firm, and doors were sensibly shut; silence lay steadily against the wood and stone of Hill House, and whatever walked there, walked alone.

For fans of classic horror or people who like a good psychological study with their supernatural thrills, this is a must read.






View all my reviews

Review: Die a Little

Die a Little by Megan Abbott

My rating: 3 of 5 stars



Another neo-noir from Megan Abbott. This is her first novel, and I think it shows a little. Lora King--schoolteacher, spinster, faithful sister to on-the-rise DA Assistant, Bill--doesn't quite trust Bill's new wife, Alice. Lora thinks that Alice seems just a little too hard, too mysterious, and knows people who are just a little too far from the right side of the tracks. And yet... there's intrigue there, too. Alice knows people who Lora couldn't dream of. People who live fast, dangerous lives. There are times where Lora can't decide whether she wants in or wants Alice out.

This is a pretty mixed bag.
The Good: Lora's change is handled well. She starts off lily-white and pure as freshly fallen snow, but by the end of the book, she's mixing it up with gangsters, tracking down a murderer, selling people out, and straight up lying to the fuzz. From spinster to sex-pot in two acts. Abbott does a great job, there, making the changes subtle at first, and keeping Lora from even noticing them, herself.

On the other hand, there's the plot. For much of the book, I couldn't decide whether Lora was right, and her sister-in-law was a crook, or if she was a little delusional and making the whole thing up in her head, which was fantastic. There was tension, there. And when it looked like Lora was going to take things into her own hands, I thought "Oh. Ooooh. Is she going to kill her? She's totally going to kill her!" But instead of giving us a real payoff, Abbott gives us a mess of a third act where too much happens, but none of it is really all that interesting. The third act just sort of fizzles out.


Overall a solid effort, but a weak third act prevents this from really hitting as hard as it should.



View all my reviews

Review: Queenpin

Queenpin by Megan Abbott

My rating: 4 of 5 stars



Reading like a solid example of period pulp, Megan Abbott's Queenpin is a pleasant take on the genre staples. So you've got crime bosses covered in silk and stones, down on their luck hard boys, and femme fatales with bodies like lava and curves that don't quit. And, of course, there are double crosses and clever tricks, and fate is tempted more than once by people too stupid or too tangled up to care. Abbott's contribution here is to focus on the women of noir. Instead of following some punk as he makes a name for himself, the narrator is a young women, getting into the criminal underworld through a job cooking the books at a club. This brief glimpse at a world with very different rules spikes her interest, and, of course, she wants more. When she's taken under the wing of crime boss Gloria Denton, she gets a very different kind of education, and an introduction to the crime world that still doesn't satisfy that hunger for more.

Slick writing by Abbot, who has a firm grasp of noir conventions and knows her way around a clever phrase.



View all my reviews

Review: The City & the City

The City & the City by China Miéville

My rating: 4 of 5 stars



China Miéville's The City & the City is an interesting "high concept" take on the noir/pulp detective story. I picked it up seeing it on some other lists of strange but fantastic detective novels. This, as it turns out, is both.

The mystery itself is well crafted; there are twists and turns aplenty as what starts as a simple investigation into a dumped body starts to take on stronger political implications and the possibility of an international incident at work complicates the investigation. So far, pretty typical mystery fair, though. The real genius here is in Miéville's crafting of Beszel and Ul Qoma.

The easiest way I can think to describe the setting is if you took the concept of "there are two Americas" (e.g. "white America and black America" or "rich America and poor America" etc), and, instead of leaving it a metaphorical concept, made it literal. Two cities/countries that overlap in the same physical space. Some areas--entire neighborhoods even--are one or the other, but there are lots of spaces where the divisions are "crosshatch", and go from one to the other every few feet, or store front by store front.

How Miéville explores this conceptual stew is what elevates this from throw-away neo-noir. His extrapolations of what such a world would look like, how such a world would function, and how the people would see themselves (and unsee the others) is excellently done (if profoundly weird).



View all my reviews