The Outside Boy

Novel by Jeanine Cummins

"But as he stood and brushed his hands against his trousers, I had the feeling I'd taken something very big from him. Like he'd seen I was missing a leg, so he'd lopped his own one off and gave it to me."

" 'F***ing Americans,' I said quietly.
Why did they always have to go reviving everything? Martin looked at me distastefully, which I knew was probably because any curse on the Americans was really a blaspheme against Elvis. He shook his head at me slowly."

Behold the genius of The Outside Boy. From the point of view of an adolescent boy-Irish Traveller (gypsy) in the late 1950's, you get beautifully seriousness metaphors about his complicated relationship with his dad, and hilariously serious narration about the most important things to boys his age: girls and Elvis. Christy, as the boy is called, is also searching for the truth about his mother, who apparently died in childbirth, and trying to fit into a town for the first time in his life. It's classic coming of age, but in a different setting than I've ever imagined.

I think it's interesting that there is so much, well, interest, in all manner of gypsies these days. The TV reality series"My Big Fat Gypsy Wedding" on TLC was kind of horrifying, but it marks a renewed curiosity about this way of life.  This book, published in 2010, piggybacks on that. It treats the Travelling culture (really, with two l's, I checked) carefully, portraying it as wonderful for its freedom and pitiable for its poverty and subsequent "need" for thievery. I don't really know enough about the recent or modern gypsy culture to have an opinion, but I do want to find out more now.

I liked this book.  Christy is a very appealing character, and there's a bit of a mystery, accents (my favorite!), and anthropology. And no wonder--this was actually recommended to me, rather than picked at random off the library shelves. I will pay it forward and recommend it to you!

City of Thieves

Novel by David Benioff

Yeah, it's been a long time since I've posted, which means I'm not exactly flying through the books. Too many Christmas cards to address and magazines to read, and not enough books I'm really loving. The most recent was another dubious find from library book club section. This fictional take on the historical siege of Leningrad during World War II is engaging and horrifying at the same time. It combined some of the things I love about a story with many of the things I hate.

The book starts off in one of my favorite ways: with a frame. It's narrated initially by a young American writer interviewing his grandfather, who then becomes the narrator, like in the movie version of The Princess Bride. The grandfather then tells of his experience as a young man, being commanded by a powerful Russian general to find a dozen eggs in the nearly foodless, blockaded city of Leningrad. I love this approach because it's like two stories in one.  By the time I got to the end, I had forgotten about the grandpa from the beginning, and realizing he was the one living through the story was like experiencing it all over again.

I also enjoyed reading about Leningrad in the 1940's and Russian culture in general--I only really know about Russian culture from movies (embarrassing ones like Anastasia) so I learned a great deal. And for some reason, books about WWII continue to attract even this generation. I found myself thinking about that while I read and wondering if 9/11 would ever have the same kind of powerful place in literature and movies. Anyway, the historical fiction element, plus a sweet ending, made this book sort of enjoyable.

The downside, though: I literally had to skip whole pages because of the violence and end-of-the-world type of activities of the characters. Death is everywhere, from starvation, cannibalism, cold, guns, bombs, dogs...and the characters go back and forth between disgust, mourning, and nonchalance as they are constantly stepping over dead bodies. I hate how cynical and paranoid this kind of stuff makes me feel. It makes me want to become a hoarder. I don't like it.

So you have to make your own decision (as always): does the good plot, transportation to another world, and engaging characterization outweigh the desperate, wormy feeling that some scenes will give you in your tummy? The choice is yours. But my choice is clear: when I go to the library with my daughter during Christmas vacation, I must not check out any more books. I need to read the vast pile on my night stand of books actually recommended by someone I know and trust, not ones that I judge by the cover. Mmmm, Isabel Allende...