This one is a choice for my reading challenge that’s a new-to-me classic. Not only had I never picked up one of his books before, but I’d been saying his name wrong all these years. Thank you narrator David Horovitch for setting me straight on that one. I will say, it sounds a lot better in real life than the version that was in my head.
Fathers and Sons was released in 1862 and was a bit controversial in Russia at the time, though it would gain great acclaim from other authors like Henry James for its importance as a reflection of the changes affecting Russian society at the time. In the novel, young nihilist Bazarov, a student with a particular affinity for science and an aversion to authority and tradition, goes to visit the family of his schoolmate, Arkady. The young man experiences particular friction with the uncle of his friend, a very traditional member of polite society. He also experiences friction upon returning to his own home to visit his parents. Turgenev set the novel in 1859 just prior to the emancipation of the serfs that would come in 1861. This is an important detail, as this topic presents a defining difference in the competing ideologies held by the two sets of fathers and sons. Turgenev presents these familial relationships in a way that echoes the competing ideologies of the Russian political landscape. Through the introduction of potential love interests, he also manages to weave in the politics of gender and relationships.
I won’t say this is an enjoyable read, but I can see why it’s considered a great classic novel due to the afore-mentioned socio-political aspects, as well as a pretty deep psychological streak. Honestly, the characters are extremely frustrating, especially Bazarov. I appreciate this radicalism, as progress has always been driven by the radicals with big ideas. However, his good ideas were clouded over by his arrogance, stubbornness, and complete inability to be open to other ideas. He was blind to his own prejudices, which seems to fly in the face of his own brand of progressiveness. I do feel that Turgenev effectively presented these separate dichotomies as well as the evolution of progress. It’s important to analyze how families navigated the changing political landscape. It was actually the older generation in the novel that seemed the most open to change, with the exception of Arkady who existed as sort of a mediator between the two opposing parties. He wasn’t quite as radical as his friend Bazarov, and this worked in his favor. He was still capable of critical thinking.
Frankly, today I feel like this is an important lesson we need in the United States. We are an absolute mess, and political differences between parents and children are driving intense divides, and many of the issues at play surround class structure, race relations, gender, and other issues also relevant in Turgenev’s time. These issues will always be relevant. However, it seems that the United States is going the opposite direction, away from progress and back toward more traditional ideas not very conducive to human rights. The parents seem to be more radical and the children more apathetic, which hopefully will change once they see the harm their parents ideas are doing to the political landscape.
The novel takes an interesting and very abrupt turn to the dramatic and utterly depressing near the end, which I found jarring and I wasn’t quite sure what to think. Considering my conflicting feelings about the characters, it was difficult to come to turns with these abrupt changes. It’s difficult to explain in further detail without spoiling the novel, so I’ll leave it at that. Overall, I would give this one 4 stars. I can’t say I enjoyed it but I definitely understand the novel’s importance that cements its place as one of the great volumes in world literature.
First published February 23, 1862 by Grachev & Co., Moscow, Russia. Edition published January 1, 2009 by Audible Audio. ASIN B0DM48N4SK. Runtime 9 hrs. 16 mins. Read by David Horovitch.
Eliza Marino is a teen who deals with constant threats from external forces. Having survived a hurricane five years previous that threatened to destroy the home on Long Beach Island in New Jersey that she adores, she now spends her days and nights trying to protect it. She fights not just against the ravaging effects of climate change but against the tide of developers who seek to transform the local protected habitats for their own selfish gain. When Eliza meets Milo Harris, the wealthy son of a rich tourist who has come for the summer, she reluctantly agrees to give him surfing lessons despite going against everything he stands for. As the two grow closer over the course of the summer, Eliza finds herself torn between the life she knows she’s meant to live and the boy whose mere presence threatens to destroy it. 
Hailing from a highly respected family with deep military roots, Frankie McGrath grew up believing in heroism, having long admired the family pictures of servicemen on her father’s “wall of heroes.” When her brother, Finley, signs up as a helicopter pilot for the Vietnam War, Frankie chooses to follow him in the only capacity in which she can, as an army nurse stationed in the thick of the turmoil. Though completely ill-prepared, Frankie arrives in Vietnam during a mass casualty event, finding herself thrust into a trial-by-fire situation in which she must endure the most horrifying tests of her courage and endurance or crumple into a heap.
The Island of Dr. Moreau was published by H.G. Wells in 1896. At the time, it wasn’t exactly welcomed by many sectors of society, many finding it blasphemous and too horrendous for print. (Wonder how those people would have felt about The Human Centipede.) In my words, that’s called being “ahead of your time.” This story of an eccentric doctor who has hidden out on his private island in order to enact some horrific experiments on all forms of living creature, including humans, was certainly shocking in its day, but he certainly wasn’t the first to question the ethical boundaries of scientific research. The people pissed about this one had been pissed for the whole of the 19th century at that point, so nobody really cared what they thought. 
Forgive me if I quickly blaze through my next few reviews. I’ve been moving lately and life has been so chaotic. I find myself at the final hour trying to finish my books and reviews for my reading challenge this year. I’m going to make it, but my reviews might not be quite as well-thought-out as I usually attempt. 
In my quest to check off more titles on my reading challenge at the last minute, I’ll add this one for my alliterative author pick. It was also the book club selection for Read Between the Wines this month, chosen by me. I did a bit of double dipping, as you can see. Having been feeling a lot of weight in the things I was reading and experiencing, I decided a nice YA title would be a good choice. It wasn’t exactly light, but I certainly could have chosen worse. And a good fantasy is able to pull me out of the overwhelming nature of reality. 
I hope you came here for unpopular opinions, because I’m about to throw one at you. I’m not a big Mark Twain fan. I know, I know, but hear me out… It’s not his ideas. I love the concept of his books. He was ahead of his time, and I think satire is a very effective tool as a force for change. Humor has healing properties, and writers like Mark Twain were positively revolutionary in the world of literature. I value his books and his ideas very much. I just don’t care for his writing style and didn’t exactly enjoy reading his work. I’m sorry, Mark. Please don’t haunt me. Hannibal really isn’t that far from here. 
Yes, this will be an actual book review. While my last two reviews were stark reminders of how truly FORKED the United States is, this book is like basking in the warmth of the sun on a sandy beach with a margarita in hand and no worries in your head. In case you are in need of a respite from the perils of the world, look no further than this charming contemporary romance.
This is the second book that it makes me sad to read in the era of Donald Trump’s second reign of terror. But… this time, I’m going to take a different tone. Less “burn it to the ground” and more “let’s start rebuilding.” I’ve spent the last 24 hours reflecting on this book. I loved The House on the Cerulean Sea. This whole series is full of wonderful and quirky characters who I desperately wish I could know in real life. It’s a celebration of the weird and wonderful, and it’s a call for unity in the face of division. Honestly, as a review portion I’m just going to say I adore this book, the follow-up to House on the Cerulean Sea. Everything, just everything, is sweet, profound, beautiful, heartwarming, and perfect. I can not pick a favorite character, especially amongst the children because they are amazing. And Daniel Henning, the narrator, I’m speechless. Give the man an award. Give him ALL the money. There you go, there’s your review. Now the rest is going to be another one of my essays because I’ve got a lot of things to say lately.
It makes me tremendously sad to review this book at the moment. Here we have yet another incredible work of literature that celebrates those women throughout history who toiled and fought for the respect they should be given only to be time and time again weighed down by the prejudices of men. And I’m reviewing it at a time in which more than half of my countrymen and women have once again turned our country over to the hands of a cruel, sexist, racist imbecile who only emboldens those with old antiquated ideas of women’s subservience to men. As we speak there’s some ignorant sociopath making jokes about ownership of women’s bodies based solely on the presence of the tiny penis in his trousers. Who am I kidding? There are millions of these ignorant trolls and they feel validated, vindicated, and invincible. Out of the shadows they slink to stand in the light as they once did and they laugh at those who fear for the future of their civil liberties and sense of safety. 
A Librarian and Her Books 