Book Review: Water for Elephants

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When my mother gives me books, I begin to fit in more with the “vast reading public.” It’s the Borders crowd, with their lattes and $25 books, the one’s whose books are always new and often on the Bestsellers list. Call me cynical, but I say the system feeds on itself. The public selects novels that have been selected for them by publishers and accepted by chain retailers who sell limited table space to showcase them. I don’t have $25 for every book I want to read, and my penchant is to catch up on classics before forging ahead. (I think the test of time is a worthy one.)

However, these feelings don’t actually take away from the value of the literature that does make it out there. This novel, Sara Gruen’s Water for Elephants made it on the New York Times Bestsellers list for over a year! Having read it, I see how Water for Elephants is a crowd-pleaser, and it is definitely a pleasant read.

Circus, love, age, elephants, insanity, dwarfs…and in the end, the young lovers come together despite the boundaries of society to form a happy union and long life. There’s peril a top train cars and in lion cages and just a little bit of sex, all seen through the intelligent and honest failed medical student who ends up among them.


Great literature? Nah. It’s a little trite. There’s a lot to be said for easily-digestable fun though, and for the carny angle.

What do you think? Am I too blase?

Opera Review: Salome

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Salome is not like those gay Italian (soap) operas, nor those dramatic Wagnerian pieces. A short 1 hour and 40 minutes, this Biblical tragedy told in a Modern way has a minimalist score that evokes a single consciousness, Salome’s. Salome dances for Herod to obtain Joachanon’s head on a silver platter.
Salome as a character really came through in this production, as the soprano Karita Mattila infused her gesture with a childish impatience and a spoiled teenager’s demanding attitude. Altogether, an interesting and odd piece, maybe a bit limited in scope. It becomes whatever the soprano can make of it, most likely. An fascinating story psycholigically and one containing great extremes, it lends itself to opera.
Let me just say for my part–I had been up since 5 AM. I wanted to listen to every second, but–to the amusement of my boyfriend–I did not catch some of the middle. I was, however, completely awake when Salome was singing to the head. That part held some of the most beautiful moments, if a little twisted due to the perversity of the plot. Overall, Wilde would have appreciated the modern and functional stage design.

Nitpicks:

  • The black-winged creatures on the far right of the stage were a little hokey.
  • Opera singers are not burlesque dancers. Although I imagine that Mattila’s young and energetic performance would bedazzle most, and the flash of full nudity was nicely done, it was the clumsiest striptease I’ve ever seen. The only one I’ve ever seen to Strauss though.
  • The Dance of the Seven Veils is not a misnomer. Use veils!
  • The end, where Herod orders Salome’s execution, was underwhelming. I was hoping she would be rushed by the black monkey creatures, like in The Wizard of Oz.

Overall, I love going to the Met. It feels like such an event every time. I liked, but did not love, Salome.

Novel Life

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My employer told me he was giving me material for my book.
“How?” I ask.
“Black Monday, stocks tumbling, etc, etc, do this, do that, go get me a coffee…”
Erm, yes, this is brilliant material. The stuff of that dreams are made of.

Should I be blogging less, and finding a job with a future?