I couldn’t stand Three Cups of Tea, and apparently, I’m the only person in the blogosphere who feels this way.

Now, let’s not get the wrong idea. I think the story is terrific; it’s everything that a good story is supposed to be: interesting, insightful, and inspiring. I laughed. I cried. I learned a lot more about the plight of children living on the border of Pakistan and Afghanistan than I had ever hoped.

That is, when I could read it without yawning.

For such a wonderful narrative, Relin does a great job of boring his readers to death. Three Cups of Tea has so much potential, yet the prose is so mundane that I found myself rereading the same page over and over without realizing it, wondering why my mind kept trailing in multiple directions, none of which had anything to do with building schools in Central Asia.

The book feels like it is 2000 pages when it is barely over 200, and even that is too long. Everything that Relin says about Mortenson’s journeys can be condensed into a lovely 10-page essay in The New Yorker.

Did anyone else find themselves snoring in the middle of this book? Or, were you riveted the entire way through? I’d love to hear your thoughts on Three Cups of Tea.

I was astonished by the disparity of opinion among those who reviewed Claire Messud’s latest work. The New York Times named The Emperor’s Children a notable book, and Slate’s book critic Katie Roiphe was charmed, calling it “that mythical hybrid that publishers dream of one day finding in the piles of manuscripts on their desks.”

However, the masses (and by “masses,” I mean those of us who find an unspeakable amount of pleasure in reviewing literature with fellow book geeks on Goodreads and Amazon) find themselves deeply disappointed. The general consensus is that the characters are unrealistic caricatures of spoiled New York intellectuals, the book is long and drawn-out, and the prose is grandiose.

I cannot say that I entirely disagree.

And yet, I loved the book, if only because the characters remind me of my former high school and college classmates. I also love a writer who can eloquently delineate the strife of  frivolous Manhattanites who are struggling to uncover the meaning of life… by analyzing the history of children’s clothing.

I think that the Times has it right. Messud is certainly a prolific novelist of “unnerving talent.” Her lyrical prose, engaging sense of humor, and astute approach to the post-9/11 novel is spectacular, assuming that one interprets it as social satire. If The Emperor’s Children is taken seriously, it is nothing more than a version of Bravo’s NYC Prep for upper-echalon 30-somethings. But every sentence in this novel is laced with irony, and no one in our generation can craft a comedy of errors quite like Claire Messud.

Why do these books relate to Mad Men? They all encompass many of the following elements, such as the existential nature of life, the lure of the big city, advertising agency culture, life in the early 60s, marriage and its discontents, affluent communities, the rise of modern psychiatry and the meaning of sanity. All of these novels, like the show, are brilliantly written with humor, beautiful prose, sheer drama, and fascinating characters. 

Bright Lights, Big City by Jay McInerney 

The Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath

Everything by Nikolai Gogol

Revolutionary Road by Richard Yates 

John Updike’s Rabbit Series

The Great Gatsby  by F. Scott Fitzgerald

Death of a Salesman by Arthur Miller 

Mrs. Dalloway by Virginia Woolf (and also The Hours by Michael Cunningham)

The Blind Assassin by Margaret Atwood

Are there any other books that you can think of? What about shows and/or movies that fit this same tone?

As August approaches, I am looking forward to my next seasonally-appropriate novel. Here are some books that I am currently coveting: 

What Happened to Anna K by Irina Reyn

A Far Cry from Kensington by Muriel Spark

Love the One You’re With by Emily Giffin

I’m So Happy for You by Lucinda Rosenfeld

The School of Essential Ingredients by Erica Bauermeister 

We’ll see if any of these actually get read or if something else happens to catch my fancy as I’m browsing the shelves of the local Barnes and Noble.

What about you? Any suggestions for excellent summer reading? What should I read in the upcoming month(s)?

My courtship with your novels may be over. It’s not you, it’s me. For real.

I love your books, and I especially love your novel Triangle. I think it’s borderline genius, and if I finish it, I’ll write you a raving review.

But I am struggling to read it, and I am only half-way through the massive hardcover copy.

You see, reading about the Triangle Shirtwaist Factory Fire in such intense detail sends shivers down my spine. Particularly since it brings back memories from 9/11 (the way in which your novel inadvertently draws forth those parallels is haunting). Reading about the difficult life of your heroine, Esther, elicits admiration and quite often, despair. Reading about the modern-day couple, Rebecca and George, and their modern-day struggles feels melancholy to me, and often tragic.

I am invested in the characters, the narration, the story, and the history. It pains me to continue reading and it pains me to stop. I am going to continue the book for the time being, but I may have to close it before the tale concludes. If I do, it is not because of your work, but because I am a coward when it comes to books like yours.

Sincerely,

Rachel

…Anyone ever read a terrific book that they had to set aside because of the heavy emotional content?

His brother Malachy revealed information on the author’s deteriorating condition this morning.

McCourt’s work was virtually unknown to the world until his 60s, when he published his 1997 Pulitzer Prize winner Angela’s Ashes, followed by Tis‘ and Teacher Man. All of his memoirs depict a life of hardship and perseverance, and his work is been an inspiration to writers everywhere. 

My thoughts are with McCourt and his family.

After the publication of her first novel, Prep, Sittenfeld was compared to J.D. Salinger for her depiction of a neurotic, passive, yet totally relatable teenager from Indiana who comes of age in a New England boarding school. The Man of My Dreams follows a similar formula, minus the boarding school. The novel’s protagonist Hannah Gavenor is like Holden Caulfield, but with large breasts and an affinity for celebrity gossip. 

No one knows the angst-ridden adolescent brain like Curtis Sittenfeld. Reading her books makes me want to listen to the Jonas Brothers while reading Twilight. Okay, perhaps I can do without the Jonas Brothers. 

I am looking forward to American Wife, which will hopefully prove itself to be a good summer read.

Now, the description above makes the novel sound dull, which it isn’t in the least. The aforementioned cheerleading captain eventually turns into a Shroom-loving flower child, who then becomes an Evangelical Christian talk-radio host and conservative politician’s wife. Landvik’s depictions of these radio conversations is absolutely hilarious, just like the rest of the novel. Rarely does a novelist possess such a potent, yet tasteful, sense of humor. 

Although there are times when the novel seems to run dry and the characters go flat, overall, The View from Mount Joy was a fun and intelligent read, and I look forward to more of Landvik’s books.

Either I am a masochist, or Lisa Jewell is on to something in her first novel, Ralph’s Party. 

What she is on to is the fact that she is a fantastic storyteller. Jewell is a page-turner, and her depictions of narcissistic young singles in the city make her the ultimate predecessor to Helen Fielding. Yet, she lacks Fielding’s charm and neuroticism. Instead, we have characters who read each others diaries (what sort of self-respecting woman in her thirties, besides Bridget Jones, keeps a diary?), commit adultery and then cry about it over national radio, “save themselves” for the hot chick who lives upstairs, and wander around the city of London aimlessly, while contemplating the notion of fate, dreams, and soulmates?  

It was a novel that was so bad, that it was good. I despised all of the characters, yet was interested in how their conflicts, if you could call them that, would work out. 

I may read more of Jewell’s books, next time I need to shut my brain off for a couple of hours and read dialogue with the word “bloke” thrown in every other paragraph.  

Of course, that is an incredibly simplistic summary about a novel about the nature of friendship, storytelling, and perception. Historical fiction has rarely been so universal. 

I am looking forward to reading more of See’s work.