Books I Read On Airplanes

I’m currently seated at my computer in the box office with a plastic cup of wine, swanked to the nines, after having successfully done my part in getting yet another opening night on its feet. What better time to (very quietly) review the books I read to and from my afore-mentioned frozen adventure?

SPOILERS!

On the way there: The Historian by Elizabeth Kostova

If there’s one thing I like, it’s books that make me feel smart. The Historian did that in spades, to the point that I almost wanted to feel dumb. It’s a delightfully gothic take on the myth of Dracula and vampire lore in general (complete with the Mysterious Disappearance of the Professor!), with a heavy Da Vinci Code-esque helping of dusty medieval documents, designed in such an intensely literary way that you’re not sure what’s actual historical fact and what’s from the author’s imagination. It works perfectly, because after a while you have to start reminding yourself that while Vlad the Impaler was an actual dude, he is not still alive today. I very much enjoyed Kostova’s take on the familiar entity of the blood-sucking vamp; these are not your forever-young leather-clad poets and rock stars with tortured cigarettes who manage make chomping on arteries look totally sexy. No, they’re cursed, rotting, and totally creeptastic, just the way Bram Stoker would’ve liked. Also, if you like European history, European architecture, European languages, or European food, this book is porn. I’m fairly certain that Kostova has traveled through all of the Old World and wrote down every single amazing meal she had in every single idyllic locale.

My critique of this book is that after intellectually getting myself off for about 600 pages, I wanted a bit more action. The slow pace in which the undead monsters are revealed works like a charm, and is genuinely scary. However, about two thirds of the way through, I got a little tired of phrases along the lines of “He finished reading the ancient tome and we gasped at what we had heard.” Yes, I get it, it’s creepy and you’re totally shocked. Stop with the gasping and get on with the slayage.

The fact that I liked a book about vampire lore is saying something. I am highly skeptical of vampire books, which tend to turn into bodice rippers for high school goths 99.9% of the time, and I often avoid them altogether. Despite the fact that I was a little underwhelmed with the pacing leading to the end, overall, I found it quite enjoyable. It was a killer (ha ha) way to cross the Atlantic, and I left it on Berglaug’s bookshelf, something I would only do with something truly good.

There and on the way back: Fragile Things by Neil Gaiman

Now, before I read this collection of short stories, I already held Neil Gaiman in the highest regard, so perhaps I’m a bit biased. No matter, because Fragile Things didn’t disappoint in the slightest. I enjoyed the pants off of every story herein. What I love about the illustrious author in question is that he can write genuinely disturbing and scary things, but he does it with such a levity and whimsy that even a wuss like me can eagerly lap up the poetry in the squickier things that grace his pages from time to time. There is a joy in his writing, a simple exuberance in storytelling that is hard to find elsewhere. He blends old school horror and fantasy traits and a totally modern aesthetic with such care. That’s the thing: you really feel that when you read his stories, you’re there with him. You can feel how much fun he had doing it, and how important it was to him.

So ok. Enough fangirl gushing. A Study in Emerald was a treat (Sherlock Holmes and Cthulhu! Why didn’t someone think of it before?!), Instructions I want to print out and keep in my wallet, How Do You Think It Feels? I found hauntingly beautiful, Forbidden Brides made me giggle. Wasn’t as wild about Strange Little Girls, which was just a little too esoteric. October in the Chair was a damned clever idea, but I didn’t think it ended quite right. Oh, and I think that every woman who was once a little girl that wanted to go to Narnia needs to read The Problem With Susan, because, um, BRILLIANT. If you haven’t picked up any of Mr. Gaiman’s work as of yet, do yourself a favor: get this book, a cup of hot cocoa, and have a lovely, weird, fantastical afternoon.

On a side note, I must say that I am tickled to be finally writing a book review for once. It’s been a long while since I had the time, and that is one of the nice things about flying. I need to read more books, and so should you. If you don’t read books, I have just one thing to say to you: