ewee (27/26): Ender's Game by Orson Scott Card

Eh, it's ok. A classic, I suppose, and has its merits. Mainly tho, it was a great absorbing read as I sat home with a fever and a lingering sense of fatigue, achy-ness, and annoyance. (I'm a baby when sick, and I was thwarted by inconsistent wireless access all day.) Portions of it are imaginative, and I can see why there's so much acclaim for it. I'd go so far to say that there are even truly original ideas in this book. But yeah I'm mostly just glad to have had a book to distract me from being bored and sullen.

ewee (26!/26): Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows by J. K. Rowling

It's over. I admit, I'm a little distraught. 7 books in 10 years (has it really been that long?), where will I find sucha steady source of reading material to immerse myself? And I'm done! 26 books!...and still reading! (Sure, it's not 52, but thanks, miz k for the push to read!)

This was quite possibly the best out of the series. Rowling's writing style has become more polished, her characters more nuanced, and plot was tightly woven together. It seems obvious that the ending was planned out with great detail, and the story grew out from there. All along, there have been elements that were heavy-handed or, at the very least, unsubtle. And it's still fluff. But what wonderful fluff, and how I'll miss it...

Yong 6/26: Black Swan Green by David Mitchell

Ace. Brill. Epic. Rich, you should totally read this book. The last few I've read have been okay. This one I unabashedly enjoyed. Ever wonder what it'd've been like to be a 13-year old boy growing up in a small village in England in the early 80's? Well, David Mitchell takes you there anyways, plants you firmly in the shoes of one Jason Taylor, immerses you in the language, the reasoning, the angst, imagination, turmoil, and triumphs, of a boy becoming...not a man yet, but no longer a boy, neither, and nevermore. Absolutely brilliant, this. This is going to have to be my last book before school starts up again. And a damn fine read it was.

ewee (24-25/26): Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix and Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, by J. K. Rowling

Well, I'm not quite up to the final book in the series (hoping to get my hands on it tonight). It's fluff. And it's not nearly as good as many books in a similar vein that came before them. And tho I once stood in line for them, I've (begrugingly) given up trying to hold on to the series, and am just borrowing them from the library and friends.

But I will say that Rowling's writing style has improved as the series has progressed. Some of the more awkward characterizations have smoothed out, and the stories have become more nuanced and engaging (my word for the day, evidently). And if you like this particular brand of fluff, there's a certain comfort in knowing that seven HUGE books exist in which you can get yourself throughly lost. When I finish devouring book seven, I fear I will be a bit bereft. Not because I'll miss the characters, but more because there's one more series I can't lose myself in.

My friend claims that it's a guy magnet. While that hasn't been my experience (possibly since I employ fairly stringent anti-magnetic forces in that realm), I did have a hilarious moment with a bespeckled kid on a razor scooter. Most mornings/evenings as I trudge past their house to/from BART, I'm worth little less than a glance as they careen past on their scooters or frantic screaming game of, well, screaming and running. (It's incredible what three kids can get up to on half a block of little skinny bit of sidewalk.) There must be tons of folks passing through the edges of Chinatown, and compared to their high pitched constant motion, we trudging adults must seem like dull-witted obstacles in their frenetic race course. But one evening, I was walking and reading Book 5 (which is all I'd wanted to do all day anyhow), and as this skinny kid careened around the sidewalk with his brothers, he zoomed up to me (but thanks to his youngster reflexes, didn't hit me) and screamed out "HARRY POTTTER!!!" at the top of his lungs. It kinda made emerging from the book worth it. But I quickly lost myself back in the book, in case this kid decided to tell me how the book (and series!) would end.

Plus, as my co-worker mentioned, any book that makes kids want to read is ok in my book.

ewee (23/26): On Beauty, by Zadie Smith

Whoa. I'm totally disorganized! I forgot to finish this posting (started 7/24/07), and completely forgot I read this book. Woohoo! I'm further ahead than I thought!

It's not Smith's fault that I'd forgotten that I'd read this fabulous book. I've just been distracted (hairy potty, house hunting, outrigger racing).

On Beauty is a lovely bit of original work, but also an homage to Howard's End. Smith is an engaging and intelligent writer. Throughout the book, I knew there were many layers I wasn't even close to understanding. But that's part of this book's strength. It's not so intelligent as to be obtuse. The characters are flawed and engaging, and I found myself immersed in the narrative without much effort.

Much more intelligent and intellible reviews here:

• Village Voice Review
• NPR's review
• Guardian.co.uk's review
• NYT.com's review

[Note: You can read Howard's End in its entirety online. I've been intending to, but, well, again, all the distractions.]

Yong 5/26: Golden Country by Jennifer Gilmore

Fathers and daughters. Mothers and sons. Grandparents, brothers, sisters. Husbands and wives. We see events of the last century unfold around the intertwined lives of three families. The nuances are specific: Jews, New York City. But the stories are universal: the immigrant experience, the American dream, life, death, dreams, harsh reality, but above all human relationships. And like real life, many of these relationships are not good. But some of them are. And if we have the strength and the self-awareness to allow ourselves to not have to learn everything the hard way...we can learn a lot for our own lives through the heartaches--and the joys--of the Brodskys, the Blooms, and the Verdoniks.

Coincidental aside: In the last couple books I've read, the title is also a recurring thematic term in two languages. Golden country appears multiple times alongside the Yiddish goldene medina. And white ghost girl with its Chinese (Cantonese?) gwaimui.

Yong 4/26: White Ghost Girls by Alice Greenway

Two American girls come of age in Hong Kong, anchorless without their father who is mostly away in Vietnam photographing the war. The short book is almost entirely told in the descriptive rather than narrative, making it not so quick a read. While this is effective in putting you in the scene, showing the beauty of the country, sharing the characters' love of the land, it also distances, slows, makes the writer's art apparent rather than transparent. The story packs a punch. But it makes you work for it. Nevertheless, I find myself thinking back to these girls, their story, long after I finished the book, more so than I have for my prior three books.