Wicked by Gregory Maguire

The Life and Times of the Wicked Witch of the West

I was one of very few women I know, if not the only one, who had not yet read this book. Well, now that I’ve read it, I can say that I enjoyed it, and cannot think of why it took me so long to get around to doing so.

This is the “origin story” of the Wicked Witch of the West, the antagonist to Dorothy in The Wizard of Oz. In Maguire’s treatment, the Witch, whose given name is Elphaba, is not a cookie-cutter fairy tale prop. Her green skin is only the first of her problems and her intellectualism and deep thinking are in grave contrast to the shallow, pretty people she seems to find herself among so often. She is a complex person whose passions are motivated by a lifetime of pain, guilt and, eventually, obsession.

Not only the Wicked Witch, but the land of Oz itself gets a deeper study and explanation in Wicked. Oz seems less like the strange, magical, random land Dorothy discovered but a politically unstable and oppressed nation with rigidly defined social classes and racism. Not surprisingly, much of the beauty is only skin deep. I got the feeling that the details in Wicked are the behind-the-scenes realities that Dorothy would fail to notice, being just a child.

Maguire presents his version of Oz with much of the lilting, poetic, clever style of a children’s story, but with an adult vocabulary and adult situations. I would say that the language of this novel was its most enjoyable aspect to me. Sure, Elphaba’s story is worthy and interesting, but I found even more joy in reading descriptions like, “To Glinda she [Elphaba] looked tired and terrified, but strong, as if her form were knit with iron and whiskey instead of bones and blood,” or Elphaba’s explanation of her own re-invention: “I wouldn’t mind leaving myself behind if I could, but I don’t know the way out,” and, “I who have always been unbecoming am becoming un.”

In the end, Elphaba is a sympathetic character and only the most heartless among us wouldn’t grieve for what she becomes and what becomes of her. (I can think of at least one popular villain’s origin story that completely misses the mark here.) Though there is much clarification and revision of the story of The Wizard of Oz, and a sad and complex Wicked Witch of the West has been created, Maguire does not (or cannot) make Dorothy, our original heroine, into the villain. An antagonist (though reluctant), a pawn of the Wizard, extraordinarily naïve? Yes. But not the villain.

What a world…what a world.



A Year of Books I Should Have Read by Now

Favorite Lines Friday

I just finished Wicked by Gregory Maguire, and it is full of delightful lines and turns of phrase. Today, I thought I'd share one of my favorites from early in the book:


Woe is the natural end of life, yet we go on having babies.


It's hard to argue with that. And yet I still want to.....



Coming next: more thoughts on Wicked by Gregory Maguire

Wednesday Word

boughten (bôt' n) adj. [Dialect] bought at a store and not homemade


In On the Banks of Plum Creek, little Laura Ingalls is fascinated by all the "boughten" items that went into building the family's new home. I was surprised to see this word in a work of printed literature, since I wasn't sure it was really proper English.

The Ingalls's new house includes boughten shingles, which "were thin and all the same size; they were far finer shingles than even Pa could hew with an ax," boughten doors, locks with keys and white China doorknobs, and boughten hinges that "did not rattle like wooden hinges or let the door drag like leather hinges." The wonder and excitement that Laura feels over these boughten items is a clear reminder that we are now in very different times.

I suppose I've heard the word "boughten" in use, although not very much.  Perhaps it's not so much a dialect thing, however, but a sign of these different times.  We really don't need to point out that something was purchased at a store (or online) when nearly everything we own has been obtained that way.  Instead, we point out the novelty of a homemade or hand-crafted item.

I think this is a little sad. I like to make a lot of things myself, from the occasional homemade garment (for myself or my niece's doll) to fresh cheese, bread and even vinegar. (The fact that my other blog is a cooking journal may have given some of that away.) Of course, I have no idea how to make roofing shingles or door knobs, and if I take the time to think about it, I'm glad I don't have to.  Perhaps, however, a little of Laura's wonder might be good for the soul.  When was the last time you really contemplated your "boughten" door hinges?

On the Banks of Plum Creek by Laura Ingalls Wilder

I know I started this book two or three times when I was a kid. I remember the dugout house and the cow named Reet because she had markings resembling a reet (wreath) of roses on her side. (Caroline Ingalls insisted the cow’s name be changed to Spot, apparently having little tolerance for the foreignness of the cow’s original Norwegian owners.) I didn’t get much further than that, however, which is a bit sad. I feel like I missed out on a lot of good childhood reading because I was so distractible.

It’s a pleasure to read of these simple homesteading, pioneer times from young Laura’s point of view. The days are filled with new discoveries and wonders and Laura faces it all with a cheerful optimism. There are many anxious moments and downright dangerous situations, but our little heroine faces them all bravely and scrupulously and her adventures usually have happy, or at least satisfying, endings (including those involving the infamous Nellie Oleson, to whom we are introduced in On the Banks of Plum Creek).

I sometimes wonder if Wilder not only wrote her books to entertain children, but to give a more cynical nod to adults who might be reading. Laura, with a child’s naiveté, doesn’t always seem to recognize how grave her situation is, how poor her family is, how much debt her father must be in, how hard it must be for her mother to stay alone with her children in the middle of nowhere while her father walks a couple hundred miles to find work in a pair of worn-out boots. Any adult reading this can see the more worrisome undertones of this story and might not think it would be so much fun to walk three miles to town across the creek barefoot. Days-long blizzards, prairie fires, and plagues of grasshoppers are hardly things to sigh over with wistful nostalgia. And most women could probably read a little more into Caroline Ingalls’s, “Oh, Charles!” like, “Oh Charles, what did you get us into this time?”

But I think there are lessons for us adults to be learned from light-hearted Laura as well. This little girl never complains. I love the simple appreciation with which she approaches each day, feeling true gratitude for the very few new things her family can afford. I love the way she carefully observes the minutia of her environment. I love the way she trusts and loves her family and is comfortable with her role within it. And I could learn a thing or two from Laura about schooling one’s temper, especially when dealing with the likes of spoiled and nasty Nellie Oleson. I think I would have punched her in the nose.


A Year of Books I Should Have Read by Now

Wednesday Word

Continuum (kən tin’ yoo wəm) 1. a continuous whole, quantity or series; thing whose parts cannot be separated or separately discerned…

The Continuum, the continuous, inseparable whole of space and time, is almost a character in and of itself in Blackout and All Clear (as well as other novels) by Connie Willis. It is a chaotic system, and as such, not “a conscious entity,” according to time travel theory. The Continuum, however, cannot, or perhaps will not, be manipulated, but instead is a manipulator, allowing the historians into history only where they will do no harm. It protects itself, but not necessarily the time travelers, who are trespassers in the domain of history.

In All Clear the concept of the Continuum is complicated even further, and its function (if not motivation) is part of a puzzle to be solved. But this chaotic system takes care of itself so well that one must question whether it really is not a conscious entity. Could the Continuum actually be the self-aware caretaker of all of time and history? I suppose there are things that people, even time traveling historians, were not meant to know.

I just love the way well-written science fiction can make one forget that it isn’t real!



Coming next: my thoughts on On the Banks of Plum Creek by Laura Ingalls Wilder

All Clear by Connie Willis

A Hugo and Nebula-Award winning novel.

All Clear is the conclusion to Blackout, which I was pretty excited about reading back in the fall. It picks up immediately where Blackout left me hanging, or at least relatively so. It is a time travel story after all.

Time traveling historians Mike, Polly and Eileen/Merope are stuck in England during World War II and are struggling to come up with reasons to believe they’re ever going to get back to 2060 Oxford. Their dangerous adventures continue and they also attempt to send distress signals to the future so someone will try to get them home. In addition to dodging rockets and bombs, they also try to dodge situations in which they could change history. Their faith in the time travel theories that suggest that history can take care of itself is eroding, and they are prepared to accept that their actions may have irrevocably changed the future

The historians are armed with plenty of foreknowledge (such as dates, times and locations of bombings in London and V-1 and V-2 rocket attacks) and at first this gives them a bit of an attitude of detached superiority toward the contemporary citizens. They admire the courage and strength of the ordinary folks being bombed out of their jobs and homes and pity them in their loss and desperation. When their own situation becomes more and more uncertain, however, their pity becomes commiseration, and they must learn from the courage of the folks around them. They can no longer be cold observers.

And sometimes, they just get lost in the moment and behave compassionately and heroically, as if they belong to this unjointed place and time. I found that it’s in such moments that the historians show their true character and it is that admirable character that makes them qualified to be the heroes of this story. And, oh boy, what a story. All Clear kept me on my toes. As soon as I didn’t think I needed any more of the details I’d been plowing through, it all became clear that each detail was important.

Yes, just like in history, all the details are important, but only when looking at it all from the right direction can one see just how that it so. All Clear (along with Blackout) is science fiction, it’s history, it’s astute character study. It’s exciting, thought provoking, puzzling. It’s another brilliant concoction by Connie Willis.



A Year of Books I Should Have Read by Now

A Game of Thrones by George R. R. Martin

A Song of Ice and Fire: Book 1

This was really more of a Book I Should have Finished by Now. I started it a long time ago (I hesitate to even try to guess how long ago), but have finally finished it. What can I say? I’m terribly distractible.

Just about everybody has probably heard of this story by now, since it was aired as a series by HBO, and has been immensely popular, even among people who don’t typically read epic fantasy novels and series. I haven’t seen the film version of A Game of Thrones, so I can’t say how it measures up to the novel. I can say, however, that this novel measures up to any and all of the epic fantasy creations I’ve enjoyed over the years.

There’s just one thing. I didn’t always like this book as I was reading it. I recognized its quality, marveled at its creativity and epic scope, and got sucked into the story. I, however, wasn’t always enjoying myself. Bad things happen to good and innocent people. Characters I hated got what they wanted. Characters I liked did things that ticked me off. I disliked others that I got the feeling I was supposed to like. What the heck was going on here?

The truth is that Martin has built a wonderfully interesting world to set his story (his long, long story) and has peopled it with realistic characters that are neither protected from their harsh realities nor shielded by preconceived fantasy tropes. To me the ultimate achievement of a fantasy story is to build impossible places that still allow the reader to suspend her disbelief, make both realistic and magical things happen, and put people in those places and situations that are just like real human beings (even if they don’t look like us). Those people should then react, for good or evil, to their environment in ways the reader can understand and sympathize with. With all that in mind, I must say that A Game of Thrones, qualifies as an ultimate achiever.

The struggle for power between the Starks and Lannisters, the adventures of Daenerys with the Dothraki and Jon Snow at the Wall, the looming but yet undefined threat in the cold north, and the shadows of a deep history that includes dragons, king-slayers, and years-long seasons all make for a great escape. A Game of Thrones, however, did more than that. It tricked my mind into believing that these characters and situations were important enough to care about. Often I was frustrated and irritated, but not because the book was lacking in quality (as is too often the case). I was frustrated and irritated because the quality of the story made it all real to me at some level.

While I wasn’t always sure whether to say, “Bravo!” or, “Touché!” I can definitely say, “Success!” and, “More please!” Happily, there’s more. A lot more.


A Year of Books I Should Have Read by Now

Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy by John Le Carre

I’ve decided to call this kind of story a “Heartburn Thriller.” You know, the kind where there’s not much dashing around or fighting or shooting, but you’re on pins and needles, flipping the pages as fast as you can, trying to figure out what’s going on, and getting the characters’ acid indigestion along with them. I haven’t read many of this type of story, and this was the first John Le Carre novel I’ve read, but I think I’m hooked.

Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy (published in 1974, when Europe was structured just a bit differently than it is today) is now a classic tale of George Smiley’s dogged determination to find the mole in British intelligence. Smiley is even smarter than your average spy, which is entertaining enough, but the way the reader is pulled along with (or perhaps sucked into) the ultimate spy versus spy story is what makes this novel brilliant. I wish I could put my finger on exactly how this works, what the difference is between this book and any other book, even books about espionage and counter-espionage. Perhaps it is how real all of the characters are. Their intelligence is always challenged by that of some other smart guy. Their paranoia is pathological, but it’s the only thing keeping them alive. Their personal lives are kind of pathetic, but what can you expect from the type of person who is at his best when up to his eyebrows in secrets, lies and damage control.

The storytelling in this novel, an adaptation of which is now in theaters, relies on a series of flashbacks, and we are only given these flashbacks on a need-to-know basis. We have some idea that the characters have been through a pretty serious and dangerous history, but we get it from them in bits and pieces that build the tension and give us the hints we need to follow Smiley as he figures everything out. Unfortunately, while the main plot is resolved, we are not left with much of a whew!-everything’s-going-to-be-all-right feeling. We are left only with a tad bit of relief and some lingering heartburn.

So why is this so enjoyable? Why am I left feeling thrilled and entertained rather than depressed and paranoid? Perhaps because, as a reader who knows she’s been reading and not living the story, I’m a bit astonished at how I was pulled into the novel. Perhaps it is that I am pleased that I have found something so well and uniquely written (at least compared to my meager experience.) Perhaps it is the relief of knowing that this is fiction, that this is not real.

Or is it?


A Year of Books I Should Have Read by Now