a round-up of notes

i've gotten a bit behind in my letters and i apologize. but to catch up, i'm going to do quick notes to the authors. . . .

from louis may alcott's beloved classic little women geraldine brooks has taken the character of the absent father, march, who has gone off to war leaving his wife and daughters. riveting and elegant as it is meticulously researched, march is an extraordinary novel woven out of the lord of american history.

dear geraldine brooks,

i swoon. i weep. i wasn't prepared. march is one of the most superior historical fiction novels i've ever read. and it's part of another brilliant writer's literary canon. i enjoyed little women but you have given louis may alcott's story such depth, tenderness, and heart in a most unexpected way. i wanted to hug you as i read the last word. and say, thank you. i wait in anticipation of your next literary venture.

dutifully yours,

a lone reader

standing on the fringes of life offers a unique perspective. but there comes a time to see what it looks like from the dance floor. this haunting novel about the dilemma of passivity verses passion.

dear stephen chbosky,

your debut is tragically lovely. this book means more to my soul than any other young adult novel i've read (re-read). and i didn't read it as a teen. charlie is so tender and sweet, with his own demons that given him a powerful fierceness. i ached for him as i re-read his letters, his life. i wish i had been smart enough to send letters into the abyss. like letters in a bottle. sometimes, we just need to know the words are on paper. that they are alive. that we are alive. there is a safe and comforting feeling i get knowing this slim book is on my shelf. i admire all your characters. sam, patrick, brad, and bill. how i wish i had a bill for myself, even now. 

your novel has broken my heart into pieces and made me feel. please write more books.

dutifully yours,

a lone reader

once the toast of good society in victoria's england, the conjurer edward moon no longer inspires the awe that he did in earlier times. despite having previously unraveled more than sixty perplexing criminal puzzles, his is washed up. still, each night he returns to the stage to amaze his devoted, aided by his partner, the somnambulist. but even the brilliant and strange can be stumped by a crime so intricate and detailed. . . .

dear jonathan barnes,

i have a thing for zombies. and before you interrupt, let me say that i have a wide definition of this category. and the somnambulist sneaks its way in. the somnambulist stole the book. every scene belongs to him.

this is a creepy tale and your setting is perfectly rendered. i could see the dark nights and creepiness lurking in the alleys. i was with you for most of the story. . . but love, love, love, and love plot line was a bit much. you had some fantastic twists to your story. like when a mysterious woman reveals who she is. or when the narrator's unveiled. but as the clues came together and the resolution built, i faltered. i was lost in the ending. maybe you'll better next time?

dutifully yours,

a lone reader

in an unnamed city charles unwin wishes only to escape his good fortune. unwin is inexplicably promoted to detective, a rank for which he lacks both the skills and stomach, when the detective he works for disappears.

dear jedediah berry,

you had me at your opening line. i was in, and lusting for each new sentence. then you lost me around chapter 14. you got a little too carried away and i wasn't prepared to follow. i witnessed it all spin out of control. but i was a calm observer, not actually caught up in the spin. you tried to pull it back together for the end, but it was enough. you, however, show the courage and conviction that it takes to be one of the author's readers will remember. so don't frown. try again. i'll be here, willing to give you another shot.

dutifully yours,

a lone reader