Tag: Reading New England

Reading New England: Mayflower Discussion Part II

It’s time for the second half of our discussion of the Reading New England readalong book, Mayflower by Nathaniel Philbrick. Thanks again to Katie of Doing Dewey for co-hosting this discussion with me — she came up with the following questions for Parts III and IV of the book, and you can read her answers over on her blog.

Whether you read along with us or not, I hope you enjoyed our discussion! Once more, the questions are listed below by themselves, and then repeated with my own answers. A linkup follows for your own posts, or please feel free to join the conversation in the comments.

  • Having finished the author’s more nuanced portrayal of the pilgrims’ story, do you think either the founding myths (“the time-honored tradition of how the Pilgrims came to symbolize all that is good about America and the now equally familiar modern tale of how the evil Europeans annihilated the innocent Native Americans”) is accurate?
  • Do you think the conflict between the European settlers and the Native Americans was inevitable?
  • In the conflict, do you think one side clearly had the moral high ground?
  • Was there anything that particularly surprised you in the second half of the book?
  • Overall, what did you think of the book?

 

Having finished the author’s more nuanced portrayal of the pilgrims’ story, do you think either the founding myths (“the time-honored tradition of how the Pilgrims came to symbolize all that is good about America and the now equally familiar modern tale of how the evil Europeans annihilated the innocent Native Americans”) is accurate?

As with most myths we create for ourselves, there’s some truth in both of them, but it limits our understanding to put things in such black and white terms. This book helped me to see how the Pilgrims were a flawed and fallible set of human beings, and how their relationship with the Native Americans involved phases of cooperation, communication, and mutual support, as well as theft and exploitation.

Do you think the conflict between the European settlers and the Native Americans was inevitable?

I think some kind of conflict was probably inevitable as the European population grew and they wanted to occupy more land, although it could have been delayed for quite a while by a more diplomatic handling of the situation. It’s hard to imagine another alternative — at the time intermarriage and mixing of the races would have been utterly unthinkable, so the only way the Natives could survive would either be to convert to Christianity and act as servants of the settlers, or leave for another territory. Which, as we know, would eventually be taken over by Europeans as well.

In the conflict, do you think one side clearly had the moral high ground?

King Philip – source

I could sympathize with Philip’s desperation as his people’s way of life was threatened, but his actions and those of his troops were often not very noble or well-judged — from impulsive decisions, botched alliances, and tactical errors, to running away when things got sticky. Lashing out against the Europeans must have seemed emotionally satisfying, but as it turned out it wasn’t in their best interests.

On the other hand, though the settlers didn’t consciously instigate the conflict, they should have been more aware of the way their actions were pushing Philip to retaliate. And once they got into the fighting they were pretty ruthless. The scene of a fort full of women and children being destroyed was particularly gruesome. It was also interesting to note that the Indians didn’t rape female captives, as was standard practice with European warfare. Although there seemed to be a few Pilgrims who saw the Indians as human beings and potential allies, most treated them in a peremptory and insensitive way.

Was there anything that particularly surprised you in the second half of the book?

I was surprised at how devastating the conflict was for the Native population of the region. As well as killing off a huge number, it also spurred the English to sell the survivors into slavery on the Caribbean sugar plantations (which was tantamount to death). It really backfired on them — and on the English as well, who now lacked the friendly Indian allies to protect them from hostile tribes. It was an event that had a major impact on our early history, yet we don’t seem to hear much about it.

Overall, what did you think of the book?

I found it very educational but sometimes a bit hard to slog through, particularly in the “War” section — reading about wars and battles is generally difficult for me as I tend to lose interest in the details of tactics and troop movements. Sometimes I had a hard time keeping track of who was who with the large cast of characters and many different Indian tribes.

However, I do recommend the book for anyone who wants to learn more about this period of American history, and especially how the Plymouth colony evolved after that first iconic year. It was also interesting for me to imagine early colonial life in the region close to where I now live, with many mentions of places I visit or drive through. I will look at them with new eyes now!

Have you read Mayflower? What did you think? Link up your posts at Doing Dewey, or join the discussion in the comments!

Reading New England Wrap-up

Reading New England

Reading New England

This is my personal wrap-up and summary post for the challenge. A giveaway is coming on December 30, open to everyone (participants can earn extra entries, though). Please watch for it, and do link up your own posts in the meantime!

Well, this has been quite a year in many ways. One thing that made it special — in a much more pleasurable way than some others — was the Reading New England challenge, which I launched twelve months ago in order to explore the literature of the region where I live, in company with anyone else who might be interested. I’m by no means done with reading from the New England Book List, but here is what I read this year (with links to reviews, where applicable):

 

I particularly enjoyed putting together various features and guest posts that focused on New England publishers, authors, literary sites, and more:

 

Thanks to all who have stayed with me through the challenge, making it much more fun than it would have been on my own, and to all who posted and linked their own reviews. A few more were added this month:

 

If you haven’t already, please be sure to link your reviews on the Genre Post or State Post pages. As mentioned above, on December 30, there will be a chance to enter a giveaway, and linking up will earn you chances to win extra books!

If you achieved your challenge goals, congratulations! If not, there are still a few days left in 2016… Do let me know how you’re doing, and what you still want to read, either this year or in the future. Though I won’t be running this challenge again in 2017, we can all still enjoy reading and discussing the many-faceted literature of New England.

Reading New England: Mayflower Discussion Part I

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Welcome to Part I of the Reading New England/Nonfiction Book Club discussion of Nathaniel Philbrick’s Mayflower. I’m so pleased that Katie of Doing Dewey agreed to co-host this readalong with me! Please hop over to her blog to see her answers to the following questions, which were written by me after reading parts I and II of the book. Katie will create another set of questions about parts III and IV of the book, to be posted on December 23.

The questions are listed below by themselves, and then repeated with my own answers. A linkup follows for your own posts, or please feel free to join the discussion in the comments.

  • What was your previous understanding of the Pilgrims’ journey and landing in North America? Did Philbrick’s presentation change or amplify anything for you?
  • In his preface, Philbrick states that his initial impression of the period was “bounded by two conflicting preconceptions: the time-honored tradition of how the Pilgrims came to symbolize all that is good about America and the now equally familiar modern tale of how the evil Europeans annihilated the innocent Native Americans,” but that he found that the reality was less predictable than that. Given that we’re only talking about the first half of the book so far, have you found him successful in conveying a more complex view?
  • Do you think that any characteristics or concerns of the Pilgrims still persist in our national character today? How do you see these manifesting?
  • The Pilgrims’ relationship with the Native Americans, and specifically with Massasoit, was crucial to their survival. What stood out for you in this aspect of the narrative? Were there any surprises, or anything particularly interesting or disturbing?
  • Do you think the title “Mayflower” fits the book so far? If not, would you have a different title to suggest?

 

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The Pilgrims’ First Winter – 19th century engraving

What was your previous understanding of the Pilgrims’ journey and landing in North America? Did Philbrick’s presentation change or amplify anything for you?

My knowledge of this period in history was scanty and vague. I knew some English Puritans went to America in order to be able to worship as they wished, and that they sailed on a ship called the Mayflower — it didn’t occur to me to inquire further into the details. I was surprised at how perilous a scheme it really was, with difficulties finding a seaworthy ship, delays resulting in a late start, arrival in an unexpectedly cold winter, and differences of opinion among the passengers and crew. I didn’t realize they didn’t even mean to land in present-day Massachusetts, or that they tried to sail south and couldn’t pass the treacherous shoals. I also didn’t know that the Puritans were backed by commercial interests, which expected them to make a profit rather than simply sustain themselves. These were just some of the new insights that I gained — so, yes, I’d say my understanding was greatly expanded and enriched.

In his preface, Philbrick states that his initial impression of the period was “bounded by two conflicting preconceptions: the time-honored tradition of how the Pilgrims came to symbolize all that is good about America and the now equally familiar modern tale of how the evil Europeans annihilated the innocent Native Americans,” but that he found that the reality was less predictable than that. Given that we’re only talking about the first half of the book so far, have you found him successful in conveying a more complex view?

I did think Philbrick did a good job here, with the limitation (as he admits himself) that the historical record comes to us through the white settlers; we don’t have the first-hand Native accounts that would help to create a truly rounded view. The uneasy, fragile alliance between the Pilgrims and some of their Native neighbors was not a simple thing, and I’m curious to see in the second half what happens as it disintegrates.

Do you think that any characteristics or concerns of the Pilgrims still persist in our national character today? How do you see these manifesting?

I think the twin demons of fanatical separatism and commercial greed, both of which sped the Pilgrims on their way, are still with us today. A certain inability to work with and adjust to one’s neighbors, independence to the nth power, is showing itself in the ugliest and most divisive way in the political sphere, while our unsustainable consumer-driven lifestyle is driving us to the edge of environmental collapse.

On the other hand, the ability to imagine a different future, strike out against incredible odds, and create something new is also a very real part of our heritage, and one that we need to transform into a positive impulse that benefits all of humanity instead of just one group.

The Pilgrims’ relationship with the Native Americans, and specifically with Massasoit, was crucial to their survival. What stood out for you in this aspect of the narrative? Were there any surprises, or anything particularly interesting or disturbing?

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Profile Rock in Assonet, MA, said to be an image of Massasoit.

I thought it was telling that almost the Pilgrims’ first act upon setting foot on New World soil was to steal a stash of Native corn, intending to pay for it later, but not doing so until confronted with their illicit action. That’s another national tendency, I’d say.

I’d heard (vaguely, again) of Squanto as a helper and interpreter for the Pilgrims, but I didn’t know about his bid to replace Massasoit as leader of the tribe, or about the rival warrior, Hobbamock. I though it was fascinating that both were named for the Native spirit of darkness and death, and that the self-righteous Pilgrims in a sense had to make a contract with the devil (according to their own worldview).

This culminated in the massacre of the rival Native faction at the end of this part of the book, which started with Miles Standish’s extremely dishonorable act of killing enemies he had invited for a meal. It made a rather sobering counterpoint to our Thanksgiving meal celebrations.

Do you think the title “Mayflower” fits the book so far? If not, would you have a different title to suggest?

I think “Mayflower” was a bit misleading as a title, as the journey on the ship was a relatively small part of the book. I think Philbrick meant it as a metaphor for the overall journey of the Pilgrims and their colony, and in that sense it might work. Perhaps the book could have been called “The Pilgrims” or “Plymouth”? “Mayflower” is more inviting, and carries connotations of spring growth and new life, but since the second part of the book is going to involve an incredibly bloody conflict I’m not sure that’s appropriate.

Have you read Mayflower? What did you think? Link up your posts below, or join the discussion in the comments!
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Reading New England: The Institute Library (guest post)

Reading New England

For a final Reading New England feature, I asked Chris of WildMoo Books whether she might like to contribute one of her wonderful library posts. Chris is a Connecticut resident, but she also travels far and wide, and wherever she goes she likes to take pictures of interesting libraries and share them with us. Please be sure to check them out here!

For her guest post, Chris picked the Institute Library in New Haven, Connecticut — a place I’ve never heard of, but definitely want to visit now. Many thanks to Chris for this virtual tour of one of New England’s hidden treasures.

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The Institute Library
Guest post by Chris of WildMoo Books

When Lory invited me to write a library post for her Read New England challenge I immediately said yes. There are so many fantastic libraries in New England—from charming small community libraries to powerhouse city libraries to Ivy League college libraries. There was no lack of inspiration, rather the challenge was to narrow down the options. I kept coming back to The Institute Library of New Haven, CT.

Founded in 1826, The Institute Library is one of the last remaining membership libraries in America. It also has its own classification system developed by one of its early librarians, William A. Borden. You can read about the library’s history and current events at their website: institutelibrary.org

The mission of the Institute Library is to fulfill its historical purpose of “mutual assistance in the attainment of useful knowledge” for its members and the New Haven community at large through literature, civil discourse, and the arts.

I hope you’ll enjoy this short look into The Institute Library.

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The Institute Library had several homes since its founding in 1826 until this four story brick building was erected for the Institute in 1878. The ground floor is a retail space (currently for rent).

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The entrance to the library. Members and guests ring a bell and are buzzed in via intercom.

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The staircase leading from the front door up to the library are lit via transparent kickboards on the staircase directly above which gets direct sunlight from large windows facing the street. An elevator installation is one of the library’s upcoming improvement projects.

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Through doors at the top of the stair members are greeted by a display of the library’s newest acquisitions. Behind this is the circulation desk. Notice the card catalog to the right.

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When you turn to the right from here there are two displays of recent acquisitions, one for fiction, one for nonfiction.

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Turn to the right one more time and you’re facing the front of the library. The tall windows provide excellent lighting. In the daytime lights are not needed for reading in this room.

Comfy reading chairs in front of the windows offer an excellent place to curl up with a good book.

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Looking from the front of the library toward the back. The bookcase on the left is a complete set of the Library of America editions.

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A periodicals spinner near the front windows. Notice the stairs in the background and their transparent kickboards—these light the staircase below.

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Some of the early librarians who served the Institute Library.

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The library’s card catalog stands tall in the reference section, just across from the circulation desk.

 

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Looking through the card catalog is a joy, so many graceful and diverse handwriting styles to admire from various hands.

 

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Taken from the middle area of the library. The reference section is to the left and library offices to the right.

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Standing in the stacks looking toward the back of the library.

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In the stacks. Each aisle has its own light with a long pull. Members turn on lights as needed.

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The back room where events take place and board meetings are held. This table has been at the library since it opened. The door to the right leads to a small lounge and the bathroom.

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The lounge features comfortable reading chairs and there’s also a writing desk in a small alcove just across from the chairs.

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There are several skylights in the building. Notice the gears. The writing above the doorway reads: “instructions: create what you long for.”

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A reproduction of an original bookplate from the Mechanic Library of New Haven, 1792.

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If you’re near New Haven or find yourself passing through, be sure to stop and visit The Institute Library. It is a vibrant historical treasure that continues to play an important role in the literary life of its members and New Haven.

The Institute Library
847 Chapel Street
New Haven, CT 06510 |
(203) 562-4045
institutelibrary.org

Reading New England: Three plays by Eugene O’Neill

Eugene O’Neill, Long Day’s Journey into Night (1941)
Eugene O’Neill, Ah, Wilderness! (1933)
Eugene O’Neill, A Moon for the Misbegotten (1943)

oneillplaysBefore I embarked on the Reading New England challenge, I had no awareness of Eugene O’Neill as a Connecticut author. My experience of his plays was limited to a reading of Mourning Becomes Electra in high school, which involved heavy emphasis on the symbolism and parallels to classical drama, rather than on O’Neill’s own life.

In fact, as the son of a touring actor, though O’Neill was born and went to school in New York, he spent summers at the family cottage in New London, Connecticut. He attended Harvard briefly, did a stint at sea, and became involved with the Provincetown (Massachusetts) Players, a collective of artists, writers, and theater enthusiasts that produced some of his early works before they moved on to Broadway. With fame and increased wealth came sojourns in exotic places — the Loire Valley, the Georgia Sea Islands, Bermuda — but he died in a Boston hotel. (Born in a hotel room, died in a hotel room, he quipped near the end.)

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O’Neill (right) with his family on Cape Cod, 1922

The first O’Neill work I read for its Connecticut connection was Long Day’s Journey into Night, a searing fictional portrayal of his own tortured family that is set in the New London cottage — which is open as a museum today, decorated as described in the play. He gave orders for it not to be published until 25 years after his death and never performed, but his widow, as literary executor, ignored both instructions and the American theater gained an instant classic.

With his minute rendering of the painful relationships within a family riven by alcoholism, money problems, addiction, and illness, O’Neill displays great psychological insight and dramatic skill. Hoping against hope that there will be change for the better, the characters yet inexorably slide into old habits of sloth, cowardice, and denial. As their intimate dialogue plays out before us, over the course of a single day and past the midnight hour, they evoke pity and horror at the nightmare that life has become for them.

“The fog was where I wanted to be. Halfway down the path you can’t see this house. You’d never know it was here. Or any of the other places down the avenue. I couldn’t see but a few feet ahead. I didn’t meet a soul. Everything looked and sounded unreal. Nothing was what it is. That’s what I wanted — to be alone with myself in another world where truth is untrue and life can hide from itself. Out beyond the harbor, where the road runs along the beach, I even lost the feeling of being on land. The fog and the sea seemed part of each other. It was like walking on the bottom of the sea. As if I had drowned long ago. As if I was a ghost belonging to the fog, and the fog was the ghost of the sea. It felt damned peaceful to be nothing more than a ghost within a ghost.”

O’Neill put these words into the mouth of the character representing himself, and to me they captured the feeling of the play as a whole — I was reading of people whose souls had died long ago, but who were doomed to replay their tormented lives into infinity. The only way they could rest was to lose themselves in oblivion.

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O’Neill’s gravestone

Most of O’Neill’s plays are tragic, if not all quite this tragic. However, he could also write in a different vein, as shown by his earlier comedy Ah, Wilderness! — also set in Connecticut, but in a nostalgic, idealized small-town setting at the turn of the twentieth century. Its coming-of-age story of a boy who rebels mildly against his warm, loving family, but ultimately returns to their wholesome ideals, is generally described as O’Neill’s vision of the childhood he wished he had had.

Perhaps because I had just read Long Day’s Journey, though, it seemed to me that there were seeds of trouble within the harmony. An alcoholic uncle is played as a source of fun, but I couldn’t help thinking that the characters were blinding themselves to the true horrors of his condition. And the ending, in which the boy and his girlfriend naively pledge themselves to one another, appeared to me a recipe for disaster. What would happen when the boy outgrew his rather bland and stupid first love? These questions are blithely ignored in the play itself, but are the kind of subjects that O’Neill explored so thoroughly elsewhere.

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Poster from the 2000 revival of Moon

A more mature and nuanced love story is the subject of A Moon for the Misbegotten, a third and as far as I know final play set in Connecticut. Here, we visit a dilapidated, hardscrabble farm tenanted by an Irishman and his long-suffering daughter (his sons have been driven away by his tyrannical ways). O’Neill returns to some of the characters and motifs, and even some bits of dialogue of Long Day’s Journey — which, of course, he never expected to be produced — and gives them a slightly more hopeful trajectory.

Centering on the characters representing O’Neill’s alcoholic older brother, and the outwardly rough but inwardly tender woman who hopelessly loves him, it takes us through another long night of suffering into a dawn that brings a strangely poignant redemption. Though their brokenness is too deep for them ever to be truly whole, the fact that they can yet see and acknowledge the human essence in one another brings a touch of grace, of salvation.

Following the utter darkness of Long Day’s Journey into Night, and the artificial brightness of Ah, Wilderness!, I was glad to finish this dramatic journey with the benign, soothing shimmer of moonlight. All three plays, though, are certainly worth your attention. If you’ve ever seen any memorable productions, I would love to hear about them, too.

Classics Club list #19

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Reading New England: Connecticut

Reading New England

It’s hard to believe, but we’ve reached the last state for the Reading New England challenge: Connecticut. Some would argue that this state doesn’t even belong to the region, so influenced is it by the sprawl of New York City. But though it does host a large number of bedroom communities along its commuter corridor, geographically and historically Connecticut is definitely part of New England. One may have to dig a little deeper for those roots, but they are there.

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A 1625 map of Connecticut

It doesn’t help that some of the state’s most famous authors wrote almost exclusively about other places — Mark Twain and Harriet Beecher Stowe, for example. And some of the most well-known books — such as the Babysitter’s Club series, or The Stepford Wives — take place in a rather generic suburban setting. Of course, one could argue that representing the epitome of American suburbia is one of the distinctions of Connecticut, but I hold that there’s more to be found in out-of-the-way corners.

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Crosswicks house in Goshen, CT

There are the wonderful Crosswicks Journals of Madeleine L’Engle, about her family’s life in an old farmhouse. There’s Homecoming by Cynthia Voigt, in which a teenager undertakes a brave journey with her young siblings from Massachusetts to Maryland. There are authors I had never realized were from Connecticut, but who have set a small but significant part of their work there: Tomie dePaola and Eugene O’Neill, to name but two. And new releases like Mystic Summer, A Study in Charlotte, and The Children seem to be breathing some fresh life into the region.

So I hope you’ll share your Connecticut discoveries with us, as we bring this amazing year of exploration to a close. And looking ahead to next month, I hope you’ll consider joining in the readalong of Mayflower by Nathaniel Philbrick. At this time of crisis, I’m looking forward to delving into our history and seeing something of how we got here.

Reading New England readalong announcement

Reading New England Mayflower

Reading New England

As my year-long Reading New England challenge draws to a close, I’d like to finish with a book we can all read together. After mulling over the many unread books on my list, I decided on Mayflower by Nathaniel Philbrick, a nonfiction account of the first sixty years of the Plymouth colony, which ended with the bloody conflict known as King Philip’s War.

Reading New England Mayflower

I chose this title because I’ve never read Philbrick and wanted to sample some of this acclaimed New England writer’s work, and also because I was interested in learning more about a period of history that has been so endlessly replayed in our national consciousness — in school, it felt like we started history class over every year with the Pilgrims — without being truly understood. I’m particularly hoping that Philbrick will bring some new perspectives to the displacement of Native Americans, which tends to be glossed over in our American celebrations of liberty and thanksgiving. It should form an important complement to some other books I’ve read about the New England roots of slavery.

I’m happy to announce that this readalong will be in conjunction with the Nonfiction Book Club hosted each month by Katie of Doing Dewey. During December, we will be posting discussion questions that can be taken up in the comments or in your own posts.

Our discussion questions will be posted as follows:

Dec 11th – Part I and II Discussion Questions

Dec 22nd – Part III and IV Discussion Questions

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Thanks so much to Katie for being willing to co-host with me! If you enjoy the readalong, do visit her blog each month for more wonderful nonfiction reading opportunities. During this month in particular, she’s coordinating Nonfiction November for even more celebration and sharing.

So get your copy ready and join us next month. I’m looking forward to some great discussion.

Reading New England: The Witches of Eastwick

John Updike, The Witches of Eastwick (1984)

eastwickWhen I said I planned to read The Witches of Eastwick for the Reading New England challenge, I also said I didn’t expect to enjoy it — and I was right, I didn’t. So this is going to be one of the rare times on this blog when I talk about a book I did not like at all. Usually I prefer not to spend my blogging time on negativity, but this time I do want to try to work through my thoughts and see if I can articulate them in a comprehensible way. If you’ve read the book, I’d be very interested to hear yours as well — whether you agree with me or not.

According to the author himself, this is a book about female power; some even consider it a feminist book. But the power is entirely negative, life-denying, solipsistic. The witches themselves (three middle-aged women in the coastal Rhode Island town of Eastwick, who gain magical powers upon losing their men through divorce or death), are primarily interested in having affairs with a succession of local men, crowned by the newcomer to the town, Darryl Van Horne. All the men are unattractive, but Darryl — who is never explicitly identified with the Devil — is the most horrendous of all, with his ice-cold semen and rampant vulgarity. Yet the witches are obsessed with him and become murderously jealous when he takes up with a younger woman, with disastrous results. Does this lead them a moral awakening? No, only a few minor qualms, followed by escape with another set of magically conjured men. The end.

It was striking to me that the witches are all mothers, but they have barely any scenes with their children. They complain about them, they plot how to get them out of the way so they can have sex with their lovers, they groan about what terrible mothers they are. But we almost never see them interacting with them, and more than anything else, this made the book seem like a male fantasy to me. Get the children out of the way; insinuate yourself into the female brain, and see how all she thinks about is you, you, you. Other women are just obstructions to be gotten out of the way, or to make victims of petty revenge and spite; even animals who interfere with the pursuit of selfish pleasure are simply objects to be destroyed at will. And men are also objects of mere desire, disposed of when they become boring. Naturally, female power has a dark side, and maybe that’s all that Updike set out to portray; but I do not believe that’s all there is to it.

The handling of magic also bothered me. The book’s premise is that when women become free of the confines of marriage, they become witches in the literal, medieval sense: sprouting extra nipples to suckle their familiars, saying backwards Latin chants, making wax figures, and so on. This seems to be Updike’s idea of a joke; the novel takes place during the Vietnam era, when such women in a small town would indeed have been thought of as witches — so why not make that the truth?

The thing is, this spontaneous arising of witchcraft out of nowhere does not entirely make sense. Sometimes it’s intuitive and psychologically true (the witches making an image to destroy their enemy); other times it’s silly and over the top (turning tennis balls into various objects during a game). Some of their spells are primitive forms of sympathetic magic; others are more sophisticated, like the backward prayers that pop into their heads untaught. The mix of magics felt random and sloppy to me, and too un-subtle in its manifestations.

Was there anything I did appreciate? Well, Updike writes in a highly sensuous, tactile way, and turns some beautiful phrases. Nearly every description turns into a sexual reference, of course, making one feel trapped in the mind of a twelve-year-old boy, but at doing that he is very effective. Darryl, in all his sliminess, was a rather brilliant modern take on the unholy charms of the Devil; his sermon (held in a Unitarian church) was disgustingly mesmerizing, and his “Vote for me” ending fit right in with the political situation, both then and now. And there was one character for whom I felt a smidgen of sympathy and understanding, one of the men who is driven by the witches into madness and suicide. Finally, I felt there was a human character I could believe in — not particularly like or identify with, but at least find convincing. So it might be worth reading one of Updike’s books centered on the male perspective, where his writing might ring more true. This one, I’m afraid, held no magic for me.

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Reading New England Round-up: October 2016

Reading New England

Reading New England

We’re in the final stretch of the Reading New England challenge, and some participants have already met their goals and shared updates on their progress. However, even if you’re late to the party, you can still take part by reading just one book, or participate in our readalong in December (details to be announced soon).

As usual, I’ve so much enjoyed seeing what everybody else has been reading. Here are the reviews:

 

And some update posts:

  • Lark of Lark Writes… completed the six-state challenge. Hooray!
  • At Adventures of a Bibliophile, Stephanie has been keeping up with her goal of one book per month for the challenge, along with an impressive array of other challenges.

 

Plus other links of interest:

  • A visit to the Robert Frost Farm, from Parade (I got lost when I tried to find it a couple of weeks ago, so was happy to have the virtual tour)
  • As Matthew was approaching, some hurricane books (from New England and elsewhere) were suggested by Books on the Table.

 

Reading New England Round-Up: September 2016

Reading New England

Reading New England

It’s with some sadness that I announce that for now I’ll no longer be doing a monthly Link Love post. I enjoyed it, but it was very time-consuming — so I’m going to try using my time in a different way and see how that feels. Maybe I’ll change my mind before too long!

I’m going to try to be more active with posting links on my Facebook and Twitter accounts, so please follow me there if you like.

For the remainder of this year, I will still plan to do a round-up of posts for the Reading New England challenge every month or so. With four months of the challenge to go, I’m glad to see that some readers are sticking with it and getting through the various categories. However, even if you read only one book, you are welcome to participate. Don’t feel it’s too late!

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Mt. Hight in the White Mountains (photo by Ken Gallagher, via Wikimedia)

Here’s what I’ve seen recently:

  • Penni of Penni’s Perceptions was a little disappointed in Orange Is the New Black, set in a Connecticut prison, but she would still like to check out the popular show. She found a more compelling read in The Secrets of Midwives, a novel set in Rhode Island that explores mother-daughter relationships.
  • From Other Side of the Sun, we learned of three books about walking the Appalachian trail, including its sections in Maine, New Hampshire, and Vermont.
  • Laurie of Relevant Obscurity delved into a couple of Massachusetts classics: The Blithedale Romance, based on an ill-fated utopian experiment, and Looking Backward, which imagines a utopian society with some interesting but not entirely satisfying results.
  • Continuing with the Massachusetts classics, Stephanie of Adventures of a Bibliophile conquered the giant Moby-Dick, and followed it up with a picture book chaser: Make Way for Ducklings.
  • At Monica’s Bookish Life, American Bloomsbury was a fascinating nonfiction read for those interested in the Transcendentalists and their period.
  • Getting a bit less serious, Clock and Dagger was another fun cozy mystery reviewed by Carstairs Considers. He also enjoyed Whispers from Beyond the Veil, a historical mystery set in Maine that centers on the Victorian craze for spiritualism.
  • The Munich Girl is set partly in New Hampshire and partly in Nazi Germany, juxtaposing a present-day story with that of the infamous Eva Braun. Chris of Calmgrove found it a remarkable piece of writing. He also ventured to Massachusetts with the intrepid Dido Twite, in Nightbirds on Nantucket. And don’t miss his map-laden tour of Dido’s travels!
  • Finally, from Lark Writes we learn of a historical mystery set in Gilded Age Newport, appropriately titled A Gilded Grave.

 

Not posted for the challenge, but of related interest:

  • From Books as Food, a couple of newly opened or forthcoming art exhibitions featuring Childe Hassam and William Merritt Chase. I really hope I can manage to visit these.
  • Bay State Reader’s Advisory offers three mini-reviews of New England mysteries, helpful if you’re looking for something to read for the SF/mystery category.
  • Bibliophile by the Sea came up with a useful list of great books set in New England. How many have you read?
  • This is an old post, but I was so delighted to find it: from Staircase Wit, a visit to the real-life location of Maida’s Little Island!
  • New England on a Budget offers a list of great independent bookstores in Massachusetts. I’ve been to half of them, but the rest are calling me now.

 

As usual, thank you all for your interest and participation. It’s been a great year so far.