23. Doctor Sleep

By Stephen King

22. Frankenstein: The Graphic Novel

By Mary Shelley (Published 2009 by Classical Comics)

21. Holes

By Louis Sachar

My daughter really enjoyed Ellen Raskin's The Westing Game and requested more mystery books for her birthday. I googled "best YA mystery books like The Westing Game" and Louis Sachar's Holes showed up as one of 'em.

The kid gulped down Holes (and The Tattooed Potato) not long after her birthday, learned in the afterword a movie adaptation exists and promptly informed her parents that we should all watch it as a family. Her bookish parents said, well, maybe we should read the book first... well, after trying to wait patiently for about a week, she pretty much demanded that we watch Holes for our movie night (double-billed with my choice for Gremlins 2 since Halloween was approaching).

I had never in my life heard of Holes the movie before, so I was a little wary until I saw some raving Letterboxd reviews. We were all pleasantly surprised at how good the movie was. I realize now the love for this movie comes from Millennials who grew up with Holes. For Gen X parents with a Gen Z kid, this made an excellent family movie.

I ended up reading Holes about a couple of weeks later, and I can now say the movie adaptation was surprisingly faithful to the novel.  It kept the non-linear structure where it jumped back in time to Stanley’s great-great-grandfather and back to current events and then back to the story of Kissin Kate Barlow and Sam the Onion Seller.  I was surprised that the Warden’s snake venom-tainted nail polish scene was in the book – it was so nasty how she scratched Mr Sir’s face with her painted nails!

I might as well write a quick summary:  Stanley lives in a big city and gets caught with a stolen pair of used shoes donated by a famous baseball player, only he didn't steal them.  He gets sent to a remote detention centre in the middle of nowhere that's overseen by the Warden, a wealthy woman whose family has owned the land for generations.  It's called Camp Green Lake because there used to be a lake over a century ago but it's now just parched barren desert.  The boys are all forced to dig one big hole each day to "build character" but there is a nefarious reason that only the Warden knows.  The land is perforated with hundreds and hundreds of five-foot wide and five-foot deep holes.  Stanley gradually gets used the physical demands of the daily hole-digging and becomes one of the boys.  He makes friends with the very quiet Zero, a very bright but illiterate boy. We also learn that Stanley had a great-great-grandfather in Latvia who was cursed by a fortune teller before he immigrated to America because he broke a promise. When Stanley's great-great-grandfather was travelling from New York to Texas, he was robbed by Kiss Kate Barlow.  Ever since then, Stanley's family has always had bad luck.  Stanley's father is a struggling inventor obsessed with finding a cure for foot odor.  When Stanley finds a small object in one of his digs, this sets off a chain of events.  The reader gradually learns that there is a connection between Stanley's family history, the barren land at Camp Green Lake, the Warden, and the boy known as Zero.  Some adventure ensues, and everything gets explained at the end with a satisfying conclusion.

One main difference was that Clyde Livingston was a baseball player in the book, while in the movie, he was a basketball star (which actually makes more sense as basketball has become the more popular sport).  The ending was also slightly different.  In the movie, the storm scene was made more dramatic by having it rain down on all the characters at the Camp Green Lake compound.  In the book, the rain only started as Stanley and Zero/Hector were driving away from Camp Green Lake in the lawyer’s car.

The book was as enjoyable and fun as the movie.  There are many characters and a lot of stuff going on with the nonlinear plot that is fairly complex for a YA novel.  Sachar mentioned how it was important for him to make it digestible and appealing for a 10-11 year old, and he pretty much succeeds in tying up all the loose ends.  I can now understand why my daughter was so impatient to watch the movie after she finished the book.  I heard that Sigourney Weaver wanted to star in Holes the movie because her daughter was also a big fan.

Louis Sachar seems like a genuinely nice, personable guy.  I liked his notes at the end, when he mentioned how Holes was very popular at juvenile detention centers, and he’d received fan mail from the kids there.  He also admitted that he only learned that you can’t actually dig a hole 5 feet deep and 5 feet wide using a five-foot shovel until the movie was being made. There was no room for the actors to swing their shovels!

20. Monster, She Wrote: The Women Who Pioneered Horror & Speculative Fiction

By Lisa Kröger and Melanie Anderson

19. The Starless Sea

By Erin Morgenstern

Someone on Librarianologist raved about The Starless Sea and had me at  “secret, magical library”.  I have yet to read The Night Circus, but thought I’d see if The Starless Sea was available as an inter-library loan.  Sure enough, it was.  I figured a library loan was safer than finding my own copy as I’ve been wary of schmaltzy fantasies ever since The House in the Cerulean Sea.   

Despite my suspicions, I got sucked into The Starless Sea quite quickly.  I very much enjoyed the first two-thirds.  Each chapter alternated between a fantastical tale and the “real” world, in which we follow the life of Zachary Ezra Rawlins, an introverted graduate student in Vermont.  One day at the university library, Zach comes across a mysterious book called Sweet Sorrows.  It contains a collection of stories (including a few that the reader has already read), but the book reveals neither author nor publishing info.
 
Zack is then gobsmacked to discover there’s a story about him as a young boy inside the book he’s holding.  The text describes in perfect detail the day he found a painted door in the alley. This boy was also tempted to open it, but for some reason, he talked himself out of it and went home.  The next day, the boy went back to the door, but it had been painted over.
 
Zachary then proceeds to the front desk and asks a friendly librarian for more info about Sweet Sorrows.  The book was apparently donated by The Keating Foundation via the private collection of J. S. Keating.  From there, Zach embarks on an investigation to uncover the mystery surrounding the origins of the book.  Zach’s sleuthing leads him to the annual Algonquin Literary masked ball in Manhattan.  Coincidentally, the event takes place in a matter of days. Zach’s curiosity is great enough that he takes the train and books a hotel near the venue.  Zach eventually meets Mirabel and Dorian, and not long after, he ends up in the secret, magical, underground library, which is the Harbour to The Starless Sea.
 
At this point, I was very much drawn into Zach’s adventure. I was also enjoying the magical world of the library and meta-ness of it all, as Morgenstern makes many references to storytelling, as well as literary references to famous novels.  There’s a passage where one of the “story” characters, Simon, picks up a book that is only described as “a heavy volume with footnotes and a raven on its cover”.  He finds himself “so drawn into its tale of two magicians in England that he loses track of time.”  Clearly, a reference to Susanna Clarke’s Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrell!

[Another book I've read that was also influenced by Clarke’s epic novel was The Ten Thousand Doors of January (2019).  The Starless Sea (2019) is better written than Ten Thousand Doors, but it’s still a pale imitation of Clarke’s masterpiece!]

Later, Morgenstern references another famous novel, this time by Donna Tart, in the bar scene that unfolds from Dorian’s POV.  He’s sitting in a corner, pretending to read The Secret History while spying on Zach and his friends.

      He has quietly longed for relationships with the type of intensity of those within its pages, regardless of the bacchanalian murderousness, but never found it and has now reached an age where he expects he never will. He has read the book seven times already but he does not tell the waitress that…

He thinks the group he is looking at does not have the same level of camaraderie as the characters in his hand but there’s something there. Like each of them individually is capable of the intensity if not the murder but this is not the right grouping. Not quite. He watches their table, watches the hand gestures and the arriving food, and watches something make all three of them laugh and he smiles despite himself and then hides his smile in his drink.

After Zach becomes a guest at the Library and meets the Keeper, the narrative starts getting more convoluted. Around the halfway point, more characters are introduced (as well as many cats, who inhabit the library).  We gradually learn how the various characters are connected to one another in the space-time continuum. But The Starless Sea also starts to gradually divorce itself from any logic and devolves into complete whimsy.  I was curious to see how the author was going to wrap everything together.   Then it just seemed to fall apart.  I was very disappointed.  Even after I had finished, I needed to refer to the plot summary to keep track of what had happened. 

I also had many questions that the narrative never really explored nor addressed.  Why were Miriam and Dorian at the annual Algonquin Literary costume ball?  Does the library contain all the stories of the universe, real AND fabricated?  How did Fate and Time meet, how did they get separated?  So Simon is the father of Mirabel?  At what point did she become Fate?  Why is Mirabel’s hair pink?  What do bees have to do with storytelling?  Why is the starless sea made of honey?  Why was Zach the one chosen to find the lost man again?  So the bees were The Kitchen.  The bees can make almost anything.  That’s kinda… silly?
 
For an almost 500 page novel, the characters were surprisingly underdeveloped. Some reviewers found Zach too passive and thinly drawn.  I had recently watched A Quiet Place: Day One, so all I had to do was picture Joseph Quinn as Zachary Ezra Rawlins and voila, instant likablility and empathy!

So Dorian, he was supposed to be a hot, older man.  Like Viggo Mortensen. We knew very little about Dorian, except one thing, that he used to work for Allegra, the leader of The Collector's Club who's been trying to destroy all the doors to the Library because she's trying to protect it for some reason that I forgot.  We never learn what he was like before he joined Allegra's secret society nor what Mirabel had said to Dorian that ultimately led him to renounce his calling.  This seemed to be a significant moment, especially in a novel about storytelling, but this story was never explored.
 
Zach and Dorian would've made a cute couple, but the two characters barely spent any time together, yet they seemed to be inextricably drawn to one another.  Why?  And little is known about The Keeper and Fate’s history together.  I didn’t really care about their relationship so much, but I was more interested in Zach’s relationship with his mom.  All we know is that he’s the son of a fortune teller.  Kat and Zach’s mom had more interaction and development than Zach did with his own mother!
 
There were often long gaps before we returned to a character.  The bar scene involving Zach, Kat and a third woman was near the beginning at page 44.  When the narrative returns to the bar that night, it's told from Dorian’s POV, it was more than 200 pages later.  Kat’s POV came about at page 391 (Interlude V) when we read her secret journal entries.  The novel is just shy of 500 pages.  Kat’s POV was actually quite interesting, but by then, it was too late.  The author should have included her journal entries much earlier on in the narrative and I found it odd that she didn’t.  Surprised that an editor didn’t catch that.
 
There were some nicely written passages, but at some point, The Starless Sea felt like a jumbled mess of nicely written passages.  Take this case for example.  In the “real” world, Zach had been gone for weeks since he left Vermont to attend the Algonquin Masked Ball in NY.  Kat had been trying to convince the police that her friend is missing, and trying to retrace Zach’s steps before he disappeared.  The passage below is poignant in the way it captured their fleeting friendship:

     “How well do you know him?” they asked me, over lukewarm police-station tea in an environmentally unfriendly disposable cup with the teabag in it, trying to be more than leaf-flavored water and failing.
     How well does anyone know anyone? We had a handful of overlapping classes and all the game people know each other more or less. We hung out sometimes at bars or by the crappy coffee machine in the media building lounge. We talked about games and cocktails and books and being only children and not minding being only children even though people seemed to think we should.
     I wanted to tell them that I knew Z well enough to ask him for a favor and to return it. I knew which cocktails on a bar menu he would order and how if there wasn’t anything interesting he’d get a sidecar. I knew we had similar views on how games can be so much more than just shooting things, that games can be anything, including shooting things. Sometimes he would go dancing with me on Tuesday nights because we both liked it better when the clubs weren’t so crowded and I knew he was a really good dancer but he had to have at least two drinks before you could get him out on the floor. I knew he read a lot of novels and he was a feminist and if I saw him around campus before 8 a.m. it was probably because he hadn’t slept yet. I knew I felt like we were right at that place where you go from being regular friends to help-you-move-dead-bodies friends but we weren’t quite there yet, like we needed to do one more side quest together and earn a few more mutual approval points and then it would be something a little more comfortable, but we hadn’t figured out our friendship dynamic entirely.
     “We were friends,” I told them and it sounded wrong and right.

But Kat and Zach never saw each other again.  There were many half-formed or under-explored relationships throughout The Starless Sea.  Zach and Mirabel also became friends in a way.  At one point, after the library had been destroyed, Mirabel appeared alive if somewhat dishevelled.  She enlists Zach to aid in her search for the lost man (Simon).  Yet they get separated early on.  I understand that Morgenstern is trying to subvert conventions/expectations of a fantasy adventure, but come on.  Why spend so much effort setting up Zach and Mirabel to embark on a quest.  It’s frustrating and just not fair to the reader.
 
I was quite involved in the narrative for hundreds of pages, which seemed to be building up to something, and then to have a story that at first seemed so cohesively imaginative, all disintegrate into whimsy, it felt like such a cop-out.  Instead of a world that made sense, it just seemed like anything goes.  Like when Zach found himself rowing in an ocean made of paper confetti.  Like what?  Is this subverting a genre, or just being whimsically lazy?  It’s much, much harder to create a fantastical work of fiction that has logic and cohesion.  At some point, I didn’t much care what each character signified.  So Zach drowned in the Starless Sea…?  Oh, too bad.  Wait, he came back?  Whatevs.  By then, my faith in having a satisfying conclusion had been shattered and I just wanted it to end.
 
Still, I enjoyed most of The Starless Sea, but the denouement could go to hell for all I care!  The writing could have really benefited with another editing pass, especially for the final act!  I suspect that anticipation for the author’s follow-up to The Night Circus might have been a factor in the rush to publish.  Morgenstern is no Susanna Clarke nor Donna Tartt, but she’s still a damn good writer.  The first two-thirds of The Starless Sea was impressive enough for me to want to read The Night Circus.  It’ll be another library loan though!

-----

     “Where is everyone?” Zachary asks, the annoyance obvious in his voice but the Keeper does not look up from his writing.
     “You and I are here, your friend is in his room, Rhyme is likely watching him or attending to her duties, and I do not know Mirabel’s current location, she keeps her own counsel.”
     “That’s it?” Zachary asks. “There’s five of us and…cats?”
      “That is correct, Mister Rawlins,” the Keeper says. “Would you like a number for the cats? It might not be accurate, they are difficult to count.”
      “No, that’s okay,” Zachary says. “But where…where’d everyone go?”
     The Keeper pauses and looks up at him. He looks older, or sadder, Zachary can’t tell which. Maybe both.
     “If you are referring to our former residents, some left. Some died. Some returned to the places that they came from and others sought out new places and I hope that they found them. You are already acquainted with those of us who remain.”
     “Why do you remain?” Zachary asks.
      “I remain because it is my job, Mister Rawlins. My calling, my duty, my raison d’être. Why are you here?”
     Because a book said I was supposed to be, Zachary thinks. Because I’m worried about going back because of crazy ladies in fur coats who keep hands in jars. Because I haven’t figured out the puzzle yet even though I don’t know what the puzzle is.
     Because I feel more alive down here than I did up there.
     “I’m here to sail the Starless Sea and breathe the haunted air,” he says and the echoed statement earns a smile from the Keeper. He looks younger when he smiles.
     “I wish you the best of luck with that,” he says. “Is there anything else I might help you with?”

18. The Westing Game

By Ellen Raskin

17. Through The Woods

By Emily Carroll

16. The Ant World Chronicles

By JH

15. Night Shift

By Stephen King

14. Silver Nitrate

By Silvia Moreno-Garcia 

13. Out

By Natsuo Kirino

12. Silverwing: the graphic novel

By Kenneth Oppel (illustrated by Christopher Steininger)

Since she's been able to read, I've borrowed tons and tons of comics and graphic novels from the Mordecai Richler library for my 11 yo daughter.  Many of them are series, and very occasionally she'll go to me and say, can you get me the next book? as she wants to find out what happens next. 

I've heard of the Silverwing series of books by Kenneth Oppel, but didn't know much about them.  My daughter hadn't read the books yet so when I saw the graphic novel at the library last week, I just signed it out, as I wasn't sure if my daughter would be interested in reading the whole series. Besides, the graphics looked intriguing (like Watership Down, but with bats!) and the illustrations were dope.  

Then last Sunday, as I was helping her out of the bath, she told me, you know that book you got from the library, Silverwing?  It was really good.  I was like oh yeah?  And she launched into a brief summary of the story about this bat colony and how they were at war with the birds, etc. etc.

I told her the graphic novel is actually based on a real book, and there are a whole series of them, but this graphic novel is just the first one, and it came out in 2023.  Would you be interested in reading the actual books?  She goes, sure, I guess.  Which is her way of expressing interest.  So cool!  Now I just have to search out the Silverwing series of books now!  Maybe we'll find some while used book hunting in Vancouver!

And my curiosity was piqued, so I picked up the graphic novel and was able to read it at a leisurely pace in two days.  It was a very exciting adventure story about a runty bug-eating Silverwing bat named Shade who gets separated from his colony while they were migrating south for the winter.  He meets a Brightwing bat named Marina who helps him on his journey to catch up with his colony.  There's background info about the ancient conflict between the owls and the bats, as well as bat lore and legend.  But the main narrative is on Shade and Marina get into various mishaps and misadventures, including getting themselves involved with two scary giant carnivorous jungle bats who turn out to be evil monsters who have no issue eating "lesser" bats.  

The illustrations of the Goth and Throb's bloody goblin-esque faces as they ate their prey and fought with Shade and Marina were really amazing.  And when Shade and Marina saw all the metal bands lining the edge of Goth and Throb's wings - which meant that they must have EATEN all the human-worshipping barn bats!

Although I enjoyed the story immensely, it didn't make me want to seek out the original books to read.  However, I will encourage my daughter to read them so she can explain to me what happens next!

11. Black Star, Bright Dawn

By Scott O'Dell

10. Kid Power! (Spectacular Optical Book One)

Edited by Kier-La Janisse & Paul Corupe

9. Yellowface

By R.F. Kuang

8. The Main: Portrait of a Neighbourhood

By Edward Hillel

I came across Edward Hilel’s The Main quite by chance, really.  My daughter has known her BFF since daycare. BFF’s parents are now separated, but they have a circle of friends who regularly hang out at Parc du Bullion, drinking beer and McAdams cider.  They’re comprised of parents from the neighbourhood and/or people who frequented the Parc JM softball games and/or the dep on Duluth and Clark.  

 

Hubs and I are not super social with them, but we’d sometimes hang out there when the girls are together, and the BFF’s parents would often bring their charcoal grill and host BBQs to celebrate a family member’s birthday.  This last time, we got together for a Sunday Easter egg hunt at the park. 

Long-haired Craig showed up and brought along a hardbound book of black and white photographs  titled The Main, which immediately piqued my interest, though somehow the book ended up in Olman’s hands first.  While he was flipping through the pages, Craig was saying how he'd just found it on the street - someone was apparently moving and left a bunch of stuff on the sidewalk.  I remarked how the book was in such good condition and what a nice find.  Craig seemed very pleased. When I finally got to leaf through the book, I admired the slice-of-life photos of Plateau life circa the mid 1980s with St-Laurent Boulevard, aka The Main, as the anchor.  And how fitting that we're all situated in the Plateau!

I mentioned how I love black and white street photography, and how this book reminded me of Robert Frank’s work.  Why hadn’t I heard of this book before?  Craig asked if I’d ever seen a Diane Arbus exhibit, and I was hell, yes, back in 2003 when SFMOMA held a major retrospective of Arbus’ work.  I remember this well because that was when I first spent the Christmas holidays with my future parent-in-laws and was just getting to know them.  One morning after breakfast, we were in the kitchen discussing what we’d do that day, and it was brought up that we’d all go see the Diane Arbus Revelations show at SFMOMA.  I literally gasped out loud.  OMG!  I was a big admirer of Arbus' work, had never laid eyes on her original prints before, and there was a major retrospective of her work and my in-laws want to go see it?!  These are my people!

I also mentioned that the Musee des Beaux Arts had a Diane Arbus exhibit recently, but Craig kind of waved it off as it was so small.  He had seen her show in New York several years ago. Anyway, when I got home later that day, I looked up The Main, which seemed to have languished in obscurity and has been long out of print.  On AbeBooks, I found the same hardbound edition in great condition at a Westmount bookstore (that only had an online presence) for $30 USD with $10 shipping.  It arrived about a week later.  I now have my own copy of The Main, which is in slightly better condition than Greg’s.

The Main was a marvellous time capsule of my neighbourhood that doesn’t really exist anymore due to the inevitable societal shifts and gentrification.  The Plateau used to be known as a working-class neighbourhood of immigrants, namely Jewish, Portuguese, and Greek.  Rent was cheap, and due to its central location, the Plateau was also a haven for university students, artists and musicians.  It’s most famous residents were Mordecai Richler and Leonard Cohen. Even back when I first visited the Plateau in the 1990’s there was already some gentrification taking place.  It wasn’t until Ubisoft moved into the Peck Building and the sudden rise of local indie bands like Arcade Fire did the Plateau/Mile End become a “hot” neighbourhood.  

Over the years, many of the original residents have moved on, either to the suburbs or more affordable areas.  The rent and housing prices have driven many artists away.   But there are still traces and fragments here and there.  Portuguese rotisseries and restaurants still abound, and the bagel shops and Jewish establishments like Cheskie’s and Beauty’s remain steadfast institutions.  But it has lost a lot of its original working-class roots and artistic edginess, becoming a well-to-do area that attracts French nationals and affluent professionals.

A couple of summers ago, my daughter had a big yard sale, and these Portuguese ladies came by to chat with me, saying they used to live in our apartment years ago.  They now live in the West Island, but they love to come back to their old neighbourhood to shop (they had just come from le Patisserie Lawrence V.).  Sure, there are still older Jewish, Portuguese and Chinese residents here, but many, like these ladies, have moved to the suburbs over the years.

In any case, I recognized so many familiar locations via Hillel's photos.  This one with the woman sitting by the Virginia Woolf portrait is the alley where I live!  Where that chain link fence used to be is our parking area. 

There was one photo taken from the lobby interior of what was then known as the Peck Building, but the portico entrance looked familiar, and I thought how much it looked like the Ubisoft building.  The text mentioned that the building was located on the corner of St-Laurent Blvd and St-Viateur - so I was right!

 

There were many great street photos:  one with Charcuterie Hongroise (still going, but for how much  longer?) and Charcuterie Fairmount (RIP).

Berson & Sons Monuments, one of the oldest landmarks on The Main, was replaced by an ugly new condo building about a decade ago.

Author/artist Edward Hillel himself has evolved into a multi-disciplinary artist based in New York now.  While I was googling him, I realized I had missed out on a very cool 2017 exhibit at The Museum of Jewish Montreal right in the Plateau!  It included never-before-seen contact sheets - all the negatives that did and didn't make the cut for the The Main.

The St-Laurent merchants' association commissioned Hillel, now based in New York, to return to the Plateau and create a new series of colour photos documenting the boulevard, 30 years after The Main was published.  Apparently, Hillel was gratified to find some of his old haunts still intact.

Argh!!  If only I had known about this back then!  What a missed opportunity!  

7. My Career Goes Bung

By Miles Franklin

6. Apt Pupil

By Stephen King

5. Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children

By Ransom Riggs

4. Zombie

By Joyce Carol Oates

3. The Driver's Seat

By Muriel Spark

The 1974 film, Identikit, had been on my watch list for some time with this intriguing description: "Liz Taylor as suicidal spinster; hard to find." 

 

I was sure I'd first learned of the film via Kier-La Janisse's House of Psychotic Women, but couldn't find any reference to either 'Identikit' nor 'The Driver's Seat' in the index -- only Secret Ceremony was cited in reference to Elizabeth Taylor (apparently Severin's House of Psychotic Women collection, an unusual DVD box set based on the book, features Identikit).

 

Last October, I finally watched Identikit, about “a flamboyantly dressed Englishwoman cutting a swath through Italy - tourism as exhibitionism, self-destruction as self-actualization.”  I believe it was due to Janisse's efforts that Identikit has been made available on various streaming services, like Prime and Shudder (I streamed it on Tubi). Still not sure whether I actually liked this unsettling film, but I certainly appreciated it as an unusual oddity, with its garish 70's Italo-trash aesthetics and Liz Taylor’s unhinged performance. 

 

The premise of Identikit reminded me very much of Martin Amis' London Fields, which I’d read many years ago and was intrigued by its morbid subject matter, mostly because I was a teenager and I'd never read anything like it before. I realize now that Amis was likely influenced by The Driver's Seat when he wrote London Fields:  both Lise and Nicola Six are ‘murderees’ by their own design.  As a reader also observed: Amis tends to get excoriated for his creation of Six, as if she’s the creation of a misogynist. Yet is she really that different a creation from Lise?  

 

After having watched Identikit, I wanted to get my hands on Muriel Spark's novella.

 

While reading the book, much of the mystery surrounding Lise’s motives was gone having already watched the film adaptation, which was incredibly faithful to The Driver’s Seat.  However, the book did provide a tiny clue into her erratic and unconventional behaviour (that seemed to be missing in the film):

Her lips are slightly parted: she, whose lips are usually pressed together with the daily disapprovals of the accountants’ office where she has worked continually, except for the months of illness, since she was 18, that is to say, for 16 years and some months. Her lips, when she does not speak or eat, are normally pressed together like the ruled line of a balance sheet, marked straight with her old-fashioned lipstick, a final and judging mouth, a precision instrument.

Lise seemed to have undergone some kind of long-term health issue and her death-wish may be due to the fact that she had some form of terminal illness, which she hadn't divulged to anyone.

A Letterboxd reviewer for Identikit took the words out of my mouth:

I was struck by how incredibly faithful the film is to the source, even adhering closely to the clever way the book plays with time. Giuseppe Patroni Griffi's images support the text wonderfully right from the opening shots of nude mannequins with heads covered in shiny reflecting foil. There is a constant motif of bright backlighting as well, reflecting the harsh personality of Lise, forcing your eyes to adjust and create definition. All lovely ways of reinforcing a story that centers around the concept of identity, and how we form and control the way we are perceived.

Much like Identikit, I wasn't sure whether I liked The Driver's Seat, but I certainly appreciated its oddness, its unsettling-ness, its frankness, as well as its leanness, much like this reader: 

 I decided to reread a book that is one of her shortest, most memorable and certainly starkest…  The Driver’s Seat (1970) is 101 pages long (in the irksome style of technology manufacturers who describe their products as “7.2mm thin”, I suppose I should say it’s 101 pages short). That is important because first, it shows that Spark has no interest in padding out her story – it is not one of those novels that is really an abruptly promoted novella – and second, because it means the story has almost no middle. It’s lean and hungry. There are many books whose beginnings or endings are praised, but how often do we say, The middle of that book? I couldn’t get enough of it. When you see a book without a middle – Patrick McGrath’s Dr Haggard’s Disease also comes to mind – it’s likely that rather than having only a beginning and an end, what has really happened is that the author has followed Kurt Vonnegut’s advice to “start as close to the end as possible.”

The Driver's Seat,was very much a dark, existential journey (physical and psychological) of a woman who lived a conventional life who comes to realize she doesn't have much to lose, and is looking for a way to end her life in her own terms, yet is still limited in agency due to 20th c. (patriarchal) society.  It was even shortlisted for the Booker Prize in 1970.  I would definitely read more Muriel Spark, if I come across her other books.

2. A Haunting On the Hill

By Elizabeth Hand

For Christmas, my BIL had given me The Bee Sting by Paul Murray, a Booker Prize shortlister I wasn’t familiar with. He said I was welcome to exchange it at Mrs Dalloway’s for something that was more in my wheelhouse.  I browsed for a long time before I spotted a single hardbound copy of A Haunting on the Hill.  I had no idea Elizabeth Hand had written an official sequel to Shirley Jackon’s most famous novel, The Haunting of Hill House!  It was released only a few months ago in October 2023.

I was a big admirer of Hand’s horror mystery thriller Generation Loss, which first won her the 2008 Shirley Jackson award.  It seemed the planets were aligned for me to read A Haunting on the Hill: it was the exact same price as The Bee Sting, so the clerk was able to do a clean exchange for me. I was really looking forward to starting 2024 with a new release! 

The novel begins with Holly and her girlfriend Nisa taking a weekend break away from NYC.  Holly is a struggling playwright who got a lucky break with a $10,000 grant to produce The Witching Hour -- a passion project inspired by Elizabeth Sawyer, who was accused of witchcraft and executed in 17th c. New England.  Nisa, a singer-songwriter obsessed with murder ballads, will compose the music and perform the songs on stage with the actors.  

While out on a drive, Holly discovers Hill House.  She had been searching for a retreat, a place where her performers could rehearse, do read-throughs and collaborate on the development of the play.  She manages to find the local real estate agent, Ainsley, who happens to own Hill House.  Ainsley is reluctant at first, but agrees to rent Hill House to Holly for the week.

Holly brings on board Stevie, a sound designer who was a former child stage actor, and Amanda Greer, a lauded theatre actor who was involved in an unfortunate accident that somewhat rerailed her career.  At first I was a little wary, as the four main characters are self-involved theatre types. What kind of eye-rolling antics would I have to endure with a bunch of clashing egos thrown into a claustrophobic haunted house.  Holly has been frustrated by her stagnant career path and considers the grant her one chance at breaking out as a successful playwright, so she’s determined to make this work, no matter how her gut keeps screaming out there is something terribly wrong with Hill House

Holly’s gf Nisa is probably the most annoying character of the four.  Blessed with a beautiful voice, she’s constantly trying to “test the acoustics" by belting out her compositions.  And with an innate talent for penning melancholy folk songs, she has a promising musical career, yet deep-down she’s suspicious that Holly wants to reign her in.  She’s also narcissistic and having a secret affair with Stevie.

Stevie is one of Holly’s best friends.  As a former child stage actor, he was sexually abused by an older costar, and has grown up dealing wit his past trauma with drugs and hedonism.  Hill House first “reveals” itself to Stevie by giving him the illusion of a safe space in the form of a secret door that’s meant just for him.

Like Nisa, Amanda also likes to command attention, yet unlike Nisa, she is horribly insecure.  Her being older than the others doesn’t help either.  It’s important to note that all three women are desperate to either revive or kickstart their respective careers, and this desperation is what binds them to Hill House.

Overall, I found A Haunting on the Hill to be extremely disappointing, almost to the point of being badly written. First, I had no connection with any of the characters.  Yes, they were immature, unlikeable theatre people, but writers like Patricia Highsmith had a way of making unpleasant characters relatable, or at the very least, fascinating.  Hand herself had created one of the most deeply flawed characters in Cass Neary, yet I could still relate to Cass’ foibles.   The four main characters in A Haunting on the Hill were too self-obsessed to truly care for anyone.  Second, the story wasn't even remotely creepy, let alone scary.  The black menacing hares of unusual size did absolutely nothing for me.  What made Shirley Jackson’s novel so effective was, as the reader, you were never sure whether the house was truly haunted, or whether all the inexplicable occurrences were all in Eleanor’s mind.

The pacing was also off somehow.  There wasn’t any sense of impending doom that ever got properly built up.  The novel was written in the first person from Holly’s POV, yet equal time was spent inside the heads of Nisa, Stevie and Amanda. Holly didn’t have a particularly unique perspective, so I thought it was strange that Hand didn’t use the third person to narrate (which Jackson did for The Haunting of Hill House).    

   Now she grew angry.  They were supposed to all be in this together, with the same goal: the play.  Yet there was Stevie, upstaging her in the parlor, pulling out all the stops as that damned dog. Her voice and her songs were what knit the entire story together, even Holly had admitted that.

   And where was her reward?  Nisa had brought beauty and a sense of ancient mystery to Holly’s words.  She’d infused them with a power and terror that echoed down through centuries unitl Nisa held them, protected them, shared them with those she thought she could trust with something so precious. 

   But all they could see and hear were their own voices.  Petty. Selfish. Greedy.  Deaf to beauty when it rang out.

Hand went deeply into everyone’s past issues, and Hill House amplified their destructive neuroses and desires, yet everyone still felt so two-dimensional, and awful.  Holly, Nisa, Stevie, and Amanda were mostly bickering, bitchy theatre types.  The three women who watched over Hill House -- Ainsely, Melissa, and Evadne -- were even more thinly drawn.  They were supposed to be good witches yet their motives or histories were never developed.  Perhaps Hand wanted to keep them mysterious or inscrutable, but they did nothing to propel the narrative.  They didn't even provide any substantial backstory to Hill House.  There was also something about a family who had lived in Hill House during 80's and a teenaged son who had disappeared, but this is only briefly alluded to.  Ainsley had agreed to rent out Hill House too easily despite knowing the danger she’d be putting her renters in.  She also never reappeared again.  Only Melissa and Evadne made half-hearted attempts to convince the occupants to leave before the forecasted October snow storm.  When Melissa mentioned “it was too late”, she just took off! 

It would’ve made more sense if Ainsley had more of a connection with the house and was making excuses to rent it out, ie. nothing bad had happened there for a long time, and she needed the money, when in actual fact, the house wanted to be “fed” a la Burnt Offerings (which I still need to watch).  There could’ve been interpersonal conflicts between Ainsely, Melissa and Evadne (which would provide a nice counterpoint to Holly, Nisa and Amanda).  And Melissa and Evadne could’ve swooped in at the last minute to extricate Holly, Amanda and Stevie (because there had to be one sacrificial victim – it’s a horror thriller after all!).  But this never happened.

 Though Stevie himself had felt it, too, in the parlor, that primal thrill as he felt himself fold into someone else. Something else…

     He knew from Holly’s expression that his performance had already surpassed whatever she’d hoped for. He still felt it, a flash of the intense charge he got when he’d nailed a part a shivery current that ran through his entire body, everything seeming to tremble, on the verge of coming apart. The others had laughed when Amanda talked about actors being possessed, but he knew that she was right.

    It had been years since he’d felt it, like a drug he’d forsaken. Only this wasn’t bad for him, like drugs. This was what he’d needed, all along. This was what he’d been secretly praying for, the chance to give himself over to something more powerful than himself. The muse, an old acting teacher called it.

I really liked the idea of having a group of actors unknowingly channelling the latent power of Hill House during their rehearsals, much like the psychics in Jackson’s original story.  The characters were definitely seeing and hearing things that didn’t make sense.  But the sightings of the menacing big black hare didn’t make much narrative or symbolic sense - it just left me scratching my head.  And that secret door leading to a psychedelic passageway just seemed kind of silly.

Many ideas that had any potential ended up feeling half-baked.  I mentioned the pacing - it took far too long for things to happen.  Like Stevie finally opening that damned secret door near the end.   Then the storm came and the strange knocking.  Then Nisa snuck up to the door because she couldn’t stand the fact that Stevie would keep something like this from her, but like an idiot, ended up getting trapped inside the bowels of the house.  It was all kind of rushed.  Too much time was spent on four annoying characters and their bitchy interpersonal dynamics, their flaws and insecurities on repeat.  Not enough effort spent creating an effective or marginally scary horror story.  

In the end, it was Nisa who got “eaten” by Hill House, not Holly.  A year later, Holly was still able to produce her play with Amanda Greer as the star and using recordings of Nisa’s music.  But it wasn’t clear whether Holly had changed or even learned anything because none of the survivors really talked about what happened at Hill House. They just moved on with their lives.

I think an important detail that Hand missed was that it was never proven that Hill House was really haunted.  Anyone who had met their fate at the hands of Hill House was mentally unstable in some way.  Hill House always knew who the most vulnerable person was.  Nisa was too self-involved and full of herself to be an Eleanor Vance.  But as the most annoying character in the novel, I was nevertheless glad the house took her!

It's a shame really, as I really wanted to like this novel. Now I'm going to have to find a way to sell or giveaway this lovely hardcover!