books – Page 2 – Life and Lims

I’m no book critic

It’s no secret I adore reading. I’ve been a book reviewer for a solid 15 years, for newspapers and, more recently, a book-review publication that has done print and e-versions. For a long time, I kept up a membership in the National Book Critics Circle. A few years ago, I just stopped sending in yearly membership checks; I intended to get around to it but never did. Oh well. But in all honesty, I don’t see myself as a critic. I’m just a reviewer.

Here’s the thing: I don’t read a ton of literary fiction. For those of you who aren’t really aware of the distinction among different genres, there’s “literary fiction” and there’s “popular fiction,” among other things. To put it simply, the literary version of fiction is highbrow. It’s what you’d read and dissect in an English 353 college class. It has Meaning. Popular fiction is fun and far more accessible.

Now, literary fiction can be fun, and pop fiction can have plenty of discuss-able elements. But I’m just keeping it simple here. And honestly, I often do not get the literary stuff. I’ll say it straight-up. I consider myself an intelligent person, one who enjoys dissecting and discussing. But when a book I’m reading requires heavy concentration and a professor to help me figure out what it’s supposed to be About, then I’m inclined to chuck it.

So while I do skim through the New York Times Book Review, I don’t read a lot of the books featured in its lofty pages. I don’t typically read many Nobel winners, either. Pulitzers, sometimes. What I do end up reading are the Newbery and Caldecott winners, though. I find those wonderful library awards to be right up my alley. The books honored are targeted at young readers, and they can be absolutely charming, insightful, and even Meaningful. But they’re still absolutely accessible. So I sit up and pay attention when those are announced, as they were today.

Nah, I’m not a snobby reader. I guess I’m just a middle-of-the-road reviewer. Yes, I have standards: if you’ve read my other book posts, you’ll know I do not like certain churn-’em-out writers, and I am still mostly wary of self-pubs. I like to feast my eyes and mind on books that give me something to consider, to ponder, to chew on. I like to be transported. I love to sink my mental teeth into some delicious metaphors and beautifully arranged words that describe a feeling or an experience to a T. I can be pretty picky. But I am not a Literature reader or critic.

I think, though, that’s a good thing, because most other readers aren’t, either. (Literature fans will likely bemoan the sorry state of the reading populace, but bah humbug on them.) What I can do as a mostly middle-of-the-road reader and reviewer who has standards is present some wonderful reading options (and with content ratings on my Rated Reads site, as an added bonus) that will satisfy most other middle-of-the-road readers with similar standards. As with anything, it’s always handy to find like-minded people when you’re looking for a recommendation, whether it’s for books, movies, TV or restaurants. I’m happy to offer up my mind to those who like it. Here’s to us non-critics.

I’m that kind of mom

As I pulled the peanut butter muffins from the oven the other night at 9 p.m., I thought, “Now, this is the kind of mom I am.”

Yes, I am that mom who bakes. I’m also the mom who cooks dinner every night. I “spoil” my family a bit by making them breakfast, too. Sometimes.

But I don’t make breakfast every day, at least on school days. And I do NOT get up early so it can be fresh. No, if I feel like making breakfast on a school day for my husband and kids, I make it the night before so I can sleep in. Muffins will still be tasty but not hot from the oven, guys. Either you eat them cold, or you can have them warm if you give ’em 12 seconds in the microwave.

I’m the kind of mom who does things on my own schedule, at least when it’s possible.

I’m not the kind of mom who does everything I find on Pinterest. It’s fun to browse and get ideas for cool projects or decoration or holidays or … whatever. But I’m not fool enough to think I need to actually DO all that stuff. Honestly, I think Pinterest has just upped the ante yet another 10 notches on what seems to have become competitive parenting.

I am the kind of mom who reads to my kids, or has read to them for much of their young lives. I can’t help it; I love books. I have shelves and shelves of them. There are bookshelves in all the bedrooms, as well as the living room and office.

I’m not the kind who schleps my kids to all kinds of activities and lessons. Two of my girls take piano lessons. And that’s it on the scheduled stuff. My philosophy is the old-school one that holds that kids need plenty of free time to find their own way, be creative, play, figure things out on their own. Plus, I just don’t have the money to pay for gymnastics, dance, etc., and I don’t have time and energy to taxi them around nonstop after 3 p.m. They don’t play organized sports, either. I love to exercise, and I want them to be active, but I admit I’m personally not very good at sports. So, yeah, that’s kind of influenced my parenting. But my girls have plenty of opportunity to play and be active. We have a pool in the back yard, a swingset and slide, a basketball hoop, and other outdoor play stuff.

I’m a mama bear when I need to be. Some things that happen to my kids (at school, primarily) make me instantaneously morph into werebear. But the rest of the time, I try to let them figure things out themselves. I am not going to step in and take care of little details. I don’t have time and energy for that, and they need to learn. Simple as that.

I’m the kind of mom who still spends plenty of time reading. If dinner’s half an hour later than our “usual” time sometimes, so be it. If I’m sitting at the computer writing or doing my freelance editing, they know they will not get a welcoming response if they ask me something that isn’t truly urgent. And it almost never is, believe me.

It’s difficult to have a “life of my own” (which is still a fluid concept, open for definition and tricky to pin down) with four daughters, from a high school senior down to a first-grader. But I certainly do try. If I don’t get some free time, some quiet time, some space to myself to regenerate and let my mind wander and my body rest, I am a prickly, mean mom. So for the happiness of everyone, I need that time to myself. Balancing the right amounts of that is, again, tricky. But they know that I need it and I know they feel the difference in the atmosphere when I haven’t had “me” time.

I’m that kind of mom. I nearly wear myself out for my family much of the time. I’d do whatever is necessary to do what’s best for them. I absolutely ADORE my girls. I am in awe of them. They are beautiful inside and out and amazing and talented and funny and sweet.

But I’m the kind of mom who will never say “my children are my life.”

Right now, of necessity for their well being, their needs take up much of my time and energy, but I am still ME and have a SELF that’s not defined by being their mom. I have a life, and my children are a big part of it. I love that. I chose that. It’s seriously hard work. But I’m the kind of mom who values my individuality and still has goals that don’t directly involve my kids.

Yep, I’m all kinds of things. On some fronts, I’m the kind of mom who “does it all.” On others, I might seem to do too little. But I’m a great kind of mom.

My favorite books of 2013

So it’s time to jump on that bandwagon and share what I enjoyed the most in 2013. Of course, since I didn’t read all the new and hyped books of the year, I can only include my opinions on what I did read, but I think it’s a pretty good list nonetheless. So let’s get right to it:

The best

Escape from Mr. Lemoncello’s Library, by Chris Grabenstein. A friend who really knows her YA/middle-grade stuff loved this, so I thought I’d check it out for myself and my 11-year-old. I got it from the library, handed it over to my young book-devourer, then enjoyed it after she did. It’s everything you’d want from a book for young readers: fun, clever, kind of adventurous, and highly imaginative. It made me and my daughter both wish there was a real library as amazing as the one imagined by Grabenstein. Every town needs a Mr. Lemoncello with deep pockets and a desire to give back to the community via a well-appointed library.

Just One Year, the follow-up to Just One Day, by Gayle Forman. Forman can do no wrong when it comes to young adult/new adult books. They are utterly real and honest, with characters who are just as real. The stories are moving and touching without cheaply playing on heartstrings. This latest pair of books focus first on the young woman who falls for a guy during a trip to Europe and the one day they have together, then the guy. We get each of their perspectives and see how they come together initially, but, more importantly, how they grow individually so they could stay together.

Mortal Fire, by Elizabeth Knox. Knox proved she has solid writing talent with this first new book since her YA “duet” of Dreamhunter and Dreamquake. I can’t recommend her enough. The stories are mysterious and fascinating while delivering big on setting. Like Forman’s books, there is poignancy and sweetness without overdoing it. I gobbled them up. I wrote a whole post about Knox.

Me Before You, by Jojo Moyes. This British book was actually published earlier but hit it big this year through word of mouth in the U.S. — and rightly so. It’s a sweet story of two unlikely people falling for each other: a formerly successful businessman-turned-quadriplegic and the woman who’s hired to care for him and lift his spirits. It really tugs on the heartstrings and makes you think. Get a box of Kleenex ready.

The Rosie Project, by Graeme Simsion. Here’s another that sparked lots of word of mouth, months before it was published. I was forced to wait to read it closer to its pub date, and let me say it was worth the wait. This was another story of unlikely love, this time between a man with Asperger’s and a girl who is definitely not the type of woman he’d expected to fall for. Clever, sweet, funny, insightful. I laughed, I read cute segments out loud to my daughter. When I feels the need to read passages out loud to family members, you know it’s good. Only drawback: a couple dozen f-words.

The Firebird, by Susanna Kearsley. I ran across the gothic-y The Shadowy Horses on my library’s e-book website and gave it a try. Definitely enjoyed it. Then when I saw this new book would be following one character from that book later in life, I felt I must read it as well. After being caught up in the two parallel stories in this newest book for a very enjoyable 500 pages or so, I wished there was more. Luckily, Kearsley has plenty of other books for me to enjoy in the same genre, and I got extra-lucky a few days ago to get some e-copies for a special $1.99 on Amazon. Life is good. If you like clean gothic tales, Kearsley is a must-read. And read a bit more about her and other fave authors on this post.

Now for some nonfiction:

The World’s Strongest Librarian, by Josh Hanagarne. I laughed, I was fascinated, I learned. This memoir took me inside the head and life of a really cool and smart guy who happens to wrestle with Tourette syndrome. It was so interesting and entertaining that I introduced it to my book club, and it made for a great discussion. Read more on my post about it.

Catastrophic Care, by David Goldhill. I already wrote a long post about this book on our health care system and what we deem to be “health insurance,” but what should be more precisely termed “health coverage.” In short, this book is what I think EVERYONE should read when talking about health care in the United States and the Affordable Care Act or Obamacare. It might take a little concentration for some readers, but this is another I read out loud from a bunch and dog-eared and underlined a ton. Just a must-read.

The most disappointing:

Life After Life, by Kate Atkinson. I have seen this on a number of “best-of” lists this past couple of weeks and still am stymied as to why that is. I sometimes think that editors and critics jump on bandwagons just because everyone else seems to think the book “should be” good. I thought the premise of this book was fascinating but that its execution wasn’t so hot. It just didn’t seem to “mean” anything. If everyone supposedly loved it because the premise was great but thought they were the only ones who didn’t “get” the bigger meaning and didn’t want to admit it, I wouldn’t be surprised. If you’d like to read more about my disappointment with this book, look at my original post.

Bellman and Black, by Diane Setterfield. Dang it, this was so disappointing. I guess it was almost inevitable. I count her first book, The Thirteenth Tale, as probably my favorite gothic book. So that’s a lot to have to live up to. But this second book just didn’t deliver any big twists or messages. It kind of just went along, told its story, and said goodbye. Ah, well. Maybe she can write a third somewhere down the road and redeem herself just a bit.

There you have it, folks. I’m eager to see what 2014 brings in the way of great new books. Happy reading.

Favorite authors

So I just finished reading The Firebird, Susanna Kearsley’s latest novel. This being the second book of hers I’ve read (after The Shadowy Horses), I am finding she is probably being added to my mental list of favorite writers (perhaps I should make an official list on GoodReads…).

I enjoyed The Firebird so much that I read all the back material about the history and her research and even her bio. I read that she’s been compared to Daphne du Maurier, Mary Stewart, and Diana Gabaldon, all of which are on my list already! Well, there ya go. I was only in my early teens when Mary Stewart became part of my favorite-authors list: I read her amazing set about Arthur and Merlin, which begins with The Crystal Cave, and found myself transported. Almost any other book about Arthur has let me down since then. I read probably four of her other books in my teens, whatever I could find in the local library or at used-book stores. Of course, I loved du Maurier’s Rebecca, that being essentially THE classic gothic tale, as I see it. And I’ve now read half of Gabaldon’s very entertaining (but lengthy) Outlander books.

When I was a young reader, I gobbled up everything I could find by Agatha Christie (I collected probably 20 or 25 of her books and read far more from the library) and by the awe-inspiring Madeleine L’Engle. I adored Susan Cooper’s The Dark Is Rising sequence but never found anything else, at the time, that she had written (I’ve since seen more but haven’t tried reading any).

In between, I’ve swallowed whole most of Michael Crichton’s books (they were almost all gripping, more intelligent than many other best-sellers, and based on fascinating science), Amy Tan’s beautiful stories of Chinese mothers and daughters, and a fair number of Orson Scott Card’s novels, mostly the fantasy ones and not the sci-fi (I’m just now getting around to reading Ender’s Game, and at the halfway point, I’m just mildly interested).

Most recently, I’ve become a huge fan of Cassandra Clare (yes, her Shadowhunter books are deliciously entertaining), Carlos Ruiz Zafon, Elizabeth Knox, and Kate Morton (yep, Zafon and Morton both write what I consider to be gothic tales, or close to it). Of course, I think it goes without saying that I loved J.K. Rowling’s Harry Potter books, but I was very disappointed by her first adult novel, The Casual Vacancy, and I haven’t tried her detective novel written under a pseudonym.

I think what I love most about these authors and their writing is their ability to really take me somewhere far, far away. Most have some elements of magic or something supernatural, or the hint of there being a possibility. There are deep, dark secrets and mysteries, long buried. There are thrills that keep me hooked till the very end. Many are set in other countries besides my own (I love England; the very soil seems to be soaked with layer after layer of story). The writing is beautiful and carefully crafted; the characters are ones I want to know. Ah, to be able to just open a simple book, step into it, and be completely enveloped, surrounded by other places and times!

There are always new books and new writers that impress me. Some I admire; others I adore. Thank you for sharing your gifts.

Books that spark the imagination

It’s no secret I love to read. I am in awe of the amazing imagination of so many writers. But some books aren’t just imaginative in and of themselves; some actually stimulate and feed imaginative thought. For some reason, I’ve found these books tend to be ones aimed at middle readers (maybe it’s because that was a time in my life I felt most free to explore and imagine: now that might be another topic to consider). A couple of cases in point:

Anything by Blue Balliett. Reading her books is like attending a class for gifted students. I can say this because I myself had the privilege of going to special “gifted and talented” classes when I was in my middle-school years, and they were fun and fascinating and inspired us to think “outside the box.” I LOVED them. Balliett’s books feature protagonists who either attend a special school that focuses on inspiring kids to think differently while learning (in Chasing Vermeer, The Wright 3, and The Calder Game) or whose parents inspire them to imagine and think creatively (Hold Fast). She introduces all kinds of fun and interesting concepts to young readers, many of whom might not have had the opportunity to attend these kinds of enrichment classes. Her writing truly gets those brain juices flowing and makes all of the topics come alive, whether it’s art or architecture or the rhythms of poetry or the things you can do with pentominoes. She uses puzzles and riddles and hidden messages and makes readers do a little work, though it’s too fun to really think of it as such. Reading these books makes me feel like a kid again, set loose in a gifted-classroom setting.

The other book that gave me that same wonderful feeling is one a friend reviewed for my website, Rated Reads. As soon as I read the review of Chris Grabenstein’s Escape from Mr. Lemoncello’s Library, I knew I had to get a copy from my city library, first for my 11-year-old to read, and then for me to escape into.

This one centered around the amazing resource that is a library, and it incorporated similar mind-expanding elements: riddles, puzzles, mysteries and clues to piece together. It featured the most amazing library that any kid (or kid at heart) could pretty much just live in, if given the opportunity. Just reading about the cool gadgets and state-of-the-art electronics incorporated into this fictional library made me almost drool with jealousy for the kids in the book who got to use it. And it features a rich, eccentric game-manufacturing benefactor who makes it all possible, á la Willy Wonka. Only this is better — as much as I love chocolate, this library sounds far more like a dream come true to me. Games, prizes, and a night spent locked in an amazing library? Yes, yes!

If you want to reawaken the creative kid in yourself, read these books. If you want to do so for your child, hand the book over to him or her.

Amazon ‘Kindle MatchBook’: great idea that more publishers need to support

So Amazon (aka the Book Behemoth) has announced a plan to offer cheaper Kindle versions of physical books customers have already bought. Seems pretty fair. If I’ve already paid $15 or more for a hard copy of a book, for instance, it does seem only right that I should get the ebook version for a small fee, rather than paying the full Kindle price.

Only problem? Publishers and agents have to get on board. So far, Amazon says, “Over 10,000 books will already be available when Kindle MatchBook launches in October.” That sounds like a large number at first glance, but really, it’s a tiny amount compared to all the books that are out there, just even those published in the past couple of years. I’m sure the problem of getting all books (or a majority, at least from the big publishers) available for this great bundling offer is the desire for publishers and agents to have a chunk of that income, even though it will be fairly small (the Kindle versions offered this way will be $2.99 or less). That’s fair, too, sure. But given what I’ve read about how hard they’ve fought Amazon on all kinds of other ebook policies and pricing (and, sure, that’s only right, too, for them to have their fair share, and it’s not like Amazon isn’t a bit like the Wal-Mart of online book selling), sometimes seeming overly greedy themselves, I doubt it’s going to be anytime soon that they’ll come to an agreement that everyone can be happy with.

That’s a shame, though, because this is a fantastic idea. I know that even though I have a Kindle, I still enjoy having some books in hard copy format, and it can be tricky to choose how I want to spend my reading money (oh, if only I had an unlimited budget just for books!). If I knew I could spend an extra $2 or so and get both the hard copy and ebook, I’d be happy to do so. I do enjoy having well-loved books sitting physically on my bookshelf, but being able to have them on my Kindle if I feel like reading them again when I’m “out and about” is also wonderful. The Kindle has some great advantages, as I’ve already written, and I’m not too much of a purist to spurn it.

OK, publishers and agents: get on board with this bundling plan, and do it fast.

It’s OK to close doors in life

I wrote recently about dreams and that sometimes it’s just impossible to reach certain dreams and goals. Well, that’s tied in to other conclusions I have drawn about my own life. I’m in my 40s now and still have plenty of good years ahead, very likely, but I’m not 20 anymore. And I’m really generally OK with that: more than OK, really — I’m happy with where I am and wouldn’t want to go back to those early years of adulthood.

I love to write, and I love to read. I’ve always wanted to have a book published, and when I was in my late 20s, I wrote a memoir that was just a series of vignettes about my experiences raising my first child. (Now she’s a senior in high school, a stage in life I never could imagine in those long, early days.) I worked on it and worked on it, and I wrote dozens of revisions of query letters and mailed out hundreds to agents and some publishers. I kept all those rejection letters in a file folder and just went through them again, more than 10 years later. I don’t think I’m ready to toss them all. They’re somehow a reminder of the work I put into this goal, and how dedicated I was to achieving it.

Even so, I never acquired an agent or got a traditional publisher to take on the work of publishing my magnum opus. Not too surprising; getting memoirs published is nearly impossible. So, after a few years, I decided to self-publish. I really did my homework and made my product the best it could be without completely breaking the bank. I found a printer and had 2,000 copies printed. The day they were delivered, I had 20 white boxes full of my pretty pink books sitting in my living room, a testament to my optimism and, probably, stubbornness.

I sold 200. And through two moves, one all the way across the country, I have kept all those remaining boxes. But now I am ready to get rid of most of them. I accept I’ll never sell them. I don’t think they’re my best work anymore. I’ve evolved as a writer. And they might just be too cutesy for most people. So, all these years later, some are being donated to the local book sale, and the rest are going to the recycling bin.

I realized a while ago I’m probably not meant for fiction, either, though it is easier to get published (I’ve tried writing some and I like the results even less than I like my memoir now). I think I’m too much of a journalist after all these years to write stuff completely out of thin air. So, nonfiction seemed still the best way to go. I thought that I’d develop my series of articles about plastic surgery in Utah into a faith-based book on self-image and beauty. I worked on it for a year. I sent it in to a good publisher for our faith community. Two months ago, my chapters were rejected. The company wants to publish a book on that topic, but my manuscript isn’t quite the right fit.

I’ve also now decided it’s time to put that book on the shelf for good. It was a good experience and I learned a lot from it, but I’m done with it. I feel it’s time to move on.

It’s time for me to focus on what I’m truly good at, and that’s editing and helping other people with their writing. I’ve been editing for newspapers for years, and I can say with all honesty that I’m very good at it. More than that: I’m excellent, really talented. I’ve always wanted to get into editing manuscripts for book publishers, and it seems I now have an opportunity to get a foot in the door for that goal as well. So I’m going to take it, go for it, put my time and efforts into that. I’m ready to move forward.

That means I’m closing the door on the book writing, at least for now. New doors may be opening, and I have to close the doors on the old stuff behind me first. I only have so much time and energy for career-oriented goals in my life, so I have to focus on the real opportunities and let go of the old dreams. Besides, this is a dream, too, just a different one. Watch me turn the knob to see where this door takes me.

Worse than exposing kids to vulgarity: making them part of it

I obviously care about values, values in the media, and how we teach our children values (and help protect them from some of the value-less media out there). Let’s just say for my purposes here that “values” is shorthand for positive messages and content that is low on vulgarity, harsh language, sex, violence, and other crudeness.

I started my book-review website, Rated Reads, because I wanted to provide useful guidance for readers of all ages and parents of younger readers. The more information we can obtain as media consumers and parents of media consumers before actually viewing movies, TV, books, websites, etc., the better: we can protect ourselves from content we wouldn’t want to have to see/hear. Luckily, there are a good number of websites and other resources available to help us make good, informed decisions about movies and TV shows, as well as music. I started Rated Reads because there weren’t nearly so many resources available with the same kind of information about books.

Naturally, with this mindset and as the mother of four daughters, I want to be able to protect them from seeing and hearing vulgar, obscene, gross, crude content. I don’t want to see/hear that stuff myself, and I certainly don’t want my girls to be inundated with it. I can’t protect them from other people or from other kids at school (much as schools supposedly try to police obscene language, etc., it’s a losing battle in reality, honestly), but I can help them to feel safe at home.

With this as my philosophy, I’ve always been shocked by what I see other parents do/not do for their own children. Sure, all parents are different, and I can’t say that “different” is usually or always bad. But sometimes it’s hard not to judge, such as when I see adults bring tiny kids to PG-13 movies or just movies that are super-scary or intense. Or those who routinely let their young kids watch R-rated movies at home. I just can’t see that that does any good for (and doesn’t harm) these impressionable youngsters.

But what really, really makes me start steaming is seeing vulgar movies or TV starring children. For example, when I went to the movies this week, I saw a preview for a movie I will NEVER go see, called “Bad Grandpa.” An actor dresses up as an old man and takes a young boy cross-country with him on an MTV “Jackass”-inspired trip. They pull all kinds of pranks and film real people’s reactions. One clip in this trailer showed this young boy, who is 9 years old, dressing up as a pole dancer and gyrating in all kinds of crude ways that would make me cringe if it were an adult performing the acts. But this is a CHILD! To expose kids to this stuff is bad enough, but to then make a child PERFORM these acts is beyond irresponsible. It’s heinous. It’s horrible. It goes beyond the pale.

I don’t think I’m a prude. I simply believe in values (and if you don’t, then don’t bother commenting because we come from very different sides and will likely never agree). I believe in teaching values to our kids, in protecting them from as much as we can, in helping them learn ways to protect themselves from vulgarity as they grow older. Again, none of us can possibly shield ourselves completely. But we can take steps to reduce the amount of crudeness we have to ingest. And it’s parents’ responsibility to reduce exposure and teach their children, not douse them in “adult” filth.

We’re living in a world that’s radioactive with crudeness and vulgarity. We’re going to be exposed. Question is: will we take precautions and shield ourselves and our kids, or will we allow ourselves to be constantly irradiated, leading to sickness, cancer and death of the inner self?

GO SEE ‘The Mortal Instruments: City of Bones’. That’s an order.

So I’ve written a few times about my (mostly happy) love affair with Cassandra Clare’s Shadowhunter books. Most recently, I wrote about the Infernal Devices series, which was completely satisfying and just right. And at the end, you may notice I wrote about my eagerness to see how the movie version of City of Bones turned out.

Here’s what I thought was kind of funny initially, before the movie even started: Since I’m quite a fangirl when it comes to this series (although I refuse to shell out $2.99 per story for the Bane Chronicles; all together, that’s going to be a lot of moolah), I honestly expected to see crowds out front of my local theater when I dashed out to see it last night, right after it opened (but, admittedly, on a Thursday, before weekend busy-ness). After all, Twilight fans were lined up for hours ahead of each show. And honestly, this series is even better: it has action, hot romance, supernatural elements, and wit. But when my husband and I got there, 35 minutes before showtime, there were two other people seated in the theater. Wha? By the time it started, there was a reasonable small group in there for a Thursday night, but I sat there thinking, I hope that audiences do not miss this movie.

So I’m recommending it to everyone.

The movie did not disappoint. It stays true to the story without taking too many liberties but not, however, being so faithful to the book that it bogs down the pace of the action and plot; the action is engaging enough for male viewers to be able to get into it (come on, you know that Twilight the movie wasn’t exactly geared toward the men); the romance is still scorching hot (the great kiss scene in the middle is even better on film than it is in the book, which is saying something); the story and the world building are interesting, as in the book; the sets are great. I loved seeing everything I imagined (and didn’t get around to imagining, apparently) come to big, beautiful life on the screen.

Casting: When it all comes down to it, the most important casting pick was for one crucial character. The actor (Jamie Campbell Bower) who portrays the central character, Jace Wayland, is honestly just about a perfect choice. I admit I don’t think he’s great-looking (and yes, I do think that RPatt is just to die for when it comes to looks, not to mention how funny he is in interviews), but the character isn’t really either. It’s all about presence. Jace is intense, moody, and utterly irresistible because of how he emotes. And Bower nails this. He has screen presence galore. He smolders up there on the screen. His hair looks terrible. But it simply doesn’t matter. His whole body, his face, his eyes show who the character is and what he may or may not feel or believe. And when he looks at Clary, his face near to hers, temperatures rise. Yikes.

Now I did mention in that previous post that my main concern would be the humor. The books are laugh-out-loud funny in the banter between the characters and some of their one-liners. The movie just did an OK job on capturing this wit. There were a few good lines, but still, as I feared, that delicious banter isn’t in constant supply. The action and romance win out, and the wit came in last. Even so, it wasn’t a complete bust. I really felt that the Harry Potter movies suffered in comparison to the books because they really did sacrifice most of what I saw as clever and funny in the books. I didn’t feel that this movie did quite so badly.

Overall, a great adaptation and a movie I’m going to have to watch a few more times on the big screen. I liked it that much. Now pardon me while I get ready to head to the theater, this time with my oldest daughter.

The light feeling of forgiving

Several experiences and conversations lately have reminded me of just how much good forgiving others can do for our own hearts, and, conversely, how much holding on to anger, hurt, and blame can just drag us down, mire us in bad feelings, and darken our hearts and minds. It harms relationships and our own worldviews.

I won’t elaborate on the situations, but there have been a few instances in my life that have led to some serious anger and heartache on my part. The ways I was treated certainly “justified” my feelings, and they were natural reactions to the things that were said and done to me. And honestly, I didn’t want to forgive and let those hurt feelings go. It’s just so much easier (and oh-so-satisfying) to point a finger at someone else and say (either to someone else or just internally), “Look what that horrid person did!”

But there did come a point I realized I didn’t want to carry around that baggage anymore. It just wasn’t doing me any good, and I didn’t like the visceral reaction I had inside every time I just heard the perpetrator’s name or some other reminder brought them to mind. Not only that, I consider myself a follower of Christ, and holding on to truly ugly feelings against someone else (no matter their crimes against me) certainly didn’t make me Christ-like.

I did find, though, that the lightening of that burden of hurt and anger didn’t just happen overnight. In one case, it’s taken me several years to find that I must have, somehow, really forgiven someone. But that realization did strike me fairly recently, and I was amazed to have confirmed to me that it really had happened. I remember reading this beautiful description of that dissipation in Khaled Hosseini’s fine book The Kite Runner, and I was so happy to find that it had come to my life:

Because I never noticed the night it slipped away, I didn’t realize it had happened. But it had. And that right there is a miracle, no question.