I didn't have high expectations for this film and didn't think I would like it. But I watched it ... and liked it. I was skeptical, but Kirsten Dunst - against all odds - made a pretty good young Marie Antoinette. If you can get past the American accents (after all, why do they have to be British?), this is a rather good movie. Each scene is like a painting - very beautiful. And the best thing about it is that it was filmed on location in Versailles!

This the story of Ruth and Lucille, orphans growing up in the small desolate town of Fingerbone in the vast northwest of America. After their mother's return to her hometown and her subsequent suicide (she drove off a cliff and into a lake), the two girls find themselves in the care of first their grandmother (who lost her husband to the same lake her daughter drove into), then two dotty great-aunts, and then finally their mother's sister, a married-but-separated stranger that prefers the transient lifestyle than that of the small town. The girls must come to terms with their history and each does so in her own way.

This is a haunting story about conformity, loss, and love. It's a lyrical novel, and should be read for not only the story, but the tapestry of language as well.

This book is terribly disjointed. I was only able to get through about 3/4 of it before giving up. The point of view skips around a lot, the characters--high schoolers for the most part--seem whiny and self-absorbed, focusing on the so-called main character, Johny Reddy Heart. I say so-called because John Reddy Heart's point of view--whether narrative, omniscient, or implied--is just never fully fleshed, so basically the book reads like a lusty schoolgirl's diary or an envious teammate's hitlist. And this is every chapter. I thought, maybe, once I read through one section (there are three) and started the next, that the style would change or that John Reddy Heart would take over as narrator and something would be revealed to the reader other than the 16 year old boy was electric sex on a stick. Not so!

Very disappointing and unfulfilling.

A phenomenally emotional read, at times hilarious and tragic, mundane and fantastic. I enjoyed Eire's writing style and hated coming to the end of each chapter.

A really fascinating read, touching on immigration issues. Esperanza is from the root word which means both to hope as well as to wait. Knowing that before I read it impacted my comprehension of the story immensely. If you like children's literature, definitely read this.

Hilariously disgusting, this book was my bedtime reading. I read a few chapters every night and found the each to be car-crash-rubbernecking interesting. At times, I felt I should look away, skip over this or that part; at other times, I wanted more details. Not the best book I've read lately, but a worthy read. If you like dysfunctional novels, definitely try this book.

The story was slow to start and had the makings for an uninteresting read: farm-life, monosyllabic husband, chipper wife, two girls, friends, etc. But after the friends' daughter drowns in the farm's pond, things start to pick up, especially after two McGruffs speak with Mrs. Goodwin at a school meeting. I'm not normally a fan of legal reads, but this book worked for me in spite of the heavy legal aspects. Part of that might be because the reader's privy to the accused's point of view: "narrated first by Alice, then Howard, and then Alice again, A Map of the World moves from intimate domesticity to courtroom drama with grace and subtlety. "

The reviews I read on this book consistently cited Carey's narrative style as a negative feature in this book. However, for this story, it worked particularly well. I particularly like bildungsroman novels, and while this one isn't exactly true to that genre, it has some elements nonetheless. The narration is split between the two children, Owen and Lena, and they expose the reader to life in the shadow of an older brother's unexplained disappearance. Both children struggle with identity--Owen explores his sexuality, Lena explores gender-roles--and neither character seeks out conformity. The parents in this story are largely absent, hung up, still, on the loss of their eldest son (presumed dead). Every Visible Thing is a well-woven tapestry of grief, growth, and living.

Katherine Hepburn is great as Eleanor of Aquitaine, ditto for Peter O'Toole as Henry II. A classic, although a later version with Glen Close and Patrick Stewart is not too shabby either.

This story could have ended halfway through and I would have been content with that. Instead, it went on, way past where I would have expected it to end, and each additional page felt like some secret reward. Strout writes deliberately and without trite language. She's able to masterfully capture the feel of both the single mother and her sordid past as well as the teenage daughter and her sexual awakenings. While predictable in spots (I knew that Isabelle would eventually reveal her past and that it would be somewhat identical to that of her daughter's present), there were a number of twists that were not foreseen. The final scene between Amy and Mr. Robertson was typical, yet still fresh enough that I had to read it twice before deciding to read it once more. And while teacher-student relationships are wrong, I still found myself hoping that this one would be different, sort of similar to Amy's slight obsession.

Strout incorporates the New England summer well, presenting it almost as its own character, alongside the small town snobs and busybodies that surround the tangibly difficult relationship between mother and daughter. Amy, in high school, is already at odds with her mother, as well as the world. It isn't until the new teacher takes a special interest in her that Amy blooms. Isabelle grapples with wanting to destroy her daughter, thus ending the possibilities of continually repeating the same pattern, and embracing the child she can still see in her daughter.

A rather different angle on post-Henry VIII life of his 6th wife Katherine Parr (the one who survived - albeit not for too long). I don't know if I completely buy into the scenario [SPOILER!] of Katherine Willoughby (aka Duchess of Suffolk) as Thomas Seymour's lover (simultaneously being the best friend of his new wife, the same KP). But I am willing to be open minded.. Judge for yourself.

This book had every reason to go south: judge/cop romance, school shooting, geeks vs. jocks, and so on. But Picoult writes a decent story nevertheless. While I predicted that Alex Cormier and Patrick would be dating by story's end, the road to that relationship was less predictable. The same can be said for the shooter's development--I don't think any reader would be surprised to learn that Peter Houghton is the shooter--the pale skinny kid with glasses. What holds the story together, believe it or not, is the judge's daughter Josie. Both outcast and popular, Josie's story unfolds between alternating chapters--a format that could discourage some readers that prefer a more linear tale. Overall, character development wasn't that great and I think part of that can be attributed to the jumpiness of the story: first it's the day of the shooting, then it's the month before, then the month after, then 5 months before, then 19 minutes (the title) after, then 5 months later, and so on. A lot of effort is required to keep those story lines straight when writing, and so I think character development failed because of this (Josie, early on, is presented as suicidal. This doesn't make much sense until you get to the end and the true nature of her Oh-So-Perfect relationship is revealed...).

That said, I would recommend Picoult's latest--despite its flaws, it presents an otherwise overwrought tale in a fresh way.

Animal Dreams is about two sisters (twin-like in their closeness) and how each finds her way, though that way leads them in vastly different directions. Hallie ends up in Nicaragua while Codi finds herself returning home, ostentatiously to keep an eye on her aging and ailing father. The story focuses largely on Codi's point of view, with occasional flits from her father. The father's chapters grasp the feeling of an Alzheimer's patient and you can also get some impression of what life must have been like for the two "orphaned" daughters (single father, an "outsider", orthotic shoes, and the like). Much of the story is centered around Codi's sense of loss (she loses her mother early, she loses some key memories, she loses her cool while in medical school, she loses her long-time boyfriend, she loses her sister, she loses a baby), but Codi's story is also about getting over that loss.

Clearly a debut novel, this book suffers from several things, least among those is character development. The story alternates between two distinct time periods: 1944 and the late 1800s. Predictably, 1944 is all about escaping, rationing, making do, and black-out curtains. It's a storyline that's been done before and better and really only serves as a distraction in this novel. The earlier period begins in 1886 when Emilie Floge meets Gustav Klimt. Somehow, the 12-year-old Emilie falls under the spell of the controversial libertine and before long, she's become his lover. But, she's not the only one and so the reader has to sift through half-hearted jealousy for much of the novel ("He can have Adele, Adele can have him--I do not like Gustav Klimt," then, "I shall perish without him. If only he'd paint me again!").

If you're mad for Austrian historical fiction, check this out.

What I liked about this book was that it wasn't as whimsical as some of Hoffman's other pieces. I was, however, annoyed by the relentless chipper descriptions of Ethan and his do-no-wrong self, and I don't know that all that build-up necessarily foretold the "fall". I think there could have been a more subtle way to craft this story. Instead, it was largely predictable. Not a bad read, but not something that makes me want to run out and read the rest of the author's work.

Strout seems to have developed a trademark style in just two novels: as in her first, she succinctly exposes the reader to several characters without seeming trite or concocted. This same technique I found in another novel and couldn't finish the book because the flitting back and forth proved distracting at best. I think the reason it works for Strout is she doesn't write the entire novel this way, but rather, invests short segments to multi-character parts. It works, also, because it seems to capture small-town life. In both Strout's novels, the gossiping town has played its own role in the story and the short bursts of other, secondary characters lends itself well to this.

A nice overview of the English/British monarchy, although the host tends to act a bit priggish at times.

What I liked about this book was the behind-the-scenes look at air-craft tragedies. That sounds bizarre, but it's not. Reading about it, instead, revealed humanity in its fragile state. But, reading about it also confirmed the mechanicalness of dealing with souls lost during flight.

What this story suffers from, again, is predictability. With the climatic place crash out of the way, the possibility of the husband's double-life is expected. Also, from the moment the investigator enters the scene, it is obvious that there will be a romantic interlude between him and Katharine.

The characters could stand more development, but they're not so malnourished as to make the story itself suffer. I found it easy to lose myself in the pages and difficult to stop reading at the end of my lunch hour.

Since this story has a twist at the end--one that could be perceived as subtle and thus missed if not read carefully (as in, you start skimming the last few pages because you're sure you know where this one is going, darn it), I'm not going to give away too much of the details here. The things that I'd complain about... well, they are somewhat superfluous at the end. I will say that the twist is a bit of a dirty trick and that if the lines between reality and fiction are going to be blurred, the writer has to truly be a skilled craftsman. It's not that Maupin is unskilled, but the ending jerks a little too much to be smooth. I felt a little shorted when the twist was revealed. I felt lied to and, on some level, betrayed. But, perhaps that's the whole point, given the basis for this stranger-than-fiction tale.

I wasn't sure if I was going to buy Emily Blunt as young Queen Victoria, but in the end I thought she did a very good job. A good companion to this movie would be "Mrs Brown" which sort of picks up where this one leaves off. Also, I recommend the A&E miniseries "Victoria and Albert" with Victoria Hamilton.