In Which Trai Reviews 'Spider-Man: Blue'

Yet another delayed review--this semester doesn't like me! In the interest of time (and because it's been more than a month since I've seen it, by now), I'm delaying my review of One Day until the DVD comes out, so that I can watch it again and have it fresh in my mind, rather than go by the muddled memories I have of what I liked and disliked. Sorry, all!

The Book: Spider-Man: Blue

The Author and The Artist: Jeph Loeb and Tim Sale

How I Found It: My interest in the relationship between Peter and Gwen Stacy, soon to be portrayed in 2012's The Amazing Spider-Man, led me to this.

The Review: "So, it's Valentine's Day and there's a place I stop by once a year... It's about remembering someone who was so important to me I was going to spend the rest of my life with her. I didn't know that meant she would only get to spend the rest of her life with me."

Even years later, Peter Parker still mourns the loss of his first love, Gwen Stacy (I reviewed the original issues of that storyline here). The first few pages depict Spider-Man going to the bridge where Gwen was killed and leaving a single rose in the water, and the "voiceover" in the panels lets us know that Peter is recording a sort of love letter to Gwen, wanting to tell their story for posterity's sake.

Peter has realized, with hindsight being what it is, that in his life, things have to get very bad before they can get very good. His courtship with Gwen Stacy was one of those times. When our flashbacks begin, Peter is being held captive by the Green Goblin--who just so happens to be his best friend's father, although the man himself is unaware of that. There's a dilemma: how do you protect yourself from an archvillain who knows who you are but who's near and dear to your best friend? You can't kill him. So Peter does the best he can: knocks the Goblin out, triggering the amnesia that acts as Norman's safeguard, and saves Norman from a fire. Maybe, Peter reflects, if he'd left him for dead, Gwen would still be alive.

With the Goblin neutralized, other foes want a piece of Peter--the Rhino, the Lizard, two Vultures, and Kraven the Hunter. Our hero has enough on his mind already... and that's not even counting the two women vying for his attention. One is Gwen Stacy. The other is Mary Jane Watson. Peter is going to have to pull off one complicated balancing act.

Given how invested I'd become in the love story of Peter and Gwen, as well as in Peter as a character, I expected to like this graphic novel, to appreciate the story it told, to get a small glimpse of the romance between the two of them. I reminded myself, however, that this was a romance written by men for a predominantly male audience. In The Death of Gwen Stacy, I took note of and often enjoyed the cheeky little remarks about Peter and Gwen's romantic monologues being tiring for a young male audience. I expected more of the same here.

I was so glad to be proven wrong. What I got was a very moving, very human meditation on lost love, on memory, and on what impact a death can have on those left behind. When I saw those first few pages, where Spider-Man drops a rose off the bridge to commemorate his fallen love, I already had tears in my eyes. Jeph Loeb's writing is beautifully done, but Tim Sale's artwork works with it perfectly. There's so much vivid color (showing the liveliness of the girls as well as the garishness of the villains) but also such subdued tones, reflecting Peter's mental state. I thought I understood Peter as a character well before I read this, but there was a layer revealed to me here that I'd never anticipated. Peter is many things--a geek, a hero, a son without parents, a loving nephew--but here I came to appreciate him as a man in love.

It's Peter's relationships that are important here. We get to see him with Aunt May, the cornerstone of his life and someone who always looks out for him. (There's a touching scene where both she and Peter contemplate moving in with friends of theirs, and neither one wants to go first, not wanting to hurt the other's feelings--only to realize what they've been withholding, and to be fully supportive of the other's decision.) We get to see him with Harry Osborn, who's more appreciative of Peter after he rescues his father, and who starts becoming a good friend to him. We get to see him with Flash Thompson, his biggest bully, who, ironically, worships Spider-Man. We get to see him with Curt Connors, otherwise known as The Lizard, a tragic villain in every sense of the word (his efforts to regrow his amputated arm are what causes him to turn into the Lizard, isolating him from his wife and young son).

Most importantly, we see why Gwen Stacy and Mary Jane become the two great loves of Peter's life. I was so pleased with the handling of the love triangle; I wish more material involving the trope worked like this. Neither side is villified, as is so common in romances involving a love triangle. Heck, Gwen and Mary Jane are actually pretty good friends. When both of them come to nurse Peter as he lies ill, there's a bit of tension there, but it doesn't turn into a cliched catfight--it's more of a friendly rivalry. Peter is attracted to Gwen because she matches his personality; she is into science just as he is, and he likes making her happy (indeed, he buys the aforementioned motorcycle to impress her). He's attracted to Mary Jane because she's the life of the party, a counterpoint to his own personality (I love the scene where she helps Peter get past the police blockade so he can take his pictures).

His relationship with Gwen is portrayed through a lot of longing and a lot of inner monologue. Like any young man, Peter worries about how he'll measure up to Gwen's expectations. He worries about money that he doesn't have, that he'd need to go on dates. He worries about what she'll think of him becoming friends with Mary Jane. Through all this worry, though, Peter truly appreciates Gwen as a person, so much so that he can remember so much so vividly even years later. He loves her smile and her kindness, and Gwen loves how daring he is, which intrigues her enough to finally take the jump and ask him to be her Valentine. And just as Peter says, that's when she had him--all of him.

My favorite scene in the entire graphic novel comes towards the end, when we get a glimpse into Peter's married life post-Gwen. Mary Jane finds the visibly upset Peter in their attic, having heard a good part of his monologue for Gwen, and she just wants to make sure he's all right. Before she leaves, she makes a request: "Will you do me a favor, Peter? Say 'hello' for me... and tell Gwen I miss her, too." I saw at least a few reviews that couldn't understand Peter's desire to remember Gwen, viewing it as "cheating on Mary Jane with a memory." I think this scene proves that it wasn't that at all. Gwen's death is what changed Mary Jane, what got her to realize that life wasn't always a party and that everything must come to an end. Peter recognizes this, and so does she. For me, someone who's recently come to love Peter and Gwen's relationship, but who's always been a fan of Peter and Mary Jane, this scene was everything I'd wanted to see. It proves that when moving on after a loss, one doesn't necessarily have to forget the person who passed away. You can remember that person and love them all the same, and so can your loved ones, and it doesn't mean you love your current partner any less.

All in all, the graphic novel was a compelling exploration of Peter's psychology, as well as a touching account of his relationships with Gwen and Mary Jane. I'd most definitely recommend it to readers who want to know more about Spider-Man's early history, as well as someone like me who's interested in both of the major romantic relationships in Peter's life. This was a deeper and more romantic graphic novel than I expected, and I anticipate turning to it often over the next few years.

In Which Trai Reviews 'Black and Blue'

Hello to my reading public, small as it is--have a review that's at least two or three weeks late! My semester starting was marred by the wonderful hurricane weather, and I've been swamped in efforts to catch up. I have at least two other reviews to get to you this weekend (the film adaptation of One Day, as well as one of Jeph Loeb and Tim Sale's Spider-Man: Blue), so stay tuned!

The Book: Black and Blue: A Novel

The Author: Anna Quindlen

How I Found It: It came up as a recommendation as I browsed Amazon. This was apparently an Oprah's Book Club selection in 1998. My thanks to my local library.

The Review: The first time Fran is abused by her boyfriend, later husband, is when she's nineteen. He grabs her a little too hard after she talks to a friend's brother, leaves her with bruises--and appears perfectly contrite and apologetic when he next sees them.

Bobby's remorse doesn't always last. When they marry, Fran is trapped in a cycle of abuse and attempted atonement that will last almost twenty years, until a night when Bobby breaks her nose and she can no longer hide her abuse from the world--and, most importantly, their son, Robert. Fearing for her life and Robert's welfare, Fran makes the decision to flee, enlisting the help of Patty Bancroft, a woman who specializes in relocating abused women, claiming to be even better than the witness protection program.

Fran and Robert settle in Florida, living new lives as Elizabeth and Robert Crenshaw. Fran cannot forget what Bobby did to her, but she can try and forge a new life. It might not be so easy, since Robert's bond with his father is strong, and she knows that Bobby will always be looking for them. Nothing, not even the protection of a local gym teacher and a new best friend, can keep Fran feeling safe.

I've never read anything by Anna Quindlen before, unless I've read an article of hers without remembering, and now I think I'm curious enough to check out one of her other novels. I really enjoyed the writing style here--it was poetic, but somehow managed to convey the horrors of abuse in a way that felt realistic. Quindlen tells the story of Fran's escape linearly, but weaves it through with flashbacks to the various abuses Fran suffered. This, to me, made it feel as though Fran had escaped, but was constantly flashing back to life with Bobby, in a PTSD sort of way. This passage was perhaps my favorite in the novel:

"Or maybe Bobby had been having an argument with me in his head all day long--on the job in the car, while he was banging around the kitchen. Maybe it was an argument made of saved string, a big, brightly colored ball of an argument, the synthesis of all the arguments we'd ever had before. Why the fuck do you baby the boy go to your sister's ignore my mother wear that skirt work so many hours look at me like that fuck my friends your friends strangers doctors everyone anyone the man in the moon?" (171)

The attention to little details made the novel for me, and certain images will stick with me. The hem of Fran's wedding dress getting snagged on a nail on her wedding day, a sign of bad things to come. The first bruises Fran gave her being dark as a tattoo on her skin.

The content of the book never felt overly graphic, although it is disturbing, if true to life. The depiction of the hold Bobby has over Robert, even when they're miles away from him, is truly terrifying, and it really made me feel for women who must have had to deal with this situation in real life. What is it like when the child you've tried so desperately to protect from a monster still loves that monster, because it's his parent? What do you do in that situation, especially when the other parent can lie to the child and be believed without question?

The novel made me consider the reality of a battered woman's situation in a way I'd only barely done before, what with a Gender Violence class I took two semesters ago. I'd already known from that class that restraining orders and divorces are often ineffective at keeping an abusive husband or partner from his wife/girlfriend and/or children, but I hadn't even thought about how many must have to relocate completely and live new lives. I don't know if a program like Patty Bancroft's exists in real life, but if it does, I could see it being a real help for real women like the fictional Fran. Fran's situation is especially difficult because, as an ER nurse, she often sees the results of domestic abuse up close, as though she were looking in a mirror, seeing how horrifying the reflection truly is. If not for Patty Bancroft's network of volunteers, Fran might well have ended up in her own ER, dead or dying.

While Quindlen's novel was often unnerving and upsetting, especially towards the end, when the full scope of Fran's situation is revealed, I appreciated it for the perspective it gave me and the compelling way the story was told. Bobby and Fran are both nuanced characters and it's almost easy for the reader to understand why Fran kept returning to Bobby, despite his abuse. Quindlen's method of interspersing the flashbacks with the narrative, pulling the reader along to see what exactly happened in the past, was enough to keep me engaged in the narrative, and I recommend this novel to someone who might want a better understanding of the reality of a battered woman's situation. (Perhaps not to anyone younger than 15 or 16 or so--the violent content is disturbing, clearly, and there is some fairly frank sexual imagery and discussion.)

In Which Trai Reviews 'The Amazing Spider-Man: The Death of Gwen Stacy'

The Book: The Amazing Spider-Man: The Death of Gwen Stacy

The Author: Gerry Conway (and a whole team of writers and artists)

How I Found It: I'd heard for years about this immortal story arc--the death of Spider-Man's first true love--and finally decided to go for broke and read it once it became apparent that Gwen will be Peter's love interest in the impending franchise reboot. As ever, big ups to my local library.

The Review: I was perhaps not the ideal reader for this volume. I have little experience with the Spider-Man comics, if any; my only knowledge has been gleaned from the films, Wikipedia article-skimming, and a novelization of, I'm given to understand, the Peter/Mary Jane plotline in the Ultimate comics. (Mary Jane by Judith O'Brien, for anyone wondering--it actually remains a favorite novel of mine to this day, because it so accurately reflected high school life, and because it made me an eternal lover of Peter/Mary Jane.) Since I've been a devout Peter/Mary Jane shipper since childhood--they're one of the first fictional couples I remember really loving, before even Roswell's Max and Liz or The X-Files' Mulder and Scully--I just wasn't expecting to get so wrapped up in the death of Peter's first love. After all, he moved on and found happiness eventually with Mary Jane, so I knew it would be okay. That would negate the emotional impact, I thought.

Except that it really didn't. Even knowing next to nothing about Peter and Gwen's history together, next to nothing about the storyline in the comics up until then, I was still emotionally devastated by the story and surprised by how effective it was even years later. I can see now why this is such a landmark story, not only for Spider-Man but for comics in general. It's truly a feat.

At first, I admit, I got a good laugh at the artwork. One of my favorite Doctor Who episodes has a moment where the Doctor's former companion reveals K9, the old robot dog that used to assist her and the Doctor in the classic series, now worn out and broken. Rose, the current companion, looks at the very out-of-date robot and says, "Why does he look so... disco?" That was pretty much my reaction. When Peter's walking around wearing gold chains and painfully Technicolor suits, and Harry looks closer to thirty than college age... yeah. Stack that on top of Peter's habit of exclaiming that old-school expression of annoyance, "Nuts!", and calling Gwen "Gwendy" and I was... well, there was a lot of cheese apparent in some parts of the story. As a modern reader, it was a little hard to get past some of the more dated aspects.

That said, though, the plot itself still felt relevant. From what I understand, from context and Wikipedia readings, Peter begins the story broken up from Gwen, who has fled to Europe after the death of her police captain father. He was killed trying to save a child from a falling building cornice, and Gwen blamed Spider-Man. Her grief pushed her and Peter apart and led to her going overseas, and now Peter is left alone in New York with his best friend and roommate, Harry Osborn.

Peter's day is about to get pretty eventful. His Aunt May, at least, seems to be recovering well from the death of his Uncle Ben, going out on the town with Anna Watson. On his walk through the City, Peter, as Spider-Man, follows speeding cop cars to the site of a building where a man, stoned on LSD, is about to jump off. Spider-Man saves the jumper, but drugs are about to hit much closer to home. Harry, seething with jealousy over the way Mary Jane's been flirting with Peter (ostensibly to make Harry jealous), decides that LSD and pill-popping would be a great solution to his problems, a way to forget about Mary Jane.

Though Peter worries about his friend's seeming pill addiction, he's got bigger problems. Harry's father, Norman, is the Green Goblin--unknowingly. When he's Norman, his memories of being the Goblin are safely buried, but could be triggered at any time of undue stress... which would lead to him remembering that Peter Parker is Spider-Man, something Peter can't risk. Unfortunately, over the course of the next few months, Norman is about to remember, and when he does, the Goblin will rob Peter of the love of his life... and maybe even Peter's own principles.

To start with, I'd read a bit about the anti-drugs angle in this story, but I was surprised at just how strongly it was present. I will give the writers credit for knowing that they were in a position to reach many, many kids, and that they probably did so admirably. In 1973, drugs were still as big an issue as they are today, apparently. Yes, it gets a bit soapbox-y, but Spider-Man saving the jumper was admirable, and seeing Harry's spiral into schizophrenia as the result of his taking LSD was heartbreaking.

Reading this, never having had much experience with "old school" comics, I was surprised at how knowing the creators were, occasionally throwing in little metafictional notes (reminders to the reader about certain things from issues past, for one thing). I got a giggle out of the third issue, where Peter and Gwen separately philosophize about missing the other, and when we finally get back to the action, the panel notes, "And now that the longest soliloquies since Hamlet have come to an end..." It was fun to see the writers really knowing their audience, probably thinking that the young (predominantly male, I'd assume) audience reading the comics just wouldn't care about Peter Parker's romantic life. I haven't read many comics at all today, so I don't know if those little nods still exist. Somehow I get the feeling they don't, that these are charming remnants of a bygone era. For one thing, the cutesy, knowing tone is at an end by the time Peter arrives in his apartment to find Gwen's purse and a weapon of the Green Goblin's.

What a confrontation it is. What a death scene. What aftermath. I knew the outcome, of course I did, but I was holding my breath as soon as Peter swung up to the bridge to see the Goblin with an unconscious Gwen. There's so much at play here that it stunned me, and the pages immediately following Gwen's death left me sobbing.

"I saved you, honey. Don't you see?... I saved you." These are Peter's denial-ridden words when he realizes his beloved has died... and sadly, that it might have been his fault. No one will ever confirm or deny, it seems, as it's been debated in the decades since the storyline wrapped, but it might have been Peter's heroic actions that caused Gwen's death. He caught her by the ankle with his webbing, and the telltale SNAP! effect by her head seems to indicate that whiplash killed her, although the Goblin says a fall from that height would have killed anyone.

Was Peter at fault, for more reasons than one: because the Goblin knowing his real identity put Gwen in danger for associating with him, because his catching her might have killed her after all? Was he at as much fault as the Goblin? That's the question that seems to drive his downward spiral. The fifth issue chronicles Spider-Man's vengeful pursuit of the Goblin, and it's just breathtaking. That's the only way I can describe it. Even not knowing much of Spider-Man outside of these few issues, I could see just how much he'd been driven off the deep end by Gwen's death.

"'No?' Do I hear you begging, Goblin? Don't make me sick, friend--why should I show you any mercy? What mercy did you show Gwen? Answer me that, Green Goblin--ANSWER ME THAT!"

Those are Peter's words as he attacks the Goblin, tormented with grief. It's the same standard thing you see in nearly any TV show or movie that features this sort of a confrontation after the hero's loved one has died at the hands of the villain, but what astonished me is that all of the emotion is conveyed through words, not even so much the artwork. We don't see much of Peter with his mask off after the death happens. He's in the suit nearly all the time, leaving us blind to his facial expressions. A medium which can use art to show emotion chose not to, instead leaving nearly all the weight on Peter's anguished words--that was incredibly brave, and perhaps made it even more moving to me, someone who's touched by words more than anything.

After the confrontation is finished and Peter's still standing, the groundwork is seemingly laid for the future. Mary Jane is profoundly affected by the death of her good friend, and stays to comfort Peter. I think it was a wise choice to include a small snippet, after the close of the final issue, of a recently-penned Peter/Gwen story. A glimpse into one of the last nights Peter and Gwen would ever share, it's a moving meditation on regret and remembrance after loss.

"How many moments in our lives go by like that? 'We'll do it tomorrow,' we say. 'No, I don't feel like it... you go without me.' 'Maybe some other time.' But those tomorrows we take for granted... don't always come."

I don't think that many comics can claim to have made their readers think so much, to feel so deeply, as this one did. With a still-timely anti-drug message, a moral struggle for the ages, and a landmark death in the history of comics, this volume, scarcely over 100 pages, still packs a powerful punch over thirty years later. I've emerged from this reading experience with a better appreciation of the Spider-Man mythos as well as the history of comics, and for that I'm grateful. For any Spider-Man lovers or even doubters, for anyone who wants a glimpse into comic book history, see if you can find this one--if you can, it's well worth a read. Peter loves and misses you, Gwen. I think I will, too.

In Which Trai Reviews 'The House of Mirth'

The Book: The House of Mirth

The Author: Edith Wharton

How I Found It: Some time ago, I was flipping channels when I noticed the film adaptation of the novel starred Gillian Anderson and Eric Stoltz, who I loved in The X-Files and Little Women, respectively. I picked up a copy of the book the next time I was in a bookstore, and finally decided to take the jump and read it this summer.

The Review: Oh, this book. It made me think. It made me wonder. It made me feel.

As ever, I was reading as my mother and I were driving one day, and my mom, having never read the book, asked me how it was, what I thought. I had just finished the first chapter and hadn't had much time to formulate my thoughts, but I told her it made me feel lucky. It made me feel glad. We no longer live in a society where reputation is quite so important. Gossip might taint a person's reputation, but it's not quite so damaging as it was back in Wharton's time. A woman has the ability to work and choose a husband for herself, rather than going by social convention.

Lily Bart, our heroine, does not possess these freedoms. Published in 1905, it is the first of Wharton's novels to feature Old New York, and the portrait of New York society was enough to evoke the feelings I mentioned above. Lily is nearly 30, beautiful but unmarried. Each time she has gotten close to an engagement, she has either shied away or done something that necessitates the breaking off of the relationship, and this is leading to complications. Lily is part of a social circle where women and men wear fine clothes, gamble, and flirt outrageously, even if they're married. Living with her stern Aunt Julia, Lily is in desperate need of money to support these habits, and marriage is looking like her only way out of debt.

It's a shame that her marriage prospects are so confused. There's Percy Gryce, a stuffy bore who collects Americana. There's the vulgar Rosedale, a Jewish man looking for entry into high society (more on Wharton's portrayal of him later). And above everyone is Lawrence Selden, an old acquaintance of Lily's. A chance meeting at a train station renews their friendship, and throughout the novel, Lily and Selden are repeatedly drawn together only to be pulled apart, whether by their own feelings or by the scandals that surround them.

For no matter where she goes, scandal seems to follow Lily. She is getting a bit too old to be on the marriage market still, for one thing. For another, she is beautiful. For a third, she's naive enough to not realize the danger in inadvertently ending up alone with other women's husbands. Circumstances, both personal and financial, continue to worsen, and no matter how hard Lily fights, she might end up being her own downfall.

I love Edith Wharton. I think I came to this conclusion after the third chapter. The things I love about writing, whether it's a novel or film/television, are characterization and dialogue. The plot and descriptions can be nonexistent for me as long as there's introspection, as long as there's believable interactions between the characters. This book fortunately had a plot and descriptions as well as dialogue and characterization, and it was just a truly affecting experience for me.

Lily, for one thing, was so easy to relate to that it stunned me. As a college student with little money (although, unlike her, I have the means to earn it), I felt for her. This passage is the one that struck me, the one that converted me to a Wharton lover:

But of course she had lost—she who needed every penny, while Bertha Dorset, whose husband showered money on her, must have pocketed at least five hundred, and Judy Trenor, who could have afforded to lose a thousand a night, had left the table clutching such a heap of bills that she had been unable to shake hands with her guests when they bade her good night.

A world in which such things could be seemed a miserable place to Lily Bart; but then she had never been able to understand the laws of a universe which was so ready to leave her out of its calculations.

She began to undress without ringing for her maid, whom she had sent to bed. She had been long enough in bondage to other people's pleasure to be considerate of those who depended on hers, and in her bitter moods it sometimes struck her that she and her maid were in the same position, except that the latter received her wages more regularly. (24-5)

Who among us hasn't felt that sense of bad luck, of the universe being utterly against us (especially, I should say, in today's job market)? That last line, about she and her maid, of two different social classes entirely, being in the exact same financial position, had me thinking for days. It was how absorbed I became in Lily's struggles, how much I felt for her, that really made me love the book at first.

Then--oh, and then. Lily and Selden are now one of my favorite relationships in all of literature. I practically held my breath during every encounter of theirs, waiting to see what would happen next, who would speak, what they would say to each other. Their relationship was beautifully drawn. Selden might criticize Lily and her set, but he does it to try and better her, to make her realize the painful truths of her society. Lily, for her part, does the same. When he criticizes the people she chooses to associate with, she rightly points out that he moves in the same circles himself, spends a lot of time in the element he so loves to criticize. Every encounter they have is emotionally charged and, surprisingly, romantic, such as this one:

But suddenly she turned on him with a kind of vehemence. "Why do you do this to me?" she cried. "Why do you make the things I have chosen seem hateful to me, if you have nothing to give me instead?"

The words roused Selden from the musing fit into which he had fallen. He himself did not know why he had led their talk along such lines; it was the last use he would have imagined himself making of an afternoon's solitude with Miss Bart. But it was one of those moments when neither seemed to speak deliberately, when an indwelling voice in each called to the other across unsounded depths of feeling.

"No, I have nothing to give you instead," he said, sitting up and turning so that he faced her. "If I had, it should be yours, you know." (63)

Lily's complicated relationships with the men in her life, and how those relationships influence her interactions in society, were built up slowly, satisfyingly. Admittedly, the portrayal of Rosedale is problematic these days (as with many classics, the anti-Semitism is a product of the times, but no less cringeworthy because of that). But even if he is painted slightly as the villain, Rosedale does genuinely care for Lily. So does Selden. So do, arguably, the married men Lily inadvertently finds herself with.

The thing I loved the most about the characters was that they all seemed believable. All of them were people I could imagine still existing today. Lily's financial struggles were all too easy to relate to. Rosedale, the social climber, surely has modern day compatriots. And most easy to imagine of all is Bertha Dorset, the master manipulator, both of her husband and of the society gossip mill. Bertha was villainous in the worst way: she made herself, even with all her indiscretions, look innocent while she crucified others around her. Actually, as I read the book, it struck me how easily the story could have been modernized and placed in, say, a high school. There were certain things that reminded me of, say, Josh Schwartz's series The OC and Gossip Girl. Given the glamorous settings and rich teens in both series (and the nods to The Age of Innocence in an episode of Gossip Girl), I had to wonder if Schwartz is a Wharton fan. It wouldn't surprise me.

The plot, I'd say, isn't so much a plot as it is an examination of Lily's society and its social obligations, all of which involve her in some way. I agree with the assessment that the New York Times gave on the novel's original publication: "... the discriminating reader who has completed the whole story in a protracted sitting or two must rise from it with the conviction that there are no parts of it which do not properly and essentially belong to the whole." Thinking back on the plot myself, I can't think of a single episode which could have been spared, and I enjoyed every part of it.

Having seen the film adaptation, I was left with the same feelings that I had as I came out of the recent Jane Eyre--it was a good enough adaptation, but certain things I loved about both novels will just never come across on screen. For Jane Eyre, it's the sheer joy of reading "Reader, I married him." for the first time. For The House of Mirth, it's those vivid, detailed descriptions of Wharton's--of the places, sure, but more important, of her characters' thoughts and actions. Selden's nigh-scientific observations of Lily as he tries to master his feelings, Lily's constant musings on her place in society... it's just not something suited for film. And that said, that very point the New York Times made about how integral each portion of the plot is? That's a drawback, when you have to fit an entire book into two hours.

The cast did an admirable job, for the most part. I had a bit of difficulty believing Anderson (Lily) and Stoltz (Selden) together at first--Anderson was a mite too loud and Stoltz a bit too quiet--but by "Ah, love me, love me--but don't tell me so!", I started to see it. My favorite scene between them was undoubtedly the confrontation at the Emporium Hotel, when Selden begs her to leave and save herself from scandal. It was well-played to the point of being electrifying; the anger as well as the depth of their feelings for each other was just palpable.

Laura Linney (Bertha Dorset) and Anthony LaPaglia (Rosedale) really shined. I've been a fan of Laura Linney for some time but had never seen her in a real villainous role, and she played it off well here. LaPaglia made Rosedale more sympathetic and less conniving, I felt; it was very believable and tender towards the end when you see his genuine concern for Lily. The only one who hit some false notes, in my eyes, was Dan Akroyd; I think he was too much of a comedic actor for the role. I cringed my way through most of the scene where he corners Lily; it was one of the only things I felt was poorly done.

There were some things that were utterly baffling--the very obvious "this is symbolism!" decision to have Lily in a red dress, as opposed to the muted shades of the other women, when she attends the opera with Trenor and Rosedale; the really odd decision to make Gerty Farish and Grace Stepney into a composite character--but it did a decent job at squeezing the entire plot in, and its only fault was, well, that it wasn't the book. Still, it's worth checking out.

The House of Mirth has become one of my favorite reads of the past few years, and I'd recommend it in a heartbeat. Even 106 years later, it still manages to be relevant, relateable, and moving. I can't wait to read more of Edith Wharton, although I'm sure I'll return to this one over the years, as well!

In Which Trai Reviews 'I Have Found It (Kandukondain Kandukondain)'

Early this year, I announced my intention to take part in the Austenprose Sense and Sensibility Bicentenary Challenge. Published in 1811, Sense and Sensibility is my favorite Austen, but it's also one that polarizes fans due to the resolution of the romantic subplots. I happen to love the ending, and I was so pleased that Laurel Ann decided to put together a challenge that would allow me to explore sequels, modernizations, and adaptations of my favorite Austen. This is my first completed item (yay!).

To start with, I picked the film I Have Found It (aka Kandukondain Kandukondain), which was available through my local library. I'd been meaning to see it for years, but never had a real impetus until now. My research (and the back of the DVD case) tells me that this isn't, as I was led to believe, a Bollywood film, but rather a "Kollywood" film, as it's in the Tamil language rather than Hindi. I don't know much about the distinctions, but I'm given to understand that both the language and the style of music are different. Whatever the case, I greatly enjoyed this bright, colorful musical modernization of Sense and Sensibility.

Sowmya (Tabu) and Meenakshi (Aishwarya Rai) are two wealthy sisters, living in luxury and only wanting for men they can marry. Sowmya's previous suitor committed suicide on a trip to the United States, which has led to potential suitors believing she's jinxed. Meenakshi, meanwhile, doesn't understand how Sowmya can stand for a marriage their mother would arrange; she longs for a man who will come for her like a storm, passionate and poetic. Their grandfather's health is failing and they don't have much time to lose--fortunately, three men soon enter their lives as potential suitors.

For Sowmya, there is Manohar (Ajith), a young filmmaker recently returned from studying in the United States. He is attracted to Sowmya after a memorable misunderstanding, and eventually swears that he will return and marry her after he has completed his first film. Meenakshi, meanwhile, attracts two men: Commando Major Bala (Mammootty), an embittered, drunken ex-soldier who lost part of one leg in a war, and Srikanth (Abbas), a young businessman who can quote the poetry Meenakshi loves so much. Even as both girls try to navigate these romances, a reversal of fortune leaves them nearly bankrupt, leaving them with no choice but to seek employment--and perhaps to leave any chance of romance behind.

To start with, let me say that I'd never seen a Bollywood or Kollywood film before. I've seen Slumdog Millionaire, but that was a fairly Americanized film and the only dancing and singing that I can remember came at the end, as a sort of homage. I was expecting singing and dancing here, but not so much of it as there was, and nothing so elaborate--at first, I was much like Patrick Dempsey's character in Enchanted ("He's singing? He knows the song, too? But I've never heard this song before!"). When I got over that, I ended up really enjoying the musical numbers. The two best, I felt, were the title song (a duet between Meenakshi and Srikanth) and, surprisingly, a song sung by Manohar to express his feelings to Sowmya. I was really pleased with the slight changes to the modern "Edward" character--Manohar isn't shy and reserved, just young and inexperienced when it comes to his filmmaking, and perhaps not quite sure how he can romance Sowmya.

I actually really enjoyed the characters and the setting/time period update in general. I was surprised at how well certain elements of the story still worked, and how easy it was to translate the setting to India. It was nice to see, in a modern adaptation of the story, the girls getting gainful employment (Sowmya is a skilled computer programmer; Meenakshi is, like Marianne before her, a singer). Instead of a threat of disinheritance from his aunt, the struggle that takes Srikanth away is the threat of his company's financial collapse. Even the scene where the older brother and his wife (John Dashwood and Fanny, in the original) argue over what they should pay the girls is there. I was truly surprised at how well the story still worked; it was such fun to see all the recognizable scenes, just with little tweaks.

Perhaps my favorite of the characters was Bala. It might be because I'm a Brandon fan to begin with, but he made the movie for me. His and Meenakshi's relationship grows into something tender and caring, but even before then, it's a pleasure to watch how much he cares for her. He comes up with a clever ploy to find out Srikanth's address just so she can see him; he even holds the equivalent of the Delaford picnic on his orchid farm. The scenes where he interacted with his uncle were alternately funny and touching. Mammootty's performance was funny and sweet, and I'd rank him with Alan Rickman as a charming, lovable "Brandon." (Watch for the scene near the end in the record store and tell me that does not make you go "awww!")

The other performances were spot-on, I felt. Aishwarya Rai gets the bulk of the movie, and I believed her "Marianne"-ness right off--that opening scene in the pool when she talks about the type of man she wants, that's it, right there. Tabu gave a great performance as the reserved Sowmya; a lot of her emotion was conveyed in her eyes or her face, not an easy task. I already mentioned how much I liked the Manohar character; Ajith made him the right mix of inexperience and assurance, especially during the scenes where he struggles to get his movie made. Lastly, Abbas' performance as the "Willoughby" of the story was well-played, and he was more sympathetic here than in the original story. I actually felt for him somewhat during the equivalent of the "Good God, Willoughby!" scene.

Though I started the film with reservations, I ended up really loving it: the opportunity to see the cultural differences between India and the United States, to see how well the story would work in another setting, and most of all, to see how the characters would translate from the 1800s to 2000. I'm pleased to say that the film was well-done, funny, and even touching at times, and I wouldn't hesitate to watch it again. At two and a half-hours, with many of the musical numbers lasting at least four or five minutes, I'd say, it does feel slightly overlong, but I understand that this is the norm for Indian films. With this film in mind, I'm eager to check out its successor, Bride and Prejudice, which I've heard about for so long. For anyone who's a Sense and Sensibility fan or even just curious about Kollywood films, check this one out! It was such an interesting experience and I loved it.

In Which Trai Reviews 'So Much Closer'

** This review will contain minor spoilers. **

The Book: So Much Closer

The Author: Susane Colasanti

How I Found It: I read another of Colasanti's novels last year. When I heard about this one coming out, the premise sounded interesting enough that I put it on my list. Thanks to my local library!

The Review: Brooke Greene knows that Scott Abrams is the love of her life. She has what she calls the Knowing, absolute convictions about her future liable to come over her on the cusp of life-changing moments. At the end of their junior year of high school, she's finally worked up the courage to tell him she thinks they're meant to be together... only for him to tell her he's moving to New York City before she can say much of anything.

Brooke has been slacking academically for quite some time, not feeling challenged enough by her high school's curriculum. So when she lies to her mother and says she wants to move to New York for a better education, she's telling the truth. Partly. Following Scott and spending her senior year in NYC might be her last chance to be with him, and she'll go even if it means having to live with her estranged father.

Brooke soon realizes that New York might not be everything she thought it was. Her classes are more challenging, which may or may not be a good thing. Her friends at home aren't as supportive of her decision as she thought. Her father isn't around like he said he'd be. Worst of all, it looks like Scott is taken. Brooke might have changed her entire life around because of a boy, but as she struggles to make Scott realize that they're meant to be together, she realizes that the person who really matters is herself.

I was in the middle of the road on Something Like Fate, the other novel of Colasanti's I read, and when I decide to give a middling author another try, I usually hope for something better. I'm sad to say that I felt pretty much the same about So Much Closer--that there were some things I really liked and some things I really didn't. The more I think about it, I think the bad outweighed the good for me. I might give Colasanti one more shot--some of her premises sound interesting, I have to say--but I'm not sure if she's the author for me. I might just end up sticking with Sarah Dessen.

To start with, Colasanti improved on something I wasn't too keen on when I read Something Like Fate. She still used teenage colloquialisms in the characters' speech, which is great, but cut down on them in the narration. There's still the occasional "and she was like," "and he goes," etc., instead of "and he said" or similar conventions, but it's not nearly as grating as it was in Fate. One professional review I saw of a Colasanti novel said that usages like the above mark the demise of modern literature, but I disagree. As an English major, I'm highly critical of the use of colloquialisms, but Colasanti has no great pretensions towards literature here; she's merely trying to speak to teens today. I'm barely out of my teens and, yes, in informal settings, among my friends, I'm liable to speak in just the way the story is narrated. If I'm remembering right, Colasanti was once a high school teacher, and it does show--she captures current teenage speech patterns perfectly.

I think, however, that Colasanti being a teacher ended up doing this novel a disservice. I was more than a bit blindsided by what seemed like public education reform politics that snuck in halfway through the book. The reason for Brooke's lack of motivation is revealed to be the result of her beyond genius IQ, which makes it hard for her to feel challenged in school, and which has resulted in her less-than-stellar grades. When a teacher confronts her about the problem, Brooke gives this speech: "Schools teach to the test and then they make these sweeping judgments about students based on their answers to a few pointless questions... They're doing it wrong. How is force-feeding us stuff we don't care about making us smarter? And why should I be forced to become part of something I don't believe in?" (112)

There's more to the speech, but when I read that, it was a ... what? moment for me. To be quite honest, I picked a YA book to read because it was something fluffy, not to suddenly be confronted with a vaguely political rant. And even if Brooke is a genius, I wasn't quite sure the speech rang true to the concerns of today's teens. I saw some truth in it, but I don't know if the younger readers Colasanti is presumably courting are going to care. Brooke was so arrogant about her superiority to the system that I really didn't, to be honest. I agreed more with the speech her friend made a few pages later: "You want to hear something simple? You could have had straight As with like no effort. You could have been valedictorian. But you threw it all away, and for what? To make some kind of political statement no one's listening to? To prove some point no one's benefiting from? Wake up, Brooke. No one cares." (117)

It's definitely harsh, but in the end, no one really does seem to care. Brooke's thinking outside the box helps when she peer tutors a fellow student, John, who's dysgraphic, but it doesn't seem to figure much else in the long run. Even the passion she ultimately decides on pursuing has nothing to do with educational reform. That speech seemed incredibly jarring and too close to a soapbox moment for me to feel comfortable with it, and it definitely threw me out of the book.

The teen characters were believable, even if I did have difficulty sympathizing with Brooke, who just came off like she was throwing her life away. I could believe that a teenager would be impulsive enough to, given the opportunity, move to another state just for a boy (hey, if it worked on Felicity, why not here?). Scott, though, didn't have much depth besides one solitary family issue, which did seem to be the point in the end. I was much more intrigued by Brooke's new friends, Sadie and John. Sadie was funny and sweet, a good counterpoint to Brooke's friends back home. John in particular was well-done, I felt, because he reminded me very much of one of my guy friends in high school. If I can look at a character and pinpoint someone like that I've seen in real life, I count them as a success.

The pacing felt off towards the end; I think certain conclusions were rushed for the sake of the word count Colasanti probably had to work within. I kept looking at the book going, "... but there are only thirty pages left? There's so much to resolve still!" And therein lies the rub. You see, Brooke says at one point that she doesn't like novels where all the loose ends are tied up with a bow. And... they were here, sorry to say. The easiest possible resolution seems tacked on just to wrap up the storyline. Brooke's mom apologizes for making her feel devalued. Brooke's dad lays down the ground rules they'd been lacking. The romantic relationships work out as well as they could have given the revelations in the text. Brooke's old friends drift away (and that's it) and her new ones will presumably be in her life for as long as she's in New York. Really? It's all just a bit too perfect, especially for the life of a high school senior. I was only there two years ago--I know.

The novel's drawbacks (a strong anti-public education bent, a verging-on-unlikable protagonist) outweighed the novel's strengths (believable diction and some interesting characters) by a fair amount. I might recommend it to teens who, like Brooke, feel directionless, but even that's with reservations. If you're a die-hard fan of Colasanti's, or want something featuring characters a bit older than her other novels, go for it. If not, I think this one's a skip.

In Which Trai Reviews 'Heist Society'

The Book: Heist Society (Heist Society, Book 1)

The Author: Ally Carter

How I Found It: This post piqued my interest.

The Review: Katarina 'Kat' Bishop has walked away from the life she had as a child and straight into Colgan School, a prestigious boarding school. Kat is a skilled con artist and art thief, thanks to her father and makeshift family's teachings, but now she just wants to be normal. When she gets framed and expelled for an elaborate prank involving the headmaster's Porsche, her chances at a normal life abruptly slip away.

As she packs her bags and leaves Colgan, she's met by a fellow member of the con artist clan: Hale, a boy her age who she might have feelings for. Hale has a message for her: her father might have stolen a few priceless paintings from mobster Arturo Taccone, and Taccone is demanding that he give them back. Bobby Bishop swears he didn't take them, but that makes no difference to Taccone. He gives Kat two weeks to find and retrieve the stolen paintings, and it's up to Kat to assemble a team of teen con artists like her to steal the paintings back from one of the most secure museums in the world, a place that's never before been robbed.

This book is paced like a speeding freight train, let me start by saying that. Carter certainly has skill. I started reading the book shortly before a car trip that lasted maybe three hours, and the only time my eReader left my hand was when we stopped at a convenience store for food. I was immediately drawn into Kat's plans to assemble the team and to figure out just why the paintings were so valuable to Taccone. Maybe a team of teenage con artists breaking into the most secure museum in the world is unbelievable, but damn if it's not compelling to read about. Sure, it's a bit standard at times--the constant focus on Kat and how she walked away from "the life" has been done in almost every con artist story--but I didn't feel bored even by the cliched parts.

Oddly, I felt the book started to drag as the gang got closer to pulling off the con. I started to lose interest in the group's dynamic and in what they had to do. I got interested again once the heist hit (and the heist itself was brilliantly done), but I think the preparations section could have been trimmed down. That was the only part of the book that I felt was too slow; the other sections were right on.

One element of the book I questioned was the inclusion of a love triangle between Kat, Hale, and a new team member named Nick. Love triangles are a staple of young adult literature these days (Twilight, The Hunger Games, The Vampire Diaries, etc.) and I'd like to see a YA novel without one, to be honest! I know it's an essential ingredient of a romantic plot, but it's usually painfully obvious how the resolution will shake out, and that was what I felt here. I would have been more intrigued by Kat, say, having walked away from an established relationship and having to build back the trust of her former boyfriend, instead of a love triangle. I hold out hope for the brave YA author who would choose not to include a love triangle, although I doubt it would happen any time soon.

I liked that Carter included names of common cons, often in dialogue, without stopping to explain at length what each one was. Usually the names ("Smokey the Bear", "Mary Poppins", etc.) made it obvious what the method would be, but Carter still could have underestimated her readers and explained each and every reference. She doesn't, instead letting the references fly fast and free in snappy, fun dialogue. I ended up looking up some of the cons myself when I was done to see if they were real (and yep, "dog in a bar," one of the many mentioned, is apparently a common street con). It's rare that a YA book has me looking something up, given that I'm past the age range and hopefully know a bit more than the average YA reader, so I considered this one a success when it came to getting me thinking!

I felt some things should have been tightened up or expanded upon, but since this is the first novel in a series, I gave most things a pass, since future books can improve on a first novel's faults (and, looking at reviews for the second book, I see that Carter made the effort to). There were a few too many times where Carter ended a scene on a cliffhanger involving a person walking into a room and saying either Kat's name or the "last thing a person expected them to say"--things of that nature. I wished for a bit more variety in the scene breaks and chapter closings because of that. And I never really got all that emotionally invested in the characters themselves--I found their methods fascinating, but didn't know a lot about them as people. Even Taccone was a bit of a stock villain. Apparently, the sequel improves upon this, and I look forward to seeing what comes next for Kat and her merry band of thieves.

I'd definitely recommend this one to teen and adult fans of heist movies like Ocean's Eleven or TV shows like USA Network's White Collar (indeed, my love for the latter is what made me pay attention when I heard about a YA novel involving an art heist). These teen thieves will have you on the edge of your seat!