Irises – Francisco X. Stork
Narrated by Carrington Macduffy

I think I might not need explain why I chose this particular audiobook. Given my first name, anything that carries the name “Iris” has an almost irrational appeal for me.

Thus, when Audiobook Sync had Irises as part of their free download list last year, I could hardly resist. By the way, I should probably add that I love the idea behind Sync and that even though not all of their titles appeal to me, it is a great way to discover new-to-me authors or books that I might never have heard of otherwise. Irises and Francisco X. Stork are a great example of that.

In Irises, the reader follows two sisters, Kate and Mary, while they struggle to face the challenges of their newly changed life. Raised by their loving but strict parents, everything changes when their mother becomes comatose after a car accident, and their father, who used to be the minister of the local church, dies of a heart attack. Kate and Mary both have their own dreams and talents. Kate is bound for Stanford and Med School, while Mary is a talented painter of mostly flowers. But faced with the grief and new responsibilities and difficulties upon the loss of their father and the effort to take the best care of their mother, both Kate and Mary need to reevaluate their own dreams and their responsibilities and love for each other.

Honestly? I almost did not continue listening to this book after the first disc. Their father being a Christian minister, and Kate and Mary often reflecting on their belief, the restrictions they experienced in it, the joy it could bring them.. Not to mention the overtly dramatic and somewhat.. surreal? opening scene.. It should have been a story that appealed to me but instead I found myself hesitating: was this going to be the same old story of loss and acceptance? Was this going to be too Christian without raising questions for me to feel comfortable with?

I admit, and I knew, this is (apart from the opening scene which really was not all that good) my own personal background speaking: being raised in an atheist family, it somehow became ingrained to turn away from any media that might veer towards evangelisation. Not that I think this book does so. Upon reflection, I don’t think those feelings do the book any justice. Instead, I feel the book offers (what I expect to be) a realistic portrayal of the different meanings faith can have in human life, without making it only about faith, and not only about the positive sides of it either, but instead integrating it in a story that is about much more and perhaps more urgent issues for the characters.

I decided to give the book another try when Amy mentioned it in her post about the best books she read in 2012. And I am happy I gave it another try. For while the book may not have been a perfect read for me, and I think it is flawed, it does pack a lot of complicated issues and overflows with compassion and feeling at certain points.

As I mentioned, Irises raises a lot of big questions, which I can hardly discuss here without spoiling the key moments of the book. It deals with ideas about life and death, about the value of art, about family and individuality, about priorities and different concepts of selfishness. It certainly packs a lot. Things I had not expected to find in there. A lot of reflection and understanding for the bigger and smaller issues girls aged 14-18 face, but mostly those that all of us might have to deal with, whatever age we are. This might be what I appreciated most in the book: its room for introspection, for the motivation of these two girls, for showing how what from the outside might easily be labeled one thing can be motivated by a lot of conflicting emotions for the individual in question. The beauty of it is that the raising of these issues never felt artificial, but they were instead incorporated into the story of these two individual girls and their daily life.

The book is told through alternating viewpoints. In one chapter you follow Mary, in another Kate. As such, you become acquainted with their own thoughts, motivations, and feelings. And while I might feel exasperated at the choices of Kate in one chapter, the following might contextualize it and make it more understandable. The drawback of this was that sometimes the storyline felt a little too slow for me, and I saw some of the key points coming from a long way off. I wonder if this was the audio? I do not know if it was the story itself or listening to it that made me feel just one step removed from the characters at most times. Even so, by the last third of the book, I was (and this came as a surprise to me) deeply involved in what was happening, and hardly dared listen to it on my morning and evening walk for fear I might have to hide a few stray tears on my face each time.

In the end, I am happy I gave Irises another try. It was not perfect, and I think the book might work better on paper than on audio, but mostly in the latter half of the book I came to appreciate it a lot for what it dares to discuss and for the sensitivity and compassion with which this is done.

I have read that Francisco X. Stork’s other novels might be better, so I am quite curious to give them a try. By a stroke of luck, I came across his Marcelo in the Real World the other day..

Other Opinions: Rhapsody in Books, Book Addiction, My Friend Amy, bookshelves of doom, Beth Fish Reads, Annette’s Book Spot, Little Library Muse, Yours?

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I have to admit that I found these two parts much more enjoyable than the parts we read for February and March. As Helen put it in a comment, “I was happy that there was more ‘peace’ than ‘war’ in April’s reading!” While I have accepted that war is an inevitable part of this novel (heh), I still struggle with how conditioned I am to “just look away” during battle scenes in movies, or skimming pages of battle scenes in books. I also find it very difficult to picture what is written about the battle scenes, I simply cannot imagine the layout of the field, however much effort is put into the description of it. While, when reading about houses or cities, I am more comfortable just imagining them even if in my imagination the door is on the other side of the room, etcetera. I wonder what this says about me as a reader?

I still have trouble keeping all the characters straight (I wonder if all of my posts about War and Peace are just going to repeat the same things over and over?) but I am having a little less trouble.

I think this section really showed us the flaws in some of the male characters. Pierre’s marriage is already over! Was he too quick to believe his wife was having an affair? What do you think? And what about that duel? I loved what Amy stated in her post:

Of course the idea of a duel is quite old fashioned and ridiculous and I thought it was amusing no one really thought they’d go through with it and they did and of course it wasn’t glorious–just like war, it was quick, stupid, and someone got hurt.

Such a smart observation! And I think very fitting. I will now be on the lookout for these small parallels.

Rostov. His loss of money. His treatment of Sonya’s love. These scenes were realistic, but quite painful for me to read! I am not sure if I like him very much. He seems quite self-centered at this point? I’d love to see some character growth for him during the upcoming 8 months of reading.

Prince Andrei’s storyline was interesting, though I am not sure what to think of him yet. There is some irony in the fact that he shows up when he was thought to be death, just as his wife is bringing new life into the world and then dies herself. I admit I am fascinated by how he seems to have turned away from war and battle, while his father who, if I remember correctly, was first reluctant about it is now passionately engaged with it? Will we see more of this? I’d like to have more exploration of the diverse reactions to war, the motivations to make certain choices, and the disillusionment.

I wonder about the women in this story though. That is, their characterisation. I feel they are a little.. flat? right now. They seem to be at the sidelines, waiting, getting hurt, mostly drifting along. I’d like one of them to stand up and act for herself (although I guess in a way Pierre’s wife has, but then – I wonder how sympathetically that was portrayed?). Mostly, I’d like Sonya to be treated better by Rostov?

And what about Pierre’s induction to freemasonry? I admit I was fascinated by the induction rituals, though also a bit uncomfortable. I know very little about freemasonry and I know that there are quite a few different interpretations of it in contemporary society, so I admit I kept wondering how realistic the portrayal of this induction was, or if it was Tolstoy’s imagination.. Nevertheless, it raises some interesting questions about faith and trying to introduce and convince others. There are parallels between Pierre’s introduction to these ideas by the traveller and then Pierre trying to convince Andrei, where the one succeeds and the other does not, and we are left to wonder why.. There is also the question whether the freemasons were really trying to help Pierre find a better course in life or whether it was about his money [there is very little attention to the fact that he pays them quite a lot, but it is there in the ceremony, and it does stand out sharply to the reader].

Anyway, parts three and four of Book II are up next for May.

Are you still reading along? Are you enjoying it? Who or what do you like best of all up to now? 

You can find the Mr. Linky to link to your own thoughts at Amy’s blog.

So, these are a sort of random selection, picked out knowing I had heard the name before, knowing other works by the author, or simply on a leap of faith. If you count these and find that there is one missing, then yes, the eighth book is not pictured as it is a book for my PhD research.

What do you think? Anything that was worth the three euro total I spent on them?

Me? In between doing both of these things I am thinking about the annual month dedicated to Dutch literature which I inaugurated two years ago. For a long while, I was not sure whether I should organise another dedicated month this year. Several issues came up that I won’t go into now. The key thing, however, is the fact that I simply do not have time to generate enough content, to read enough books, for a whole month. At the same time, after a year of growing recognition for some books written by Dutch authors, I did not want to forget about this event that helps me (and in a way forces me) to discover more of my own country’s literature, and simultaneously perhaps highlights some books that might be of interest to other international readers.

This is why I have decided to organise a Dutch Lit Fortnight this year.

Please feel very welcome to join me in reading one or more books of Dutch literature and writing about them on your blog or in the comment section of my posts, from the 17th of June until the 30th of June.

As in previous years I will be providing some suggested reading before the beginning of the month, and will also offer a giveaway or two.

If there is any interests, I am also contemplating a Read Along of either The Two Hearts of Kwasi Boachi by Arthur Japin or The Twin by Gerbrand Bakker.

If you cannot wait for my suggested this year, feel free to check the Dutch Lit Month tag on this blog, or the Dutch Literature in Translation Review Database, to which you are also invited to add URLs of your own reviews of Dutch literature in translation.

I hope you will contemplate joining me, as I´d love some company during these fourteen days!

I will have a birthday party this evening, so I will have a few hours break in between, and I’ll probably fall asleep sometime during the event, but yay for reading all the books (although probably I will not read that many). Below you’ll find my updates so I won’t flood your RSS reader. I’ve already noticed lots of blogging friends are participating too, hopefully we can cheer each other on. AND make some new friends.

Yay, Read-a-Thon!

Starting Line:

I have not actually settled on the book I’d like to start with, but I *can* show you a picture of the pile I might be selecting from today. Basically, from previous experience I know that I usually end up picking up completely different books than my initial pile of possibles. I’ll have to wait and see..

Hour four:

reading War and Peace

The fourth hour is almost over and I have managed to read a total of 121 pages. Not very impressive. On the other hand, those 121 pages were the two parts of War and Peace that were scheduled for April, so I’m quite proud of myself for finishing them. I also managed to prepare dinner and take a shower. Now I am off to eat and visit some blogs!

Pages read: 121
Hours read: 3
Hours commenting: sadly, 0
Other activities: 1

End of hour 6:

Selected next read: The Hours

I selected my next read and am now 98 pages into The Hours by Michael Cunningham. To be honest, I had read 4 of those pages before. This book is all kinds of beautiful thus far, and I’m hoping I won’t be too tired/distracted to finish it this read-a-thon.

Right now I am off to a birthday party. I think I will be back around midnight, which is the beginning of hour 11.

Pages read: 219
Hours read: 4.5
Hours commenting: 0.5
Other activities: 1

Hour 11:

I’m back! The birthday party was great and so was the cake! How have you all been doing? I am about to start reading again (we are nearing hour 12 and it is almost 1 am over here). I am a little woozy though so I wonder how long I’ll last before I need to take a nap).

End of hour 19:

Christopher and Columbus by Elizabeth von Arnim. And yes, I have a new ereader (more on that soon!)

Um, my “nap” turned into a regular 8 hour sleep. Before I slept I managed to read 60 more pages of The Hours and 7 pages of Christopher and Columbus. So yes, my read-a-thon is turning out a bit ridiculous. Oh well, 4 hours left. At the very least I’d like to finish The Hours.

Pages read: 286
Hours read: 6
Hours commenting: 1
Other activities: lots and lots

Hour 22:

The book I will try to make a dent in before the end of the readathon

I finished The Hours! Wow, that is one stunningly beautiful read. Now on to my last (and second, hehe) book: The Folk Keeper by Franny Billingsley.

Pages read: 385
Hours read: 7.5

The Finish Line:

Books I read from this read-a-thon

We come to the end of the read-a-thon. This was a strange one for me. I participated for 6 hours, then left for 4, then participated for two more, slept for 8, and came back for the last 4.

I managed to read April’s scheduled reading for the War and Peace Read Along, I read The Hours and The Folk Keeper.

I had been saving the very small amount of graphic novels I own for this occasion for months. And yet, I did not really reach for them. It might be that by having a full night’s sleep I was more content to settle for some books I had been procrastinating to read because of high expectations and/or intimidation. The only drawback to these long breaks is that I felt I missed part of the experience of what the read-a-thon is about. I would have loved to connect to more people and to have been there to cheer people on through the most difficult hours. But there is always next time, right?

Pages read: 448
Hours read: 9.5

How was your read-a-thon? 

Christine by Alice Cholmondeley
Girlebooks, originally published 1917
Buy: Amazon | Bookdepository *
Free download: Project Gutenberg, Girlebooks

Christine claims to be a collection of letters written by Christine Cholmondeley to her mother Alice during her stay in Germany in 1914, just before the war began. Christine stays in Berlin and its surroundings to train with renowned violin teacher Kloster, as she is a promising talent. Her letters portray her difficult entry into German society, provide a commentary on German people, and feature her personal dealings with a number of people including Kloster and her eventual love interest Bernd.

However, as the title of my post signals, these were not letters written by Christine to her mother, but instead a fictionalised account written by Elizabeth von Arnim, who made Christine and her mother up.

I love Elizabeth von Arnim, and I have had all of the public domain titles of her works loaded on my ereader for years, supplemented when new ones became available. I was a little puzzled by the fact that this was published under a pseudonym, but did not really look into it. A week ago, I selected it as my next bedtime read without knowing much of the particulars about it. Thinking that anything by Von Arnim was bound to be good, so why not this one? Well, there is a reason for that pseudonym. And it is not necessarily one that will convince readers of Von Arnim’s other books.

By page 30, I was a little puzzled: was this Elizabeth von Arnim? Then what exactly was her aim in publishing these letters as if they were written by someone else? What was she trying to achieve? The answer came through wikipedia: Christine is Von Arnim’s contribution to the British war effort, by writing a propaganda-like piece that was apparantly a minor part of an elaborate effort meant to sway the US opinion in favour of joining the war.

You need not read wikipedia to notice the othering that is going on in this story. (Of course, it might be that reading wikipedia sharpened my eye and made it stand out). While in Christine individuals from different classes of the German populations are highlighted, there is a general tendency to use these individuals as depictions of ”the state of mind” of the “German population” (as is mentioned in the preface, purportedly written by Alice Cholmondeley). There is an abundance of distinctions being drawn between Christine and her surroundings as she makes observations on how “they” (the Germans) think, act, and feel. The Germans are portrayed as children, conditioned to want greatness and bloodshed for their  by their government, barbaric and uncivilised to some extent denoted by their undemocratic system. At some moments, Christine seems to distinguish between the government as the perpetrators and the people as its victims, but the lines become blurred as she then continues to lament the blood lust that is rife among the people (according to her).

It is really difficult to explain what happens in the text exactly. I think some examples might explain it better. Mind you, these examples can be found on almost every few pages. I am picking some out at random.

Playing on British nationalism:

“Dear England. Dear, dear England. To find out how much one loves England all one has to do is to come to Germany.”

On the Germans:

“But you know, darling mother, it makes it easier for me to harden and look ahead with my chin in the air rather than over my shoulder back at you when I see, as I do see all day long, the extreme sentimentality of the Germans. It is very surprising. They’re the oddest mixture of what really is a brutal hardness, the kind of hardness that springs from real fundamental differences from ours in their attitude towards life, and a squashiness that leaves one with one’s mouth open. They can’t bear to let a single thing that has happened to them ever, however many years ago, drop away into oblivion and die decently in its own dust…”

An example of sympathy turned into othering:

“I could hardly not cry. These cheated people! Exploited and cheated, led carefully step by step from babyhood to a certain habit of mind necessary to their exploiters, with certain passions carefully developed and encouraged, certain ancient ideas, anachronisms every one of them, kept continually before their eyes,—why, if they did win in their murderous attack on nations who have done nothing to them, what are they going to get individually? Just wind; the empty wind of big words. They’ll be told, and they’ll read it in the newspapers, that now they’re great, the mightiest people in the world, the one best able to crush and grind other nations. But not a single happiness really will be added to the private life of a single citizen belonging to the vast class that pays the bill. For the rest of their lives this generation will be poorer and sadder, that’s all. Nobody will give them back the money they have sacrificed, or the ruined businesses, and nobody can give them back their dead sons. There’ll be troops of old miserable women everywhere, who were young and content before all the glory set in, and troops of dreary old men who once had children, and troops of cripples who used to look forward and hope. Yes, I too obeyed the Kaiser and went home and prayed; but what I prayed was that Germany should be beaten—so beaten, so punished for this tremendous crime, that she will be jerked by main force into line with modern life, dragged up to date, taught that the world is too grown up now to put up with the smashings and destructions of a greedy and brutal child. It is queer to think of the fear of God having to be kicked into anybody, but I believe with Prussians it’s the only way. They understand kicks. They respect brute strength exercised brutally. I can hear their roar of derision, if Christ were to come among them today with His gentle, “Little children, love one another.”

Read as propaganda, it is really rather a smart book: it takes an almost instantly sympathetic lead character, who is a promising child with what we are given to understand is a big talent, with no reason really to want to give her mother to understand falsehood about “the Germans”, and puts her into situations in which German people are less than sympathetic towards her, and then adds a final tragedy which the mother, in the preface, reveals so as to steer the sympathies of the reader. Moreover, besides the more blatant examples of othering, there are also more subtle ones. Christine, for example, wants and has to make her own way in life, earn her own keep, and in the story the women of Germany are mostly portrayed as servants or mothers. As such, she is instantly put apart from these women, but also examplifies (perhaps?) a broader respect for the abilities of women in Britain (which I think appears often as a trope of othering  as an “us” that is more emancipated than “they” are).

The question is whether this book is still interesting to read for the contemporary reader, and I cannot give a satisfactory answer to that.

It might be thought of as an interesting study into propaganda and social history, though I think the reader would benefit from contrasting this story with other materials and/or more biographical information and context to this story. It is certainly something I wished for (are there any good Elizabeth von Arnim biographies out there?).

There is also the rather puzzling sensation of reading some ideas about “the Germans” in a book about World War I that I mostly associate with World War II (but this might be my Dutch background given that the Netherlands were neutral during World War I and thus we learn mostly about the first war in the context of the second). There is a certain shock to seeing all these observations about a people being drilled to feel and think certain things, to want bloodshed for the greatness of their nation, and the rallying nature of massive get-together around the Kaiser.. Of course, these were Von Arnim’s ideas about the German, but it was interesting to me that apparently these ideas existed in 1917, while I associate it with the picture of Germany painted in the context of the interbellum and World War II.

However, these interesting things about the story did very little to make it an enjoyable read for me. As a fictional book, Christine mostly left me feeling apathetic. The othering got in the way of my enjoyment of the story. It is sad but true. I usually love Von Arnim’s style, gently humorous comfort reading with a sharp edge at times. Here, she is mostly a little too sentimental for my liking, and the sharp edge comes out much too stark on the side of prejudice, propaganda and nationalism. I admit that I was a little touched emotionally by the end of the book, and yet mostly I felt relieved that it was over, that I could put it behind me, and hopefully still read the other books by Elizabeth von Arnim that were not published under a pseudonym and without these ulterior motives, with joy.

To be fair: Christine can also be read in another light. As is noted over here, it might be interpreted as an hommage to Von Arnim’s fourth daughter who died in Germany in 1916. I can see parts of that reflected in the story, and I think that, put in this light, the story becomes a little more “humane” and might also explain some of what I deemed too sentimental above; for Christine is constantly expressing so much love when writing to her mother that I quickly felt it might be a little too much to be realistic. I cannot help but keep to the opinion that this book did not exactly work for me, that I cannot read around the opinions about the Germans as they were expressed, because for me they obscure what might have been a more interesting narrative otherwise.

[I want to add that I do not think I necessarily begrudge Von Arnim for writing propaganda (though part of me wishes she hadn’t). It is more a matter of not being able to enjoy this “othering” in the contemporary context as a reader turning to Elizabeth von Arnim for enjoyment and not for a study in propaganda. I hope this makes sense and that I did not offend anyone.]

Other Opinions: Random Jottings, Yours?

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** This post was crossposted to the Project Gutenberg Project.

The Twelve Tribes of Hattie – Ayana Mathis
Hutchinson, Random House, 2013
Review copy from Netgalley

The Twelve Tribes of Hattie is the story of Hattie Shepherd who moves from Georgia to Philadelphia as part of the Great Migration. Her story spans many decades, from the 1920s to the 1980s.

Aged 17, Hattie’s story begins with the death of her twin babies, Philadelphia and Jubilee. Hattie’s disappointments in life have just begun, but the death of her first children will cast a shadow over most of what happens afterwards. Her husband cheats and squanders their money which leaves her and the long row of children they have together in poverty. The rest of the story is told through the alternating viewpoints in which these children usually take the lead. Most of them face difficulties in live, and they often remember their strong, but mostly unloving mother, during these episodes. While most of the story actually is not told from Hattie’s point of view, and is usually removed from the direct domestic sphere of Hattie’s household, this novel consisting of 10 chapters all seemingly telling a different but intertwined story in the end all revolve around Hattie in some way or other.

However, The Twelve Tribes of Hattie is more than a story about one family and ultimately the lasting impact of one mother. It is packed with larger themes such as a returning reflection on the nature of the US south:

“He thought of the South as a single undifferentiated mass of states where the people talked too slow, like August, and left because of the whites, only to spend the rest of their lives being nostalgic for the most banal and backwoods things: paper shell pecans, sweet gum trees, gigantic peaches.”

And a commentary on religious belief. Religion recurs in the stories of Hattie’s children, but in the end also appears in the final pages as a metaphor, or perhaps as commentary, on her broader outlook on life, while also posing the question if Hattie’s individual life could be read as the lives of many women of the great immigration:

“She had been angry with her children, and with August, who’d brought her nothing but disappointment. Fate had plucked Hattie out of Georgia to birth eleven children and establish them in the North, but she was only a child herself, utterly inadequate to the task she’d been given. No one could tell her why things had turned out the way they had, not August or the pastor or God himself. Hattie believed in God’s might, but she didn’t believe in his interventions. At best, he was indifferent. God wasn’t any of her business, and she wasn’t any of his. In church on Sundays she looked around the sanctuary and wondered if anyone else felt the way she did, if anyone else was there because they believed in the ritual and the hymn singing and good preaching more than they believed in a responsive, sympathetic God.”

The thing is, perhaps I like the idea of The Twelve Tribes of Hattie better than its execution. The alternating viewpoints sometimes almost lead you to believe that you are reading ten different stories that are not altogether a coherent whole. The family tree becomes somewhat confusing sometimes. The fact that as a reader you only see episodes from each of these lives sometimes interferes with a deeper understanding of the characters – something I would have liked a little more of. And, as is often the case, some of the characters’ stories did more for me than others. I felt I persevered, and had to tell myself to do so, through parts of this book. And perhaps the only chapters that glued this book together, and “saved” it for me, were the rather touching beginning and ending.

There is some wonderful prose, some wonderful insight into what emotions, stress, and social circumstances will do to family life while also underlining love next to heartbreak.. And yet, The Twelve Tribes of Hattie failed to grab me, convince me, as such a heartbreaking story might be expected to do.

Other Opinions: BookLust, Boston Bibliophile,  Book Monkey, Reading on a Rainy Day,  Devourer of Books, nomadreader, A Bookish Way of Life, Lovely Trees Reads,  Amy’s Book Obsession, Sam Still Reading, Follow the Thread, Bibliophile by the Sea, Curled Up with a Good Book and a Cup of Tea.
Did I miss your post about this book? Let me know and I will add it to the list!

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Fables: Animal Farm – Bill Willingham / Mark Buckingham / Steve Leialoha
DC Comics, 2003
Buy: Amazon | Bookdepository *

Fables: Animal Farm is part of a series of comics about fairy tale characters who are living in exile from their homeland and have formed a secret community in New York. Animal Farm is volume two in the series. I posted about volume 1: Legends in Exile here.

In this second volume Snow White and Rose Red visit the Farm in the hopes that this time away might reconcile them. The Farm is the place where all the non-human fairy tale characters live, since they cannot mix with humans in the city. When Snow White and Rose Red arrive, they quickly find out that revolutionary thought has spread far and wide on the farm and they quickly become entangled in the uprising of the farm animals, led by the Three Little Pigs (among others, but these are surprises I do not want to spoil).

Like the first volume, Fables: Animal Farm was a joy to read. There is something about seeing familiar characters appear in a new setting, watching the story unfold, knowing you will probably be surprised when you turn the page, and discovering small literary references (an example being George Orwell’s Animal Farm). These comics are fun to read, and I can’t help doing so with a growing smile on my face despite the violence that makes an appearance.

I also think I liked the artwork better in this volume. When I mentioned in my post about Legends in Exile  that the muscular men /voluptuous women bothered me a little, many said that the artwork would continue to get better throughout the series. It might be that the enjoyment of discovering the twists and the surprise appearances of well-known fairy tale characters in different guises kept me from noticing, but it definitely bothered me less this time.

I think it is mostly the last few pages of Fables: Animal Farm that I will remember. The different progressing storylines for Rose and Snow (trying to avoid spoilers here!) and the way they were linked to the power of story and memory was both melancholy and beautifully thought out, I think.

There is something though that does not quite sit right with me. I recently looked up Fables on wikipedia and came across the statement by Willingham that he is fervently pro-Israel in the Palestine/Israeli conflict and that the story was meant as a metaphor for that conflict. Even though he notes that the series was not meant as a political tract, I could not shake the discomfort when I read lines about “the Homelands” and “the Adversary” after reading about the metaphor. I am not necessarily pro-Israel (although that does not automatically make me pro-Palestine, I just don’t know). I think it is a complicated conflict that probably deserves a more complicated metaphor than words that create such a stark duality as “Homelands” and “Adversary” (note the capitals used in the comic which, in my opinion, makes the contrast even starker). For me, it is not so much a question of who you are for or against, but more about the black and white, which, particularly when linked to real world politics, just seems to deserve a little more grey? I do not know how the rest of the series will play out, and I do not want to let the politics get in the way of how much I enjoy these comics, but I felt I could not avoid noting it down.

I read Fables: Animal Farm as part of Carl‘s Once Upon a Time VII challenge.

Other Opinions: Things Mean a Lot, Book Zombie, everyday reads, Beth Fish Reads, FyreFly’s Book Blog, Dogear Diary, Sophisticated Dorkiness, The Sleepless Reader, Whimpulsive,  Scuffed slippers and wormy books.., Experiments in Reading, Ela’s Book Blog, Bold. Blue. Adventure, Eclectic / Eccentric, Graeme’s Fantasy Book Review.
Did I miss your post about this book? Let me know and I will add it to the list.

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[I cannot think of a proper post title for these kinds of posts? My mind gets stuck on 'Linky Links' but I'm sure I have unconsciously stolen that from another blogger.]

• Claire at Word by Word reviews Elif Shafak’s Honour and manages to bump it to the top of my to-be-read list when it comes to the Orange Prize longlisted books (which, admittedly, I have not felt particularly inspired to start reading). What inspired me even more is perhaps her quote from Elif Shafak’s The Happiness of Blonde People in relation to the UK book cover. Certainly a topic that I appreciate being addressed.
  
• The Millions has a very smart review of movie Spring Breakers up on their website (thanks to Amy for pointing it out): ‘The Rapist Next Door: On Harmony Korine’s Spring Breakers‘. I recently saw the movie in the cinema and I think they untangle my conflicted feelings about the movie really well. Watching this movie might have been one of the most unsettling and uncomfortable experiences I have had in a while. After watching though, I was quite taken with a possible critical reading of the movie. But then I’m not sure exactly how much of that reading is an effort to justify my having watched this movie. If anyone else watched it, I’d love to discuss this more in-depth.
• Jenny is rereading Harry Potter and wrote a piece on of Sirius Black: ‘Defending Sirius, Part 2‘. I love Jenny’s passion, her voice as a blogger, her combination of combining personal opinion with smart observations. So yes, go read her post & then more of her blog.
• In the spirit of trying to embrace the change that comes with the years and that will eventually be reflected on the blog, Liburuak recently changed the focus of her blog from books to ‘Books, Bikes, and Food‘. I admire anyone who is brave enough to face change, knowing how difficult I often find it to deal with it.
• In a similar vein, Elizabeth Llhuede wrote a post ‘On not writing reviews‘ that I think might really resonate with lots of bloggers. To me, that post is not so much about the definition of the word review, but about embracing what you want to be as a blogger, and accepting that some books need a little time to ‘nest’ inside you before you write about them, if ever. And that that is okay.
• I really liked the idea of A Book Jar on Alex in Leeds’ blog. I don’t think I could find the time to do that, really, with the amounts of TBR books waiting for me. But it certainly succeeds in celebrating the unread, with colourful decoration!, instead of turning it into obligations.
• The Literary Omnivore posted about her Ideal Bookshelf. Reading her post, I had so many ideas on how this might make a great blogging feature. But before I think of my own variant I want to direct you to her wonderful post. I’m sure it will make you want to rearrange your shelves and compose your own list.
• Jodie recently posted a very in-depth and thoughtful analysis of Les Miserables, which made me wish I were as smart (repeatedly): ‘Victor Hugo didn’t even need this many words‘.

Before I sign off for today, I will leave you with one song from the new album by The Veils (possibly my favourite band ever). If you happen to want more (the album ‘Time Stays, We Go’ is really good, I promise) go look up some more songs. At the moment, I particularly recommend ‘The Pearl‘, ‘Sign of Your Love’, and ‘Through the Deep Dark Wood’.