Tag Archives: books

Book #3: The Paris Wife by Paula McLain

Posted in Life Ramblings, Reviews, Writing by

It’s only 5 a.m., and already this Monday is a bit disappointing. We were supposed to wake up to more snow and treacherous roads. Now, I’m aware that my grown up job has never closed for bad weather – which is ludicrous, we live in the arctic and are prone to blizzards – but I had decided if it was really bad I was simply going to report I couldn’t get out of my neighborhood.

It wouldn’t have been a lie. I (me, myself) couldn’t (as in, do not have the ability because of my irrational fear of driving in icy conditions) get out of (my tiny old car could get stuck in anything) my neighborhood (prone to not being plowed).

But the streets are clear. There are people zooming past below me as we speak. They aren’t even driving a little slower, to give me hope the roads are slippery. The schools won’t be canceled after all. And my teeny tiny weekend that barely got started is officially over.

So, Monday, here we go…

Book #3: The Paris Wife by Paula McLain

The Paris Wife

Barnes And Noble

My biggest complaint about this book is that it didn’t last longer – I was sad to see the characters go. In just the few nights we had together, I got attached.

I’ll admit I’ve always had a soft spot for the 1920s. I was convinced I should have been living in the days of Gatsby since the first time I picked up Fitzgerald – who, it just so happens, is an important character in this  book.

And, on top of my love for the 20s, I’m even more devotedly in love with Paris.

The 20s + Paris = I was convinced just a few chapters in I should have married Hemingway myself

Paula McLain took on something here that could easily have backfired – learning everything she could about Hemingway, and then writing a fictional story from his wife’s point of view with all the right facts in place. It reads like an honest, heart-felt autobiography, even thought it isn’t. Hadley is endearing and lovable, even in the moments you want to sit her down and tell her what to do.

But amazing story aside, the thing that really stuck with me about this book was the way she wrote about Hemingway writing. It’s what has kept me from writing about a book I finished weeks ago. Because part of me knows this isn’t really Hadley talking – the author could have gotten it all wrong. But that’s really just me making excuses.

Hemingway didn’t just write in flashes of brilliance – he slaved over his work. Day in and day out he almost drove himself mad, sitting in a rented room and writing from dawn until dusk. Words didn’t just flow, he did battle with them. And when they did flow, he went back to them and whittled away at them until they were perfect. That isn’t how I picture great writing.

Back, around the time I dropped my creative writing major in college, a professor wrote me a letter at the end of the semester. She told me that I was the best writer in her class, but I was never going to be great unless I committed to my work. She knew I wrote in quick moments if inspiration. She said that in my mind, when my work was brilliant, I was brilliant. And when my work was bad, it meant nothing because I didn’t put any real effort in anyway. She told me then, that wasn’t how great writers wrote. 

At the time I thought I understood her, but I didn’t. I tried to prove her wrong by putting the time in, teaching myself to write novels. But I never really learned the lesson. I’ve never slaved over every word. I’ve never been conscious of refining every sentence. I’ve never rewritten an entire novel because the tone wasn’t quite right.

This book brought the book I was writing to a screeching halt. I haven’t been able to add a word to it. But my mind keeps going back to another story, one that’s hidden away on a corner of my computer. One that I love, but has never been quite right. I’ve revised it, and revised it again. But I’ve never slaved over it, not like Hemingway did to get the perfect balance of detail and simplicity. I’ve never perfected it.

So I picked it up – thinking this flash of inspiration was going to make it easy to see what I didn’t see before. But the truth was, once I finished rereading it I felt defeated. It isn’t a quick fix. There are moment I love, and things that need to be rebuilt from the ground up. And after all of the time I’ve put in, I’m not sure I want to put in anymore.

But now I can’t write anything else.

Read The Books I Already Own? Mind Boggling!

Posted in Life Ramblings by

I have a book buying problem.  I could wander in a book store for hours.  I usually come out with a small stack.

Don’t tell me about Nooks and Kindles and all of that – I can’t do it.  I’ve tried.  I want my books in paper, and I want to buy them in person.  Someday, my books will fill the shelves of my “Beauty and the Beast” library… The one I’ve wanted since I was a little girl.  My husband had fair warning one of these was required in our future dream home.  It will hold all of the books I’ve fallen in love with, or tortured my way through to be well rounded, or used as an easy escape from reality.

So it made sense to start the weekend with a trip to my favorite book store, cup of coffee in hand, to search for a companion for my long weekend.  But strangely, nothing was doing it.  Nothing was jumping off the shelf.

Suddenly, a crazy idea hit me.  What if I read one of the many books I already had at home?

Now I realize, this sounds ridiculous.  Why was I even at the bookstore if I had books to read at home?

Because I have a book buying problem.  I buy three, read two, get distracted by a new one, and that one lone book unread gets lost in the oblivion of my bookshelves, waiting for the day it seems interesting again.  And then there are the classics – many of which were bought in sets or in moments of determination, and they aren’t a quick easy read, so after I finish one I again get distracted.  Or, take the Steve Jobs biography I asked for at Christmas, and which went on the shelf because at the time I needed an airplane book and that was simply too big and heavy.  It hasn’t come down yet.

So, I’ve created a new challenge for myself.  Read all of the books I own, but haven’t read.  Originally I said the end of summer, but realistically when my bar studying picks up, I know my time will be limited.  And I have A LOT of unread books.  So instead, maybe by the time the first snowflakes fall.  That seems like a more realistic mission.

I thought about saying I wouldn’t buy a new one until I was done… but that too, seems impossible.  I know one of my favorite authors has a new release coming shortly.  I know that there will be fad books I just have to read to see what the buzz is about.  But if I limit myself to only being allowed to buy a new books for every old one I’ve read, I just might get through them all.

What is this actually going to do for me?  Well, probably cut back on my spending significantly over this summer where we’re studying and not getting paid for anything.  But that’s not what’s really important to me.

I think the reason the idea has stuck with me is because one of my resolutions for post law school is to do the things I’ve always wanted to do.  At some point, I’ve wanted to read all of these… but I haven’t.  I’m also trying to look for new sources of inspiration, and admittedly, I am a creature of comfort.  When I feel lackluster, I reach for an old favorite to get lost in, rather than new words to inspire me. That’s probably how I’ve read Emma and Pride and Prejudice more times than I can count, but until last night I hadn’t opened Mansfield Park.  I call Jane Austen my favorite, and I haven’t even read all of her books? What kind of half hearted literary snob am I?

I don’t know exactly how many I have in front of me… I thought about going through the shelves and collecting them all but that seemed like a mess waiting to be abandoned and climbed over all week.  But from here I can count more than ten, and that’s only with two shelves in view.  I’ll keep you posted on my progress.

Sometimes You Need To Trust Your Instincts

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I walked into Barnes and Noble this afternoon, and went right up to the counter.  ”I need to return these,” I said, putting the second and third books in the Hunger Games series on the counter.  

“Let me guess, you already have them?” The lady behind the counter asked, laughing to herself as she scanned the receipt.  

“No. I just finished the first one and I didn’t like it.”

The look that followed was a mix of shock and horror, as if i was part alien, part evil villain.  ”I’m sorry you… didn’t like it…” she said in this odd voice.  She refused to make eye contact with me. The other person behind the count actually gawked, open mouthed and everything. 

I understand that this may be an unpopular view, but I cannot possibly be the first person to finish that book and think “Really?  This is what everyone’s so crazed about?”

It wasn’t horrible.  But I was disappointed. 

I like a heroin I can get behind.  Someone I can feel for, if not relate to, and who I’m sad to see go when I get to the last page.  Katniss totally missed the mark for me. I was incredibly ready to be done with her.  I liked her for a little in the very beginning… I have a little sister, and I appreciated what she was willing to sacrifice for hers.  But that was about it for us.  I was waiting for her redeeming moment.  I felt like I never got it.  

And there were places in this book where I knew I should feel something more.  One in particular (though I won’t ruin it for any hold outs who might still give in) left me feeling like I should have cried, but the writing never pulled me in enough to get me there.  And I cry at sappy commercials.  I’m really not a hard one to crack. 

Apparently, this was one of those times when I should have followed my instincts.  I was hoping I’d be pleasantly surprised… But sometimes my inclinations are right.  This one just wasn’t for me.