Hearts and Minds by Rosy Thornton

Academic fiction is a sub-genre of literary fiction. Academic fiction set at a women‘s college must then be a sub-sub-genre. The small number of books that fit the bill may explain why Rosy Thornton’s publishers have packaged this book as chick lit or romance; they didn’t know what to do with it. It’s a shame because I could have passed this by—the cover art is cartoony and features hearts and flowers and a pink bicycle. But inside is a clever, sophisticated tale about life at a women’s college in Cambridge, England.

Thornton has created a fictional college, St. Radegund’s, which has just hired a man to replace the revered Dame Emily as Head of House. James Rycarte’s struggle to lead the faculty, students, and alumnae of St. Rad’s makes a great story. Rycarte is an outsider and a realist with a clear understanding of what the college needs to stay relevant in the 21st century. He is a perfect foil for the ivory tower dwellers among the faculty and the spoiled rich girls who are the students. Only Martha Pearce, the Senior Tutor, can help Rycarte save St. Rad’s from itself. But Martha has problems of her own, including a depressed daughter, an aging mother, and a husband with a mid-life crisis.

Thornton’s writing is lively and intelligent and her characters are well drawn. I especially loved the minutiae of life at Cambridge. I didn’t always understand the roles and relationships (what is a Senior Tutor? A Head Porter?) but it didn’t matter. Thornton moves her story forward at a good pace while at the same time providing just the perfect amount of engaging details. Anyone who has worked at, or even attended a university will recognize the archetypes and will get the jokes. (It helps that Thornton is an actual professor at the actual Cambridge University.)

Rosy Thornton doesn’t seem to have a U.S. publisher but her books are available from Amazon.com and from Powells. She’s written two other titles that also sound good and she’s got a cheerful little Web site at www.rosythornton.com. Fun fun fun.

(Book 20, 2009)

The Irish Game: A True Story of Crime and Art by Matthew Hart

I like to read about art theft. There’s something so Robin Hood-ish about stealing paintings from rich folks. Of course I do know it’s wrong to steal. Art in museums belongs to everyone; I don’t want anyone to steal MY stuff, whether that stuff is in my living room or in the Smithsonian. But the crimes at the center of this book are really something: not one, not two, not three, but four separate thefts of important paintings (a Vermeer, a Gainsborough, a Rubens) from Russborough House, an isolated manor house in the Republic of Ireland. Some of the attempts were more successful than others. One thief (who was also an underworld crime figure of some repute) held the paintings for 3 years. Other attempts were botched, such as the one in 2001 where the thieves drove a truck through the house’s front door and were caught within two days.

This book has a little of everything: art crime, organized crime, the IRA, and the ways in which stolen art is used as collateral by bad guys in big drug deals. In addition to the thefts at Russborough House, Hart tells the story of several other famous art heists (including the infamous robbery of the Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum in Boston) and how they may or may not be connected to one another. The book is a little hard to follow sometimes (too many characters, especially too many guys with Irish names) and it kind of meanders off somewhere about two thirds of the way through. It also would have benefitted from more photos of the paintings in question. But still, it was pretty good, if you like this kind of thing, which obviously I do.

(Book 19, 2009)

Who Do You Think You Are? by Alyse Myers

Who Do You Think You Are? by Alyse Myers is a sad and depressing book. Alyse Myers tells the story of her unhappy childhood in Queens in the 1960’s, her turbulent relationship with her mother, and her struggle to be a better mother to her own daughter. Myers doesn’t cover a lot of new ground in this book and I found her writing to be claustrophobic and at times annoying as she repeatedly revisits her pain and her anxieties. However, I think the portrait of Myers’ mother was really interesting, and I think some readers (especially women of a certain generation) will recognize aspects of their own mothers and grandmothers in this character.

Myers’ ne’er-do-well father died when she was 11, leaving her mother (who remains nameless throughout the story) to raise Alyse and her two younger sisters alone on very little money. Her mother’s limited skills and education meant that her options were few—she got by on low wage office work. Never loving or affectionate with her children, she turned abusive after her husband’s death, focusing most of her rage on Alyse. Alyse used education as her ticket out and escaped from her mother at the earliest opportunity. Only after Alyse was happily married and a mother herself did she fully reconcile with her mother.

Why was Alyse’s mother so abusive? Why did she direct her anger at Alyse and not at her younger sisters? And why were they finally able to reconnect, toward the end of the mother’s life? Myers never explicitly spells out her interpretation but I have a theory. Her mother’s life was difficult and disappointing. She was an extreme example of the consequences of limited options and poor choices. Alyse, on the other hand, was a smart girl who was aiming high. This was threatening to her mother, but even more, her mother saw it as dangerous. What if Alyse ended up as disappointed in life as her mother was? Better to rein Alyse in, push her back down, than to see her dreams crushed like her mother’s were. Alyse’s younger sisters were not as challenging to their mother, not as obviously destined for success. It wasn’t necessary to send the same message. The two women could only reconcile when it was clear that Alyse’s life was happy and complete; the abuse was no longer necessary.

I think it was common for girls raised in the 1960’s and earlier to hear the question “Who do you think you are?” The subtext of that question is “don’t get above yourself, don’t think you are anyone special.” It’s a way of diminishing expectations, of protecting against future disappointments. No one will treat you like a princess when you are grown, so don’t expect it now. Of course Alyse’s mother carried this to extremes, but I don’t think her motivations were so unusual, or even necessarily evil.

(Book 18, 2009)

The Life and Times of the Thunderbolt Kid by Bill Bryson

Yesterday I finished listening to The Life and Times of the Thunderbolt Kid by Bill Bryson on a device called a Playaway. Have you heard of these? They are little digital audio devices (smaller and lighter than a deck of cards) that come preloaded with an audiobook. The Madison Public library has recently begun lending them. They come complete with a battery and headphones (along with polite instructions about cleaning the earbuds with alcohol before using). The Playaway takes all the bother out of listening to audiobooks; no more bulky cassette players, no more ripping CDs to your iPod. The Playaway Web site says that the universal headphone jack allows use with different kinds of output devices including FM transmitters, so perhaps you could use one of these in your car. It even comes with a handy lanyard for hanging around your neck. I felt a tiny bit dorky wearing it this way but not enough to make me not do it.

Bryson reads this book himself; it’s his memoir of growing up in Des Moines, Iowa in the 1950’s and it’s totally entertaining. In truth, it’s more than a memoir, it’s a history of the 1950’s from the point of view of a child. Thus for example, atomic air raid drills are remembered not for the horror of possible nuclear annihilation but for the sight of the teacher (Mrs. Enormous-Bosom) taking shelter under her desk, her large behind not quite fitting underneath. Bryson avoids maudlin self-indulgence by anchoring his personal story in the larger world. He includes longer sections about U.S. society in the 1950’s: race relations, foreign policy, and an endearing portrait of his mother who worked full time as a reporter for the Des Moines Register back in the days when few women worked outside the home.

Bryson’s childhood sounds idyllic. He describes with delight the days spent on his bicycle, the hoards of children in his neighborhood, the endless road trips in the back of a station wagon, and the sights and sounds of downtown Des Moines before it was leveled for redevelopment. Bryson enjoyed the kind of freedom that was so common in the 1950’s and so uncommon now. While I am younger than Bryson, I too remember being kicked out of the house early on a summer morning with a peanut butter sandwich in my pocket, instructed not to return until dark. This book evokes great memories for baby boomers, but I think anyone of any age would enjoy it.

The book is (like all Bryson books) extremely funny. If you happened to see a woman walking around Madison wearing a weird square thing around her neck and giggling hysterically, that would be me.

(Book 17, 2009)