Oliver Twist

"The honest gentlemen held the curtain in his hand, and looked on for a minute or so, in silence.  Whilst he was watching the patient thus, the younger lady glided softly past, and seating herself in a chair by the bedside, gathered Oliver's hair from his face.  As she stooped over him, her tears fell upon his forehead.  The boy stirred and smiled in his sleep, as though these marks of pity and compassion had awakened some pleasant dream of a love and affection he had never known.  Thus, a strain of gentle music, or the rippling of water in a silent place, or the odour of a flower, or the mention of a familiar word, will call up sudden dim remembrances of  scenes that never were, in this life; which vanish like a breath; which some brief memory of a happier existence, long gone by, would seem to have awakened; which no voluntary exertion of the mind can ever recall."
                                                               Charles Dickens (Chapter 30 in Oliver Twist).

Does that make you want to cry?  I did.  Of course, I had twenty nine chapters to build up to this beautiful scene, so when Rose laid eyes on Oliver for the first time her compassion for him was powerfully overwhelming.
I have heard it said that Dickens was an angry man, who strafed the world with his satirical novels,  poking and parodying those he felt the greatest contempt for.  I disagree (partly).   I think that Charles Dickens was a great student of human nature, with a quick and brilliant intelligence that was elaborate, prolific and that his novels are a wonderful gift from a great man who could see, not only the most ugliest of human nature but the purest beauty of it as well.   I can appreciate the goodness more because the badness has been thoroughly shown to me beforehand.  Not only is the language beautiful,  the characters are unique as well, and every feeling while reading this novel is felt fully, humour, horror, fear, compassion, relief, you will have your full measure (with a heart filled to bursting!), and get to have the genuine Dickens experience. 

Sleeping Murder

This is by far my favorite Miss Marple mystery.  Boo to the BBC for cocking it up.   I mean, really!  What was wrong with the original?  Nothing!
Okay, I'm kidding (a little bit!).  I feel that there is more here than just a murder mystery.  This, to me, is a nod at a bygone era (just passing by moments before), making all of the events a very nostalgic trip down not just the memory lane of our protagonist but of Agatha Christie's as well.  In my mind's eye I can see all of the ghosts and it made this book, for me, extremely beautiful as well as a very emotionally powerful story.

Nemesis

The last book that Agatha Christie wrote... just as good as the first!  Lot's of misdirection, suspects, and mysterious behaviour which only makes sense at the very end (as it should).  I discovered early on in my readings of a Christie murder mystery that it's best not to try and figure out who did it, but just to enjoy the journey.  Not only is this great detective fiction, but a blast from the past.  A visit to an era that I never lived in but feel that I would have enjoyed,  genteel people living in a simpler time.  When things just seemed to be tidier, though of course, people are still just folks with hopes, dreams, and the baser wishes and needs, sex, jealousy, dirty secrets and a grisly murder or two...  Every era has them, but it's lovely to visit Agatha Christie's, murders and all.

The Secret Adversary

For a second novel, it is really quite good!  But then, it seems that whatever Agatha Christie put her hand to came off rather beautifully.   I have really enjoyed reading her autobiography, and I can appreciate what she wrote even more now after reading about her life and what she thought important to write about.   A little spy/mystery/romance goes quite a long way, and Christie wrote it in such an easy way, that it is just effortlessly and satisfactorily gobbled up in one afternoon (to be consumed with cups of Earl Grey tea naturally).

A Time of Changes

There are a few things I am particularly fond of in a novel, a story told in the first person, or one told in diary form.   One of my most favorite storylines are about worlds that have a colony of descendants from Earth, so we have a combination of some of my favorite things.  I love to see how these transplanted humans get along, what way they are different from good old Earthlings, and what they have done to possibly pervert what used to be the norm.  I also like a lot of background information, though you can't possibly put that in one book, especially one of this size, so ultimately I felt that there was a little something missing in this novel, but I try not to let that bias me, because not everyone can be as prolific about their post-earth world like say... Anne McCaffrey. 
There were lots of references to Earth (so apparently this story is not too far in the future).  The story rolled along at a steady clip, kept me engaged but while I'm thinking about it, there was one character, who was a catalyst to the crisis in the story, who just disappeared at a certain point and I didn't see anything about him again.
It was a baffling but interesting romp, in a not too strange world with a uniquely formed culture.  It won the Nebula so there's got to be a good reason for that right?

R is For Rocket

I have been encouraged from time to time to write my own book.  I don't understand why.  I love to read books, I love buying books (especially hunting for treasure in the second-hand book stores), I love talking about books (without giving away too much unless you have read it and then the discussions can be very enthusiastic).   I will gleefully be as geeky as I can when it comes to anything about books (coffee mugs, t-shirts etc.,).  I just can't write them,  and this is why. 
I have no imagination.  How I would come up with a story or a plot or an adventure is beyond my ambitions.  The only thing I know about is my own life, and believe me, that would be a miserable thing to write or read about.  Why write when there is already so many amazing books out there?  I would rather spend my time reading them than writing them.
I'm grateful not everyone feels the same way as I do, and of course, ever so grateful that I grew up in an age that has so many great writers.  I don't know how many ways I can say this but I am just so glad that Ray Bradbury was born.  What an immense gift to the world, and to myself.  He takes me to so many different places, with so many different problems, each an experience so different from the last and all flavored with his enthusiasm and joy for the written word. Out in space, where he isn't limited to what might happen here on Earth, the ideas are just unfathomable, showing me that he was such a great writer, and how I never could be.

Dead and Gone

For a few books now Sookie has managed not to get too physically damaged, mostly the harm has been to her heart.  This time, this book seems to have caught up on all the pain she has missed previously.  There have been a lot of pivotal changes, some disappointments, new developments, and indications of what is to come (ambiguous enough for you?).  I was shaken after reading Dead and Gone, and I'm not too sure what to make of it.  This is my second reading (I haven't been tempted to re-read this one because of it's element of horror), but this was the last one to be read this month (I have been rationing them out so that by the time number thirteen has been published I would be ready to go!).  It has been a bit of a struggle to stop at just the three for each month, especially now that Tor books is promoting their own re-read of the books building up to the end...