Happy first day of fall!
Happy first day of fall!
Yesterday I was sitting on a stalled path train (for non tri-state people, that’s the subway that goes from Manhattan to New Jersey) for nearly five minutes before noticing that the train had, in fact, stalled.
That’s because I was, as I can be found most mornings, engrossed in a book. (This one, this week. It’s charming and sad and lovely. So, worth the hype so far.)
I happened to glance up and see the irritation and fatigue on my fellow passengers’ faces. Because most of them were just sitting there. Without a book. And I thought, why would anyone ever go anywhere, particularly an underground public transit system prone to delays, without a book?
When I got home yesterday, I got some not-so-great news. I reacted in what I suppose was an appropriate manner, then (not so) patiently got through my evening routine so I could dive into bed, and back into my book. So I could escape the world.
This has been my modus operandi for literally as long as I can remember. When I got yelled at as a child, when I was having issues with my friends in middle school, or with my parents in high school, my mind would instantly slide sideways to a favorite read, and I would feel better.
Because I knew the world I was currently in, filled to the brim with its problems, could be escaped. I held that escape in my hand.
So I guess books are my drug of choice. They’re what I flee to, what I’m addicted to, what I turn to when the world is a wrong-sized shoe. They comfort me and distract me and make me feel so much less alone.
I think that’s why I
want to be am a writer. Because if it weren’t for books, I don’t know where I’d be. I think the greatest thing I will ever accomplish in this life will have someone, someday, say that that a story I wrote served this purpose for them.
I have to remind myself sometimes how incredibly lucky I am to have something I love so much so easily accessible to me. And then I feel sorry for the people who don’t have that. To each their own and all, but I don’t understand how people who don’t read books survive.
So thank you, books, for always being there for me. I honestly have no idea what I’d do without you.
Image found here
Apologies for the longer-than-expected hiatus! It’s been quite the busy week and a half. Changes are coming my way. Which is terrifying, but good. I hope. More on that later.
Today I want to talk about the reason I bawled myself to sleep last night. Unsurprisingly, it was because of a book.
Is this book worth the hype?
In which I attempt to put my feelings about my favorite book of all time into words.
I discovered Tana French one summer day while wandering around Central Park on my lunch break. I picked up In The Woods because it sounded interesting (also, the cover was cool). I had no idea what I was getting myself into.
I reviewed that amazing book here. (Do not go past the jump as there are SPOILERS and that book is so wonderful you must read it unspoiled.)
In The Woods is the story of Rob, a 30-something detective in Ireland, solving a case with his partner Cassie. Full disclosure: I’m not necessarily a detective novel person. But these books are so much more than simply detective novels. They’re psychological thrillers, in-depth character studies, devastating, realistic portraits of humanity, all composed of the most beautiful prose I have ever had the pleasure of reading.
And God the taste of undercover on my tongue again, the brush of it down the little hairs on my arms. I’d thought I remembered what it was like, every detail, but I’d been wrong: memories are nothing, soft as gauze against the ruthless razor-fineness of that edge, beautiful and lethal, one tiny slip and it’ll slice to the bone.
In The Woods ends on a somewhat ambiguous note, to put it mildly. So when I was told there was a sequel told from Cassie’s point of view, I obviously picked it up ASAP.
Except The Likeness isn’t exactly a sequel. You can read it without reading In The Woods–but don’t. So much of what happened in that book affects Cassie’s behavior in this one, and to skip that one is to miss out on so much of the beautifully woven threads that make up The Likeness.
I will have to get spoiler-y to talk about my love for this book but I will save it for after the jump.
So why should you read this book?
The Goodreads summary is brief:
Six months after the events of In the Woods, an urgent telephone call beckons detective Cassie Maddox to a grisly crime scene. The victim looks exactly like Cassie and carries ID identifying herself as Alexandra Madison, an alias Cassie once used. Suddenly, Cassie must discover not only who killed this girl, but, more importantly, who she is.
So the plot of this book requires a certain amount of suspension of disbelief. Cassie finds the body of Lexie, who is identical to her in every way. So in an effort to find out who killed Lexie, Cassie goes undercover as her.
And she succeeds.
I would like to think that if some other person were to step into my life as me, the people I love would notice. So yes. Suspension of disbelief. But this book is so good you just don’t even care.
Tell me this beginning doesn’t hook you:
This is Lexie Madison’s story, not mine. I’d love to tell you one without getting into the other, but it doesn’t work that way. I used to think I sewed us together at the edges with my own hands, pulled the stitches tight and I could unpick them any time I wanted. Now I think it always ran deeper than that and farther, underground; out of sight and way beyond my control.
This much is mine though; everything I did. Frank puts it all down to the others, mainly to Daniel, while as far as I can tell Sam thinks that, in some obscure and slightly bizarro way, it was Lexie’s fault. When I say it wasn’t like that, they give me careful sideways looks and change the subject–I get the feeling Frank thinks I have some creepy variant of Stockholm syndrome. That does happen to undercovers sometimes, but not this time. I’m not trying to protect anyone; there’s no one left to protect. Lexie and the others will never know they’re taking the blame and wouldn’t care if they did. But give me more credit than that. Someone else may have dealt the hand, but I picked it up off the table, I played every card, and I had my reasons.
Lexie lived with her best friends, four other students in a rambling old mansion outside of Dublin. So Cassie moves in with them. And gets so caught up in their world, their strange, flawed, intertwined lives, that solving the mystery of who killed Lexie nearly becomes secondary to her.
“That kind of friendship doesn’t just materialize at the end of the rainbow one morning in a soft-focus Hollywood haze. For it to last this long, and at such close quarters, some serious work had gone into it. Ask any ice-skater or ballet dancer or show jumper, anyone who lives by beautiful moving things: nothing takes as much work as effortlessness.”
People have compared this novel to The Secret History and it’s true there are a tremendous amount of similarities. Brilliant, eccentric students, a dead body, secrets, etc. But the difference is that every character in the Secret History is such a horrible human being to the point where you struggle to believe they could even exist. In contrast, Daniel, Abby, Rafe, and Justin are real, they’re funny, they’re lovely, they’re devastatingly flawed. Like Cassie, I fell in love with each and every one of them. I wanted to climb inside this book and live there.
“And then there’s its hair,” Justin said, pushing the vegetables across to me. “Don’t forget the hair. It’s horrible.”
“It’s wearing a dead person’s hair,” Rafe informed me. “If you stick a pin in the doll, you can hear screaming coming from the graveyard. Try it.”
“See what I mean?” Abby said, to me. “Wusses. It’s got real hair. Why he thinks it’s from a dead person—”
“Because your poppet was made in about 1890 and I can do subtraction.”
It’s the relationships between these people that really get to you. (The Irishness of them all is pretty cool, too.) Above all, this is a story of friends who love each other. It’s the kind of love that generally gives way to family and spouse love as people grow up and get married and have children. Friendship love. Tana French has said:
I’m fascinated by friendship … I think it’s possible to be a healthy, fulfilled human being without a partner or children, but I’m not sure it’s possible to be a whole, healthy human being without good friends, so I’ve always been interested in the intensity of friendship and the dangers that can come with that. Great friendships are incredibly powerful, passionate things and I think it’s explored less in fiction than the danger that might come in romantic or family relationships.
And it’s simply this–friendship–that makes this book so powerful. That–and how easily it can break.
When you’re too close to people, when you spend too much time with them and love them too dearly, sometimes you can’t see them. Unless Daniel was bluffing, he had made one last mistake, the same one he had been making all along. He was seeing the other four not as they were but as they should have been, could have been in some softer-edged and warmer world.
If you haven’t read this book, go do so immediately. (After reading In The Woods.)
If you have read this book and want to hear me blather about it some more, read on…
SPOILERS BELOW. DO NOT READ IF YOU HAVE NOT READ THIS BOOK.