When you have a child, there’s a certain perspective shift that takes place. Before William, my viewpoints on issues were based on short-term thinking. If our economy was slowing down, I thought it best to do everything we could to turn it around. If gas prices were rising, I figured we...

Eleven years ago, we were attacked on our home soil. Eleven years ago, thousands of innocent Americans lost their lives. Eleven years ago, as the world changed, we as Americans were all united in our shared horror and grief at the tragedy that had struck us. That was eleven years ago, and as...

I read this book when I was awake late at night with our newborn son, so my ability to focus and follow any existing themes was definitely hindered!

That being said, I really enjoyed the way that the book is laid out: Each chapter is dedicated to a different Jane Austen novel and a character from the novel’s book club.  So, for example, one chapter focuses on Austen’s Mansfield Park and the character Grigg, the only man in the book club.  I’ve read most of the Austen novels discussed in this book, but it’s been a while, and I don’t remember them all that well.  Regardless, I was still able to appreciate the author, Karen Joy Fowler’s, references to each book.  Her portrayal of each character is interesting and very developed.  The descriptions go back into each character’s childhood and move forward, revealing why a particular character is paired with each Austen novel.  The interplay between the characters is natural and realistic, so that you feel as though you’re reading about real people’s lives.

I would recommend this as a light, humorous read with a few heavier topics.

Fifteen or more traffic signs line the western side of Mission Boulevard, a low-traffic road that leads to our local hospital. Matt and I have been walking down this street every few days, as it’s flat (i.e., easy for third-trimester pregnant me to handle) and surrounded by beautiful, open...

I expected not to enjoy this book, thinking that it would be something much darker and less positive than it actually is. From the first page, however, I was, almost against my will, pulled in, and I couldn’t put the book down again until finishing today.

First, Edwards is a very gifted writer. Her style is smooth and feels unconsciously graceful. Writers of some modern literature seem to try very hard to put sentences and paragraphs together in a way that is both artistic and clear – it bothers me when I can almost feel the writer struggling to produce something poetic. Edwards’ words and the ensuing images they convey are beautifully natural.

(SPOILERS AHEAD:)
Second, the story of The Memory Keeper’s Daughter is well developed. David, a physician, delivers his twin son and daughter, the latter who has Down’s syndrome. To save his wife from the “tragedy” of having a disabled daughter who he believes will likely die young (as was more often the case for people with Down's syndrome during that time), David chooses to give their daughter to an institution while his wife is still passed out after her labor. When she wakes, he tells his wife that their daughter was stillborn, in itself a tragedy from which his wife spends years trying to recover.

The rest of the book unwinds over a span of about 25 years. It reveals the unforeseen damage that David committed to himself and his family when he attempted to spare them the difficulties of having a disabled daughter. Edwards has created characters who are richly layered – their motives and feelings are not always clear, but can often be traced, albeit circuitously, back to the night when David made his impetuous decision.

To me, this was a bit of a morality tale (without being pedantic) about our human hubris to assume that we can pick and choose the elements that compose our lives, thereby creating an aesthetic world that we control, and that matches up to the dreams we all have for ourselves. David, by simply removing the unexpected element of a disabled daughter from his and his wife’s lives, thought that he’d be setting his life’s course back on the right track. Yet the lie he tells to his wife creates an insurmountable wall that distances them from one another, and his lifelong guilt sends him inward, away from his son and wife.

With such ideas as these, it is easy to imagine how The Memory Keeper’s Daughter could have turned into a depressing portrait of the way that one man destroyed his wife, son, daughter, and himself. However, Edwards managed to make this into a well-wrought story about the ways that people struggle, sometimes ineffectually, to fix the mistakes they’ve made over the years, so filled with hope that their lives, and the lives of those they love, can still be mended. I think it is this concept of hopefully moving forward, futilely attempting to create a semblance of order in the world through different elements of art (photography for David, music for his son), that lends the book and its characters the grace and humanity that makes the reader forgive them, and also hope for their eventual freedom from the various deceptions by which they’ve bound themselves.

There are other key themes throughout this book: The development of feminism in Norah, David’s wife, who grows from being a mildly oppressed housewife into a woman who begins to realize that she wants much more from her life; the struggles for parents of the mentally disabled to create a viable lifestyle for their children through educational and employment reforms; and finally, the possibility for second chances.

**Added Note re: the Title: I just read several of the well-liked reviews for this book on Goodreads. Quite a few people were bothered by the title of "Memory Keeper" being applied to David. When reading, I thought there might actually be two people to whom this title could refer: David (because Norah gives him a "Memory Keeper" brand camera), but perhaps more aptly, Caroline. Through her actions, Caroline demonstrates that she is more Phoebe's mother than David is Phoebe's father. Further, throughout the majority of the book, Caroline is the "memory keeper," the one who chooses to "keep" hidden the horrible actuality of what David did on the night of his children's births. For various reasons, she does not reveal her memories to anyone. I guess the question is, why would Edwards choose to refer to Caroline in the title of this book? I think she may have titled this for Caroline because the nurse took a dark and destructive situation and turned it into one that brought much joy into her life, and the life of Phoebe. Caroline is the true hero of the book – unlike David, who runs from the responsibility that life puts in his path, Caroline picks that responsibility up, and finds ways to grow and prosper from it. For this reason, I truly think that Caroline deserves to have this book named after herself, and to have Phoebe referred to as her “daughter.” On first glance, this book’s title and plot focus on David, the other “memory keeper.” On second glance, I think we’re shown that the real story is about Caroline and Phoebe, as Caroline is the one who, in the end, chooses to divulge her memory of the night 25 years earlier to Norah. Caroline is the one who finally brings everything full circle, and gives Norah and Paul the opportunity to heal.

Blessed Are the Cheesemakers is a fun, cozy read. It’s very easy to get into, and has many likeable characters.

Set primarily in Ireland, the story has elements of magical realism, such as an old cheesemaker with the ability to see into the future, and cheeses with magical attributes.

I really enjoyed the narrator’s voice. You can almost hear a warm smile in her words as she unfolds the story. Although this book addresses some heavy issues (such as alcoholism, adultery and even death), there is a sweet optimism apparent in the narrator’s descriptions that helps make this a truly enjoyable read.

One of the reviews on the front of my copy notes that this is a “tender love story...in the spirit of Chocolat.” Yes, there is a wonderful love story that unfolds during the course of this novel, but I feel that this book was much more enjoyable than Chocolat, whose characters I didn’t find nearly as dear or appealing as those in Blessed Are the Cheesemakers.

Very fast-paced and interesting look at the development of a Utopian society on the outskirts of a third-world country. Garland did a great job of creating believable characters and dialogue. I really enjoyed how he showed that the people who found a society are much more dedicated to its continuance and ideals than those who come later merely to enjoy its benefits. Also liked the undercurrent references to the way that violence is almost pursued by younger generations because, to some degree, it has been so lacking in our everyday lives (no war draft, and we're typically not exposed to tragedy or death in the same ways that people in other countries must deal with them on a much more regular basis). There are many good themes in this book, and Garland did a great job of conveying them while writing a story that is entertaining enough to stand on its own.

(Spoiler alert)
This book is The Hunger Games all over again. And I don't mean that it's simply book two in the series. I mean, reading this was serious deja vu, because it literally replicates what happens in the first book. When I picked this up, I honestly expected for there to be a swift progression into the development of the rebellion against the Capitol. Instead, what I got was a repeat of Katniss and Peeta being harvested for another games. I stupidly assumed that there was no way Collins would actually allow them to end up in the arena again, and rather that they would somehow avoid it. I was wrong.

The concept of the games is interesting, but not intriguing enough to be fully rendered TWICE in as many books. I feel that the original story provided ample opportunity for Collins to create a truly gripping plot movement showing the development of a fascinating upheaval against the Capitol. Instead, it seems that she got a bit lazy and simply fell back on the excitement of the games, which, although it worked well in book one, felt entirely redundant and unimaginative when depicted in Catching Fire.

My expectations for this book were too high, and so, when I began reading, I was immediately disappointed by Collins' style: it's simplistic and full of incomplete sentences. I know this is stylistic, but it still took some getting used to.

Otherwise, Collins has created a well-rounded sci-fi world in which it's easy to lose oneself. Katniss is likeable and tough, with admirable common sense, which makes it easy to cheer for her throughout the story. The concept of a dictatorial, heavy-handed government is frighteningly rendered, and therefore makes it easy to see how the possibility of a reality game centered around brutal killings could emerge as a form of oppression.

Honestly, Collins could have wrapped up the series here with (spoiler alert) some references to how Katniss' and Peeta's final action in the games was the momentum which led to all of the districts finally rebelling against the Capitol. I would have been fine with everything ending on that note, rather than the trite cliff-hanger that closes this book.

You’ve heard this song on the radio. Maybe not so much anymore now because it’s so last year, but it will pop up every once in a while when a station is doing a flashback to 2011. Every time I hear it, I have to smile.  Pitbull, Ne-Yo and Nayer singing, “Tonight, give me everything...

After sort of slogging through the Mistborn series, it took me a few years to try Sanderson again. Elantris, at least, promised to have everything wrapped up within a single volume, which was enough to get me reading it.

The concepts in this book are brilliant. I love the idea of a city to which the "dead" are relegated, and also the mythic stories about the fall of the once great city. The lead characters are all very likable, and generally make intelligent decisions, which always makes a book more enjoyable, and characters’ actions more believable, to me.

In fact, I had a hard time putting this book down for the first three-quarters. Then, as it became clear that things were beginning to reach a crescendo, the momentum seemed to slow down. Just like with Mistborn, I felt like I was really having to push myself to read the final quarter (or so) of this book – I really wanted to know what was going to happen, but it simply wasn’t happening quickly enough. This was surprising since the rest of the book moved along so well.

By the time I put the book down, I was relieved to be finished, which was a disappointment considering how fully I had enjoyed the majority of the story.

Yet even with such unfocused goals, the OWS Movement (reportedly) has the support of the majority of Americans. I think that in the minds of many Americans, OWS has become representative of every evil that we associate with crooked bankers and corrupt politicians. Even more so, I think that somehow, the movement is the embodiment of the overwhelming vulnerability and powerlessness that Americans are feeling today for countless different reasons. Perhaps the success of OWS is BECAUSE of the fact that it has not been able to clearly state its goals. This allows an otherwise inchoate movement to take on the form of every ill and evil that each American senses in a nation that has begun to seem like a hostile environment since 2007.