literature – Page 2 – Kristin Houlihan, Writer

Book Review: The Wonderful Story of Henry Sugar and Six More by Roald Dahl

Earlier this year I picked up The Wonderful Story of Henry Sugar and Six More by Roald Dahl to read with my daughter (who is now 8), having been under the mistaken impression that it is a children’s book. Eek – it is NOT. It’s a good book, and I’m glad I read it, but I’m equally glad that she lost interest after a couple of stories.
The Wonderful Story of Henry Sugar and Six More

The book is an interesting mix of stories, including several fictional stories as well as an autobiographical story and one true narrative. Overall, though, my feeling about the book is that it’s pretty dark. One story in particular follows young boys as they strap another child to a train track and watch as the train passes over him (!) – this story prompted my daughter to ask, “Mom, why would someone write that story?” My response was something along the lines of how there are bad people in the world, like those mean characters, and sometimes writers will write those stories to help them understand the bad things in the world. I told her that all stories present some truth from the world and have something to teach us, but that we don’t have to read those stories if we don’t like them. That was the last story we read together in the book, but I went on to finish it myself.

I give the book three stars, because it was well-written, engaging, and interesting…but not amazing and slightly disturbing. The autobiographical story is illuminating as to the author’s life though repetitive if you’ve read part of his autobiography (as I have). I do think it should be clearly advertised as NOT A CHILDREN’S BOOK, though!

Short Stories and Sci-fi – Stepping out of my comfort zone (and a book review!)

So, my first grown-up book of 2019 was Nomad of the Emirates by E.B. Dawson (I mentioned this in a previous post).

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This book was fantastic, and reminiscent of Ursula Le Guin’s The Left Hand of Darkness, which I read last year at the recommendation of author Thomas Fenske. As in The Left Hand of Darkness, Nomad of the Emirates features a lone human emissary to an alien planet and follows the human’s interactions with and efforts to survive in the entirely foreign environment. Nomad of the Emirates tackles issues of race, culture, and class with a depth and emotionality that is impressive in such a short story, and these are the issues, I think, that will resonate with a wide audience. Jessica, the protagonist of the story, I believe, will also strike a chord with many people. What really blows me away is the Dawson’s worldbuilding. I feel like I understand the fictional world of Dawson’s The Emirates as well as, if not better than, Le Guin’s Winter, which is an impressive feat for such a short work. (There’s your bonus book review!)

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Now, about that comfort zone…

One author who asked me for a review described my reading style as “hard to pin down,” which I think is a pretty apt description; I read a lot, from all different genres. That being said, short stories and science fiction are things I’ve only recently begun to seek out. I started picking up short stories in 2017, and continued to do so in 2018. It’s a form of writing that I just didn’t even really think about. I’ve read quite a few now, though, including some collections, and I find the format intriguing, if a little broad. Let’s look at a dictionary definition of “short story”:

(n) an invented prose narrative shorter than a novel usually dealing with a few characters and aiming at unity of effect and often concentrating on the creation of mood rather than plot (Merriam Webster)

“Shorter than a novel.” That explains how some I’ve read are two pages long, and some are much, much longer. I do find it interesting, though, to think about the intention as described in the definition. It’s something I’d like to reflect more upon as I read more short stories…

My adventures into science fiction sort of happened by chance, and while I’ve enjoyed the works I’ve read I’m not sure it’s a genre I’ll seek out for its own sake. My big sci-fi read of 2018 was The Left Hand of Darkness, which is described on Goodreads as “a groundbreaking work of science fiction.” I picked this up after the death of Ursula Le Guin in 2018, of whom I had sadly just become aware; Nomad of the Emirates is my most recent sci fi read, and I think the last time I read sci-fi was when I read Ender’s Game over a decade ago. Left Hand and Nomad were both good books, but each makes me want to read more from the author rather than more of the genre per se. I’m open to persuasion, though, if you all have any suggestions!

I think by last count I have over 60 unread books on my Kindle (yikes!), but I’m always open to recommendations. What short stories do you love? What books made you fall in love with science fiction? Share in the comments!

Why “The Hobbit” is not just for kids – Reblog from Aleteia.org

I came across this commentary this morning and I think it’s just wonderful. While I haven’t read The Hobbit since high school, it is one of the books (along with Lord of the Rings) that I hope to introduce to my kids when they’re old enough. The author of this commentary, Tod Worner, captures, I think, the essence of why I read and what I hope my children gain from reading. I particularly love the GK Chesterton quote he includes! Please find the original piece here.

Why ‘The Hobbit’ is not just for kids

Tod Worner | Jul 03, 2018

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How reading J.R.R. Tolkien’s story to his 10-year-old daughter unexpectedly stirred this father’s soul.

I have a confession to make.

I am just finishing The Hobbit for the first time. And I am almost 45.

Okay, okay. So it’s not scandalous. But to those who consider themselves well-read Catholics, not having read The Hobbit and its three-volume sequel, The Lord of the Rings, is considered perplexing if not irresponsible. After all, they are essential works of the moral imagination.

For years, I have been told how good these books are. In them, tales unfold of an extraordinary quest of unlikely heroes, unimaginable creatures and unexpected twists. Ice-capped mountains and lush valleys, barren hillsides and forbidding forests serve as terrain for a motley crew of unlikely allies who strive and suffer together towards an end much larger than themselves.

And so, earlier this year, my 10-year-old daughter and I decided to embark on reading The Hobbit together nightly as she went to bed.

And it has been extraordinary.

As we walked each night with the diminutive Bilbo Baggins from his cozy home in the Shire to the perilous wide world of Middle Earth, we encountered elves and wizards, trolls and goblins, spiders and orcs. We sensed the constant thrill of the adventure ahead mixed (paradoxically) with the forlorn homesickness for what was left behind. Again and again, we agreed with Bilbo’s skepticism about himself. He is a nimble thief? He is an indispensable member of group of dwarves trekking to reclaim a mountain and its treasure from a hell-spewing dragon? He is a hero? Right. But then, time and again, Bilbo proved he was just a little bit smarter, just a touch braver, just a smidge better than either my daughter or I expected. The little hobbit was growing. And we were growing with him.

But there were no small number of times that I wondered what the devil this hobbit thought he was doing. He had a comfortable home and an easy-going life. His books were well-ordered and his larder was full. His fire was toasty and his room warmly-lit. Why leave it all? Why walk away from the known and predictable for the wild and uncertain? Night after night, just walking with Bilbo into the greater unknown made me pull the comforter a bit tighter and snuggle a bit closer to my daughter.

But, after all, that is what these tales are all about. They remind us of our smallness, but our potential for greatness. They illustrate the peril of living dangerously, but also the risk of not living at all. They re-acquaint us with eternal verities (often considered outmoded) such as duty, loyalty and honor as well as the bright line (forever at risk of being blurred) separating right from wrong and good from evil. They instill in us a devotion to each other and a greater reason for being beyond our own selfish appetites. And they do this all in the form of a parable.

The great southern Catholic novelist Flannery O’Connor once observed,

“I tell a story because a statement would be in adequate.”

Quite right. In a world deaf to platitudes, J.R.R. Tolkien decided to shout with hideous orcs, an incinerating dragon and an intoxicating ring. But the tale isn’t a tale for the sake of telling a tale. Allegories are allegories for a reason. They speak to sins and virtues, temptations succumbed to and temptations resisted, damnation averted and grace received. As G.K. Chesterton once noted,

Fairy tales do not give the child the idea of the evil or the ugly; that is in the child already, because it is in the world already. Fairy tales do not give the child his first idea of bogey. What fairy tales give the child is his first clear idea of the possible defeat of bogey. The baby has known the dragon intimately ever since he had an imagination. What the fairy tale provides for him is a St. George to kill the dragon.

Indeed.

We must remember: The dragon can be killed. The ring can be destroyed. You can endure suffering. You can return home.

Chesterton reminds us,

At the back of our brains, so to speak, there was a forgotten blaze or burst of astonishment at our own existence … The object of the artistic and spiritual life was to dig for this submerged sunrise or wonder; so that a man sitting in a chair might suddenly understand that he was actually alive, and be happy.

As I was lying there reading The Hobbit to my 10-year-old daughter, I smiled and once again understood.

I am alive.

And I am happy.

Thank you, Todd and Aleteia!