Nevermore: Balkans, Bosnia, Obama, Sally Ride, Gorky Park, and More

Reported by Jeanne

Two books from previous meetings were brought up again but by new readers.  Audacity: How Barack Obama Defied His Critics and Created a Legacy That Will Prevail by Jonathan Chait was called “marvelous” by our member who said that Chait made a good case that Obama’s presidency will be viewed as a success by historians. 

The second book, Balkan Ghosts by Robert Kaplan was also praised by a new reader.  Kaplan divides the book by country, visiting Yugoslavia, Romania, Bulgaria, and Greece.  While there is some personal perspective—Kaplan worked there as a journalist in the 1980s—most of the book is devoted to the history and culture of the region, giving the origins of some of the modern conflicts whose roots extend back for centuries .  Although the book came out originally in 1993, our reader found it timely and informative.  

The Bosnia List by Kenan Trebincevic is a personal memoir of the Balkans.  At age eleven, Kenan’s life was suddenly turned upside down when the ethnic cleansing began.  His father and brother were sent to a concentration camp, former friends turned on them, and the family was forced to flee the country simply for being Muslim. Some twenty years later, he reluctantly returns toYugoslavia at the behest of his aging father who wants to see his homeland once again.  Kenan wants to reconnect with some people, but he also wants to confront those who turned against his family.  Our reader found it to be a difficult but ultimately hopeful book about the resilience of the human spirit.

Next up was Sally Ride by Lynn Sherr.  This biography of the first American woman astronaut was deemed quite good by our reader, but she wished that there had been a timeline included.  She also felt that the author didn’t do a good job of explaining Ride’s love of physics, but did show how Ride compartmentalized her life.  She kept much of her life private, even as she worked tirelessly to encourage opportunities for girls and women in science. 

A second biography concerned a lesser known individual but is a book our reviewer felt everyone should read.  The Short and Tragic Life of Robert Peace is the story of a brilliant young black man who went from living in a New Jersey ghetto to studying molecular biophysics and biochemistry at Yale.  His hardworking mother had struggled to secure a better life for her son, enrolling him in private school while his drug-dealer father was incarcerated for murder. Robert was a top student who worked in the dining hall but who supplemented his income by dealing drugs which led to his untimely death at age 30.  The book was written by Jeff Hobbs, Peace’s college roommate who sought to reconcile the two worlds that his friend inhabited. Our reader felt this was a powerful book and deserving of the many awards it earned.

Two novels were up next, championed by different readers.  The first was a new title, A Piece of the World by Christina Baker Kline, author of the best-selling Orphan Train.  Kline imagines the life of Christina Olson, a handicapped woman who inspired Andrew Wyeth’s painting Christine’s World. Olson suffered from a genetic disease which made mobility difficult. Although she often had to crawl, she was able to run the family farm. The story begins in the 1940s, when Olson views the painting, then moves back and forth in time to tell her story.  The book is emotionally moving and evocative, causing our reader to recommended it highly.

1981’s Gorky Park by Martin Cruz Smith is set in Moscow during the Soviet era, when detective Arkady Renko finds several corpses in Gorky Park.  The bodies have been disfigured to make identification difficult, but Renko is determined to see justice done. Our reader said it wasn’t profound but it was quite the page turner.

Mechanica by Betsy Cornwell

 Reviewed by Ambrea

Nicolette is an inventor.  As daughter to one of the finest automaton creators in the empire, she has learned much about engineering and mechanical repair.  She’s primed to follow in her mother’s footsteps; however, when her mother succumbs to a terrifying disease and her father remarries only months later, Nicolette finds her world turned upside-down.  With her father gone, she finds herself abandoned and alone, caught on the receiving end of her stepmother’s frigid personality and her stepsisters’ vindictive ire.

Forced to become a servant in her own home, Nicolette has spent years under her stepmother’s thumb.  But on her sixteenth birthday, she discovers her mother’s hidden workshop deep in the cellar and she begins to dream that she could create a life for herself—away from the dreaded Steps (her dreaded stepfamily), away from the hardship and grime of her current existence.  As she prowls through her mother’s workshop, she discovers books and tools she could only dream of possessing and a strange, mechanical menagerie of miniature creatures, like Jules, a tiny metal horse.  With a grand technological exposition looming on the horizon, Nicolette knows she finally has a chance to escape and find the happily-ever-after about which she’s always dreamed.

I ended up reading Mechanica by Betsy Cornwell in one sitting.  For some reason I can’t fathom, I couldn’t seem to put it down.  It was a novel story that managed to combine magic and Faerie kingdoms with science-fiction and steampunk fantasy, while simultaneously tying together threads of fairy tale narratives—namely, Cinderella—and complex political and/or social conditions.  It was a fascinating story that appealed to me for the same reasons Cinder by Marissa Meyer appealed to me; in fact, it was easy to see the parallels between them.

Mechanica has man of the same characteristics as Cinder:  a downtrodden heroine, a mechanical best friend, a delicate political and social balance between disparate groups (between the human race and the Lunars in Cinder; between mankind of Esting and the magical citizenry of Faerie in Mechanica), an endearing human friend, a handsome prince who conceals his identity to mingle with the rest of the population, a mysterious disease.  It has more than a few similarities; it’s actually quite startling.  I can see why some readers have managed to toss it aside so easily.

However, Mechanica has its own unique, Cinderella-esque story.  Like Cinder, Nicolette is a strong and intelligent heroine.  She’s a builder, an inventor.  She doesn’t just repair automatons or her mother’s inventions, she makes them using her own ingenuity…and a little magic.  They share many of the same qualities, but, at its core, Cinder is a science-fiction novel.  Mechanica, on the other hand, is filled with fairy tales, tinged with elements of fantasy.

Now that I’ve gotten those comparisons out of the way, I’d like to point out that Mechanica has its own unique story.  As the book jacket promises, it’s a “richly imagined…retelling” of Cinderella.  I found I liked reading Nicolette’s narrative, not only for the inventiveness of her elaborate, steam-fueled world of cogs and glass and metal, but for the depth of her personality.

Nicolette is incredibly introspective and thoughtful.  She’s a dreamer, an inventor, and she seems to have this intricate world that stretches out in her mind, like a map, as she imagines new inventions, sketches out blue prints, designs pieces and parts, frets over her plans—for she does eventually have plans when she unearths her mother’s workshop—and wonders at her new friends.  At the same time, she’s recognizes her own faults and accepts her mistakes.

She knows she will make mistakes, she understands her own failings, because she knows no one is perfect.

For instance, after Nicolette meets Fin and Caro, she finds herself slowly falling for Fin, the first boy who has shown an interest in her work and, more to the point, has afforded her even the smallest bit of courtesy.  She realizes it’s silly to daydream about a boy she barely knows, but she does, because she likes to believe in fairy tales and romance, just as, let’s face it, we all do from time to time:

“I held whole conversations with him in my mind, telling him about the Steps’ inanity, or their coldness, or the transparent fawning of whatever beaux they had entertained that day.  I told him about my work as I made it, explaining the movements and turnings…the delicate clockwork that went into replicating Mother’s mechanical insects.  I spoke more with my imagined Fin than I did with the real Caro in our letters.  […]  Every once in a while, I would remember that I could count my actual interactions with him on one of my hands…”

Besides which, I absolutely loved that Nicolette was so self-sufficient.  Not only does she find a way to sell her beautiful baubles and her incredible inventions, she uses her money to go to the grand “Royal Exposition of Art and Science.”  The ball at the beginning of the event is not her goal; no, her true goal is to go the Expo and show off her inventions, gain a patron, and open a shop of her own and leave the horrible Steps behind.  She doesn’t have designs on the prince; in fact, she doesn’t want the prince.  She wants to create a life for herself, out of the shadow of her so-called family.

Her happily-ever-after doesn’t involve a crown; it involves a socket wrench and a mechanical horse named Jules.  Who needs the heir apparent when you have a strong pair of hands, a sound mind, and a noble steed to take you places?

Altogether, I enjoyed Mechanica and, just because it does resemble Cinder in many respects, I don’t think it’s a novel to easily dismiss.  While I felt a little ambivalent to the conclusion of Mechanica (I would have liked for a little more closure), it has a strong heroine, a good message, and, I think, an interesting story to tell that’s rich with detail and magic.  It’s a good start to a new series, and I’ll be looking for more from Betsy Cornwell.

Rook by Sharon Cameron

Reviewed by Ambrea

The Sunken City—formerly Paris, the grand City of Lights—is a place of danger, desperation, and despotism.  Ruled by the corrupt Premier Allemande and the bloodthirst LeBlanc, the Sunken City is brimming with discontent and revolution—and, at the heart of it all, is the mysterious Red Rook who spirits people from their cells and wreaks havoc against the Premier’s puppet government.

Not far from the heart of France, across the sea in the Commonwealth, Sophia Bellamy celebrates her arranged marriage to the wealth René Hasard—celebrate is too strong a word, however, for the girl making every last attempt to save her family from financial and political ruin.  She’s bound and determined to keep her family safe, to make a difference, even if it means sacrificing herself—even if it means facing enemies she never hoped to see on Commonwealth soil.

I absolutely loved Rook.  I found it in the library purely by accident, sitting atop a display of random young adult novels in the teen section, and I immediately connected with the cover.  I recognized the image of Paris on the jacket, replete with a skeleton of the Eiffel Tower rising in the distance.  It looked familiar and yet, at the same time, it was completely and utterly foreign…and, well, I just couldn’t help myself.

I was immediately intrigued by the Red Rook.  Sophia lives an intriguing double life as both the daughter of an impoverished aristocrat and a revolutionary in a crumbling France.  (Don’t worry, I’m not ruining anything for readers by mentioning Sophia’s alter ego, as her identity is hinted at on the book jacket and confirmed within the first couple of pages.)  She’s a clever, capable heroine, who manages to save lives and, ultimately, lead a revolution.

Personally, I liked her.  But, then again, I have an affinity for such impressive heroines.

And, while I was a little suspicious of René at first, I eventually grew to like him.  He and Sophia work well together.  They both have (possibly deadly) secrets; they have unusual skills that help them fit quite nicely into their line of work; and they make a living thwarting the government.  I liked seeing their relationship develop, and I liked seeing how Sophia reacted to someone who had many of the same skills and talents as she.  He was the perfect foil for her character and, more to the point, he encouraged her abilities more than most men would.  (A man after my own heart.)

Granted, I wasn’t a fan of the love triangle—René and Sophia harbored a mutual affection, while Spear and Sophia have a long history.  Although Sophia views Spear as more of a brother, their relationship is, nevertheless, complicated—but it wasn’t as bad as say, Twilight.  Or Vampire Diaries.  Or Something Strange and Deadly.  Or any number of other young adult fanasty/sci-fi romance.

And, admittedly, I disliked the pace of Rook.  For the most part, I enjoyed Cameron’s novel.  I liked the intermingling of tense, suspenseful story-writing with undertones of political intrigue and romance, and I liked how the story would flip between characters and give me insight into what’s happening at any given moment.  I liked the semi-omniscient quality of the story.

However, I hated how it seemed to slow toward the end of the novel.  I think Rook became bogged down by too many twists and turns, by too much build up.  It would have fared better if it had trimmed out a little of the fluff—like the budding romance between Sophia and René that takes literal weeks, or dwelling on LeBlanc’s myriad political aspirations, or the various preparations the group makes to depart for the Sunken City—and focused more on the core of the story.

I realize it had to lay out the plot, but it seemed to take just a little too long to fit the pieces together.  Personally, I would have liked a little more detail about what happened to Paris and society as a whole.  I know about the Great Death, which apparently was a near-extinction level event that practically wiped out the human race, and I vaguely understood that the so-called “Ancients” were essentially us in the modern world; however, I didn’t quite understand what happened between the Great Death and the present day of Sophia’s dystopian world.

One character even postulates some theories, such as a reversal of the magnetic poles of a weakening of the atmosphere, which could have led to the chance in climate and the gradual decline of humanity, but I don’t have much detail.  I mean, what happened to Paris that it became the Sunken City?  How and why did the Commonwealth build itself into some semblance of Regency-era England?  What happened that technology was completely and utterly wiped out—and why was it so distrusted?

I would have liked a little more detail, and I was a little disappointed when I didn’t find it.

But, overall, I really liked Rook.  It reminded me of Cinder and the rest of the Lunar Chronicles by Marissa Meyer.  While it does fall under the rather broad label of dystopian YA fantasy (think Hunger Games, Divergent, The Maze Runner, Life as We Knew It or, even, The Giver), I really enjoyed Cameron’s novel.  It felt original.  I also enjoyed the characters, the unexpected twists and turns, the ambiguous references to the past, the complicated political and social climates of the Commonwealth and the Sunken City.  It’s quickly become one of my guilty pleasures.