#70 - "Zorro" by Isabel Allende

I remember seeing Zorro (2005) by Isabel Allende a long time ago on display at my favorite bookstore. My memories of the movie with Antonio Banderas had me immediately dismissing it, but then I noticed that the author was Isabel Allende. I'd read Daughter of Fortune by Isabel Allende and remembered being impressed by the story and the writing, but I still remembered the movie of Zorro being nothing more than silly, and I couldn't imagine what Allende could add to the character or why she would even want to tell his story. Many years went by and I always found something else to read, but then I was wandering among the books-on-cd stacks at the library and I saw Zorro again. I was happy to find a book-on-cd that I had been interested in for awhile--the books-on-cd stacks do not always offer up the largest selection. In the end, I picked up Zorro to have a book to listen to while I worked on creating and sewing my dress (haven't given up yet, but I'm not sure why I'm bothering with it), and not because it starts with a 'Z,' one of the letters I was missing, which is the other pointless project I've begun.

Zorro is the story of Diego de la Vega, a boy born into two worlds in southern California at the end of the 18th century. His father is an aristocratic Spanish military man turned rich landowner while his mother is a Shoshone warrior who met his father in battle. Diego grows up with his close friend and "brother," Bernardo, and first learns about injustice by seeing the treatment of his mother's people in California. When he is fifteen Diego, accompanied by Bernardo, is sent to Barcelona for a European education where he quickly falls head-over-heels in love with the eldest daughter of the family he's staying with, Julianna. Smart, precocious and spontaneous, Diego befriends and is taught by everyone he meets, learning all the skills he will eventually use when he becomes the hero, Zorro. Diego's passion for justice and loyalty to those he cares for brings him to his destiny, and eventually Diego returns home to California to reclaim his heritage.

I really enjoyed this book and I'm looking forward to reading more of Allende's work. Allende managed to tell a fun adventure story of a boy becoming a hero steeped in the realistic history and injustices of southern California and Spain in the early 1800's. The mysterious narrator tells the story of the making of Zorro, someone she obviously knows and admires in her life, but still aware that she's writing about a mythic figure. Reading the book you feel both that Diego is destined to become Zorro and that he would never be what he was without all the people around him. Allende balances the fun of the story and character with her sensitive treatment of the injustices surrounding minorities, women, gypsies, and others. Although a sense of invincibility surrounds him, Diego is still a three-dimensional character with weaknesses and passions. At one point the narrator states, "Diego swore he would never kiss another woman again. Of course, no one believed him." Isabel Allende took Zorro, a character I only knew from Banderas' portrayal, and gave him an origin, friendships, and a rich, historical setting that finally gave his story some meaning.

This book-on-cd was performed by Blair Brown and even though I really enjoyed her reading, I still felt like I was missing something. I'm such a visual, tactile person that seeing the words and typeface and feeling the weight of the book in my hands really makes a difference; I can't help but wonder if I would have liked Zorro more or less if I had read it myself. From now on, I think I'll only listen to easy, fluffy, entertaining books-on-cd.

#69 - "Versailles: A Biography of a Palace" by Tony Spawforth

I needed a book that started with 'V,' and then I saw Versailles: A Biography of a Palace (2008) by Tony Spawforth on the library display table. I've got a general interest in history, and on one gray and rainy day I even visited the famous palace. As illuminating as it was to wander around the gardens with my umbrella and soaking pants legs, I figured it wouldn't hurt to learn some more about Versailles' famous history.

As the title suggests, Spawforth focuses his book on the history of the palace: from the relatively small chalet Louis XIII had built for hunting, to the grand palace Louis XIV envisioned, to the subsequent additions by Louis XV and Louis XVI. Spawforth even tells of its short use after the revolution by Napoleon, its morph into a war museum, and then its change into the museum modern-day visitors see today. At the same time, Spawforth details the lives of those who lived in the palace.

On the whole, I would have preferred more diagrams and pictures when it came to describing the building and the numerous changes made to it throughout the years. I'm a very visual person and the descriptions and few pictures failed to give me a good idea of the look and scope of some of the details. It could also get confusing when Spawforth jumped around in time or condensed hundreds of years at the palace into a couple paragraphs. At some point unpronouncable French names all just seemed to blend into one unpronouncable person, and I had a hard time remembering how important each Duke, Comte, Madame, etc. were and which king they were associated with in Versailles. However, this probably has more to say about my having never studied French and failing to remember most of my European history than the qualities of the book.

My favorite parts of the book were discussions of how the community of Versailles lived during the reigns of Louis XIV, XV, and XVI. Sure, I already had heard a bit about court life, but there's still some fascinating details. Louis XIV was apparently such a womanizer before he secretly married his second wife that the author doesn't even bother to go into details. Louis XV was even worse. He slept with three different sisters in the same family and then set up a house where very young women could be kept for him. He also turned a high-class prostitute from Paris into some kind of Duchess, Madame, or Comtess (or whatever) when she became his mistress. And then the uxorious Louis XVI apparently didn't cheat on his wife, but Marie Antoinette turned the tables and cheated on him. Marie Antoinette was married at 15, but didn't have a child (despite tremendous pressure) until eleven years later. Some said this was because the King had trouble bringing himself to orgasm. Louis XVI also had a more private passage built for him to the Queen's chambers. The original passageway entrance was in a more public place, which would be exceedingly embarassing to Louis XVI when Marie Antoinette locked him out.

Sex scandals aside, it was also fascinating to be reminded of the hygiene of the times. My memories of Versailles were of tourists herded through the carefully and perfectly preserved relics. But Spawforth described the smell of the privies, the lack of bathing, the heat in summer, cold in winter, and the peeing and spitting in the hallways. If there were some way for me to magically morph back into the grand world of Louis XIV, I'm thinking I might prefer to just stay in my little apartment.

The power dynamics and ceremonies were also fascinating. With Versailles as the center of government, the home of the king, as well as the home of all the important nobles, almost everyone with political power could be found under one roof. Women literally fought over their seating positions, and noble men and women played the part of servants, ceremonially dressing and undressing the king and queen in strict ritual. Anyone who had proximity to the royals had power, and the kings manipulated this power struggle to control the court. At first, the discussion of these rituals and power struggles seemed completely absurd, but on further contemplation, I realized it's not that different from today. People are always going to seek power, and people are always going to display their power--even if it's in different ways.

I couldn't put the book down near the end as Spawforth described the dramatic scene when the crowd spilled into the palace looking for the king and queen in 1789. And as much as I cannot condone absolute monarchies--or any kind of monarchy, really, there's something about the majesty and life at Versailles that was hard to let go.

# 68 - "Paris-Roubaix: A Journey Through Hell" by Philippe Bouvet, et al.

I happened to be studying abroad in Freiburg, Germany in 2000 when the Tour de France wandered over the state line for a stage in my adopted home city. Despite knowing absolutely nothing about bike racing, the excitement surrounding the race was contagious. So when I got back home I started watching the Tour on television and eventually bought my own road bike. Although my subsequent injuries and the constant drug scandals in the pro ranks have slightly cooled my ardor for bike racing, I am still easily drawn in by the drama of it all. In order to fully appreciate bike racing, though, you have to know that it is more than simply jumping on a bike and going as fast as you can. There is an incredible amount of strategy involved. The bikers usually race for the leader of their team, giving up their own aspirations to ride a race designed only to help and protect their leader. There are also flats, crashes, breakaways, bad weather, and sprint finishes. And then there are the tortuous mountain stages where the race is often won or lost and the mainly drunk and unruly crowd swarms in on the racers trying to make their way up the curvy, narrow mountain roads.

Paris-Roubaix is another historical and famous bike race in France, having started in 1896. It is a one-day race from Paris to Roubaix, less than 300 kilometers, a distance not very intimidating for professionals. But what makes this race exceptional are the narrow, cobblestone sections. These old, narrow paths are often in bad disrepair, shaking the riders, and causing flats and crashes. When the weather is warm and sunny, the dust from these roads makes visibility incredibly poor and chokes the racers. But when the weather is cold and rainy, the roads become long tracts of mud and muck. The riders finish the race a dull shade of brownish grey, looking barely human.

I knew vaguely of Paris-Roubaix, but was interested in learning more, so I picked up Paris-Roubaix: A Journey Through Hell (2007) by Philippe Bouvet, Pierre Callewaert, Jean-Luc Gatellier, Serge Laget and translated from its original French by David Herlihy. There were some good things about this book: I learned a lot about the race, its history, and the most famous riders and winners. And there were a lot of good pictures that show the race from its beginning in 1896 through today. The riders, their bikes, their clothing, and even the spectators changed, but the mud and the dust and the suffering remained pretty constant. The nickname, "journey through hell" stemmed from what the land surrounding the course looked like as the riders biked through the war ravaged area north of Paris after World War I, although it is also a fitting characterization of what the racers go through physically. There were close finishes, surprise finishes and scandal throughout, and the book makes the weighty history of this race clear.

But this book is written for French fans of this race, not for Americans. Even though I know something about contemporary racers and bike racing, I could tell the authors were coming from a completely different culture. And it didn't translate well. I can imagine a typical French person reading an American book extolling baseball, naming all the greats and stadiums with reverence, and waxing poetic about the wonder of the hot dog, having the same effect.

And the writing really started to drive me crazy. Really, all I wanted to know is what happened. But the writers could not get out of this weird poetic trend that I found at best boring and uninformative. I can't be sure if it was the original writing or the translation or both, but it was hard to read. For example, a photo taken in 1993 showed a cyclist who had just finished the race. His shirt and helmet are off, but his face and legs are still caked with dirt and mud. He has a soda in one hand and his other hand is grabbing his crotch; his face has a "fuck you" expression that goes along with his hand gesture that made me think he's not appreciating the camera being shoved in his face at that moment. But the caption in the book only says: "The warrior rests. He's hung up his helmet. It's over, and he's returning to the land of the living. Just about. Hell has crushed his thighs and his arms. And his head too was caught in the vise...but his helmet saved him. He's a true warrior." Besides being embarassingly oblivious to what I think is actually happening in the picture, why couldn't they at least give me some useful information? Who is he? Did he finish the race? Did he place? Did he crash? Is that why he's mad?

If you are a particular fan of bike racing, the book is worth it for the pictures, as long as you avoid most, if not all, of the words.

#67 - "Behind the Bedroom Door" ed. by Paula Derrow

Behind the Bedroom Door (2009) is a series of essays about sex, written by women, and edited by Paula Derrow. I first saw it on display at a bookstore; and because sex is rarely uninteresting, I put it on hold at the library.

The essays came from women of a variety of ethnicities, ages, and sexual orientations, although I noticed that most were writers living in NYC, with a couple outliers in Los Angeles and Berkeley. On the whole, their stories were honest, open, and well-written. I continue to be fascinated by other people's lives and this book was no exception. I admire people who can just put their most personal and private lives out there--especially when it concerns a subject as emotionally charged as sex. I get a glimpse of someone else's life, and whether I can truly relate to them or not, I always enjoy trying to figure them out. This isn't a book of erotic stories; they aren't meant to be titillating. Although it's probably not appropriate for children, this is a book written for women, by women, and focuses much more on the emotional aspects of sex and relationships than the physical.

I was a little concerned when I first started reading, though. The prologue and first couple of essays read like this to me: "so then I cheated on this guy, and then that guy didn't work, but then I fell in love and now I'm happily married with children, which just goes to show <insert lesson learned here>." I found that any kind of generalizations about the genders, or describing what women want, or looking back with faux wisdom and sage advice were complete turn-offs.

Fortunately, most of the essays avoided this pitfall. Perhaps this reflects my unhappy single status at the moment, but the essays with the most meaning were the frustrating and sad ones. Maybe it's because pathetic stories make me feel better, but I admired the women who could unflinchingly and honestly tell how they messed up, were left unfulfilled, or were not living up to today's standards of women's sexuality. Lauren Slater discussed her low libido and low interest in sex in "Overcome." "The Sweetest Sex I Never Had," by Hope Edelman was a very moving and bittersweet story of her first boyfriend. And "Do Not Enter" just made me cringe as Betsy Stephens described a rare medical problem that made her feel like she had a really bad yeast infection for six years(!!), making sex incredibly painful and almost impossible.

The stories range widely from great sex, to revenge sex, to prego sex (or lack thereof), to date rape; I would be hard-pressed to find a woman who couldn't relate to at least one of them. And fortunately, most writers refrained from tying everything up with a neat and tidy bow about lessons learned and requirements for happy relationships and good sex lives. I was left with the impression that women's sexuality is so intricately based on personal chemistry, their history, childhood, self-esteem, and a million other factors, that defining a "typical" woman is virtually impossible.

#66 - "Ghosts of Chicago" by John McNally

I understand that choosing books because of the first letter of the title, in order to read a book starting with every letter of the alphabet is kind of ridiculous. Or utterly pointless. While browsing at the library, I've picked up a couple of books that looked interesting but I probably wouldn't otherwise have read. And so far I have been pleasantly surprised; Ghosts of Chicago (2008) by John McNally is no exception. I needed a 'G' and there it was on the display table: shiny and new; interesting cover; positive blurbs; short stories. That's all I needed.

Although the title had me slightly concerned that I would be reading actual ghost stories, Ghosts of Chicago does not have supernatural characters or events. Instead, the characters in McNally's seventeen short stories are haunted by their own desires, obsessions, and problems. This can make for a sometimes uncomfortable and depressing read, but I was impressed by McNally's writing and creativity. Every story quickly drew me in, and the characters felt real, even when I couldn't understand--or regretted--their actions.

My last foray into short stories was The Best American Short Stories where I decided that short stories were not my favorite format because I didn't have enough time to get involved with the characters or plot. So, in some ways, Ghosts of Chicago was an improvement for me. The similar settings of the Chicago area, with the relatively dark and somber themes winding through each of the stories created more of a "whole" product. I felt less disjointed and scattered as I read this book. However, I still found myself yearning for more information, and I still felt I was jumping so quickly from story to story that the individual stories couldn't make a deep impression on me.

I was most impressed by McNally's range and creativity. Whether the protagonist is a man, a woman, or a child, McNally gets inside the character's head with surprising realism. The stories range from realistic, to unlikely to almost surreal. I'm still trying to figure out what exactly was going on in "Remains of the Night," a story that involves superheros and creepy bugs and (most likely?) mental illness. I also found "Contributor's Notes" very entertaining. McNally uses his own name as the protagonist and I was trying to figure out what the story was saying about him and then he twisted it all around at the end. And "Return Policy," a sad and bittersweet story about a man who we get to know in slow increments. Although I'm still not completely sold on short stories, I would recommend Ghosts of Chicago for those who enjoy them.

#65 - "Breaking Dawn" by Stephenie Meyer

After some marathon reading yesterday, I am happy to say that I have finally finished Breaking Dawn (2008), the last book in Stephenie Meyer's Twilight series. And now that I know the entire story, my opinion hasn't changed too much. The books are quick and easy to read and pretty addicting once you get started. Although they're pretty empty and meaningless in the long run, they simply do not inspire enough energy for me to hate them.

**Now that I've finished the series, I think I might be discussing the plot of the entire series with no care for spoilers. I'm not sure if there's anyone out there who could possibly care at this point, but if you do want to read the books, it's definitely better to know as little as possible because wondering what would happen is what kept me going.**

I was annoyed with Meyer at the beginning of this last novel. Here I had been giving her praise for Bella being smart and independent and as soon as I started reading Breaking Dawn, Bella is suddenly eighteen years old, pregnant, and married. Her husband is about 100 years older than her with all the corresponding knowledge and wisdom that entails and Bella is ready to give up her life for him and her child. That seems a little unhealthy and unbalanced to me, and I can see how Bella could be a bad role model for young teens. The love interests of Jacob and Bella are also frustratingly unreal. Edward doesn't have much of a personality besides "loving" Bella, protecting her, and doing whatever will make her happy. And Jacob is the exactly the same way once he "imprints" on Bella's daughter (which basically means that Bella's daughter is in something of an arranged marriage from birth).

I thought Meyer might be making religious allusions when she said that the Cullens' family bond was stronger than other vampire bonds because the Cullens made the "sacrifice" to refrain from (sin) human blood. It also felt like a bit of a cop-out that all of the difficulties that would have made turning into a vampire so difficult sort of disappeared once Bella became immortal herself. Bella didn't have uncontrollable cravings for human blood, she did not lose her friendship with Jacob, and she did not lose touch with her father. She didn't end up sacrificing much at all. Finally, Bella named her daughter Renesmee (after her mother Renee and her mother-in-law Esme), which I think is one of the worst baby names in the history of the world. I'm hoping she doesn't start a trend.

On the other hand, the plot kept me moving throughout the series. My guess after reading the third book was that Bella would somehow avoid becoming a vampire, Edward would somehow die, and Jacob would end up with Bella. I wasn't especially happy with the married and pregnant route, but I was pleasantly surprised to find that Bella actually became a vampire. I was curious what Bella would be like as an immortal and her change had something of the excitement of comicbook superheros acquiring their powers. Once Bella successfully became a vampire, though, the rest of Breaking Dawn lost a little of its edge because it was obvious that everything would end well. And I feel a little ambivalent about the ending. On the one hand, it's cool that Bella uses her powers to protect her family and avoid a fight, but on the other hand it's kind of anticlimactic. One pretty much unknown character is killed and any other kind of fighting is avoided. It could have been more exciting, but on the whole I enjoyed reading these books more than I had expected.

#64 - "The Eyre Affair" by Jasper Fforde

I heard of The Eyre Affair (2001) by Jasper Fforde from a number of different Cannonball readers and it sounded pretty interesting, so I put it on my list and just now finally got around to reading it.

Thursday Next is a woman in her thirties, a former police officer, and a survivor of a disastrous offensive in the neverending Crimean War, she is now a Special Operative in the Litera-Tec division in London. Thursday Next is drawn into an assignment dealing with the heinous and murderous Acheron Hades and the mysterious disappearance of Charles Dickens' Chuzzlewit manuscript. Although Thursday Next lives in 1980's England, her reality is quite different from our world. England is a police state, run by a giant corporation by the name of Goliath. Her father can literally stop and control time. She has a pet dodo bird and helps her co-worker fight werewolves and vampires. And for some reason, people are obsessed with literature and art. Acheron Hades eventually gets his hands on the original manuscript of Jane Eyre in an effort to hold Ms. Eyre ransom, and Thursday Next finds herself within the classic story and working with Mr. Rochester to protect both their worlds.

I found The Eyre Affair to be incredibly creative and at times very funny. I enjoyed reading it, yet I probably wouldn't call it a favorite. My main problem was that there was so much going on, it seemed to lack focus. I felt so scattered as I read it, that I couldn't get involved in either the characters or the story. Sometimes I felt that Fforde was just stuffing everything that he could possibly satirize or found funny into the 375 pages. Thursday's world includes: werewolves; vampires; unexplained time travel; extinct animals; people obsessed with literature; England as a police state; a never ending war in the Crimea; a father on the run; a brilliant uncle inventor; a dead brother; a feud with an ex-lover; and traveling within literature. After a while I had a hard time believing in anything in Thursday's world because none of it was grounded or explained well enough for me to accept.

I understand that The Eyre Affair couldn't have been so funny, creative, and all encompassing if Fforde had stopped to explain everything that was going on--if that were even possible. It would have been a different book. And even though I couldn't understand why people in Thursday's world were so obsessed with literature or why Jane Eyre would still be a famous novel with a different and godawful ending, I loved the idea of literally delving into the world of the stories. But I was too frustrated by not understanding Thursday's world and distracted by the hundreds of themes Fforde had up in the air to ever really fall into the story and forget that I was reading a book.

#63 "Eclipse" by Stephenie Meyer

With Eclipse (2007) by Stephenie Meyer out of the way, I am now three quarters of the way done with her vampire series. And my opinion is still about the same. The writing isn't great, but it has a way of sucking you in, and it ends up being a quick, easy, and entertaining book to read. The worst thing about the series so far has been the first half of Twilight. It seems to get better as it goes, and I'm actually looking forward to reading the last book. I don't even understand all the venemous hatred focused on this series. I guess it's just the backlash for being more popular than it probably deserves, but there are a lot worse things out there. Bella isn't even a bad role model. Meyer always seems to tie in some classic literature to her plot, using Jane Austen, Shakespeare, or Wuthering Heights somehow. That's something. And even though Bella is significantly weaker than her vampire and werewolf friends, she is pretty independent and makes her own decisions. My opinion on this may change when I read the last book, but so far, I really have no reason to be offended. Of course, you just have to accept, pretty much without reason, that Edward and Bella are in love. I think it helps if you just imagine that it's some kind of thing that can happen with vampires.

The plot of this novel is very much a continuation of the last book. Edward and Bella are still in love. Bella wants to become a vampire, but she also gets more nervous about it as the time to change comes closer. Bella is still caught in what is an apparently classic love triangle between human, vampire, and werewolf. And Bella is still in danger: Victoria is still trying to avenge her lover's death by killing Bella, and the ruling vampires in Italy are still intent on Bella becoming a vampire.

I have a guess of where this last novel is going, but I might be completely wrong. I feel like all three books have been building up to something with nothing ever really changing, so I am going to be disappointed if Meyer doesn't come up with some kind of satisfying conclusion.

#62 - "A Journal for Jordan" by Dana Canedy

At first I wasn't sure I wanted to read A Journal for Jordan (2008) by Dana Canedy. It was clear from the cover that the story was about a soldier who had been killed in Iraq, but had left a journal for his young son. I knew that no matter how it was written or whether I could sympathize with the characters or not, that it would be a heartbreaking tale; and to be honest I really just picked it up because I haven't read a book that started with 'J' yet. But as much as I disagree with the war and hate the loss of life involved, the sacrifices, death, and tragedy that surrounds those involved have always been more impersonal and academic to me than real. I actually try to avoid hearing about it because it's so depressing, but I figured the least I could do is learn the faces and story of one American soldier who gave up his life for his country.

Dana Canedy is pulitzer-prize-winning editor for the New York Times. She met an army man, Charles Monroe King, back in her hometown when she was visiting her family and fell in love with him, proving the old axiom that opposites do attract. Dana is assertive and loud while Charles is artistic, quiet and shy, and honorably devoted to God and the men and women in his command. The couple had their differences and issues, and their careers kept them constantly dealing with the challenges of a long-distance relationship, but in the end they stayed together. And then 9-11 happened, and the U.S. invaded Iraq, and First Sergeant Charles King was deployed. Perhaps sensing the danger and lack of time, Dana and Charles decide to try to have a baby, and the child is miraculously conceived in one short weekend. Charles manages to see Dana only once when she is about five months pregnant, and Dana gives him a present of a small, blue journal for him to write thoughts to their son. Their child, Jordan, is born while Charles is in Iraq. Charles manages to come home on leave when Jordan is about six months old and meet his son for two weeks, but not long after he returns and only about six weeks before he is due home for good, Charles is killed by an IED on a road in Iraq.

This book had more to it than I was first expecting. Canedy works through her own grief by writing about the story of Charles and his relationship with her for their son to read when he is older. And she seems to have been pretty honest--not turning Charles into some unreal angel who her son could never live up to, but at the same time really showing how honorable and dedicated he was. Although the book certainly made me cry and I felt pretty drained by the end, it wasn't all tears and sadness. Canedy first talks about how she and Charles met. I loved the awkwardness of their initial courtship, and Charles was so cute and sweet and muscley that I immediately got a little crush on him. I was also interested in the story of their families and backgrounds, which made the story even more tragic when he died, as I could see the suffering of his parents and his daughter, as well as his fiance.

In the end, I found I could relate a lot more to Charles, a man almost wholly dedicated to God and serving his country, than I would have ever thought possible. And knowing more about him and his family and what he lost and what he left behind really is just depressing. I found myself playing the game if only: if only he took his leave at a different time, if only they had closed that dangerous road down, if only he hadn't chosen to go on that mission. But in the end that doesn't do any good, and all I ended up thinking was, what a waste. Why did he and his family need to make that kind of sacrifice? Bush and his ilk were the ones all fired up to go to war. Would Bush have still dragged us into this war if, say, he had to sacrifice one of his daughters for it? I feel like that should be the standard for armed conflict.

#61 - "Undress Me in the Temple of Heaven" by Susan Jane Gilman

I've been keeping an alphabatized list of all the books I've read in this contest in order to more easily keep track of the books I've been reading. Scanning over this list recently, I realized that I had titles starting with most of the letters of the alphabet. And that's when I came up with the brilliant idea of finishing up the alphabet. Surely, this is a manifestation of some of my obsessive-compulsive tendencies (I like lists and I certainly like finishing lists), but I've realized that it can also encourage me to pick up and search out books that I might otherwise miss. And so that is how I ended up with Undress Me in the Temple of Heaven (2009) by Susan Jane Gilman. Wandering by the books on display at the library, I noticed the bright red cover with the title starting with the relatively unusual letter 'U' and thought it looked interesting.

I wasn't super excited about reading the true story of a recent college graduate's backpacking experience around the world. It seemed like something too many of us had done to be particularly interesting, but one of the blurbs on the back cover anxiously declared, "'[w]hat befalls her and her traveling companion is so unexpected and frightening, I read the entire second half of the book in one sitting. Thank goodness she survived. Thank goodness she can tell a story so well." The blurbs made me curious about just what kind of backpacking misadventure had occurred. So, I picked up the book, thinking drugs and jail and torture might be involved.

And once again, I found the blurbs on the book cover completely misleading. Undress Me in the Temple of Heaven is the story of the author, Susan Jane Gilman, and her friend "Claire," two recent Brown University graduates who decide to conquer the world and postpone the inevitable trek into adulthood and responsibility by backpacking around the world. It is 1986 and they decide to start with China, a country which has only recently been opened for American tourists. The book only covers the girls' trek through China, which lasts about seven weeks. Susan and Claire do not speak the language, Susan has never been out of the country before, and they have to face the challenges of two relatively spoiled Americans traveling in a less-developed, communist country. Without going into too much detail, something goes wrong in China, making the trip even more tense and frightening than usual. However, although I was sometimes concerned for them, I never worried that they were going to die or be stuck in China forever. That blurb was a bit more than an exaggeration.

Despite my disappointment in the blurbs, I really enjoyed reading the book. Gilman is an honest and entertaining story teller and I think it helps that she's looking back on this trip from over twenty years of reflection and experience. Gilman was also great at creating the mood of feeling alone and alienated in a foreign country, as well as foreshadowing the negative events to come. A couple of times earlier on in the book I was so creeped out it was as if I were reading a horror story. Gilman's story is also utterly relatable for me: graduating from a great American college; completely optimistic and a little nervous about the unknown future; thinking the world revolves around you and your minor struggles when you haven't even seen the really bad things that can happen; the struggle and wonder of traveling in a completely foreign place; and the annoyances of a traveling partner when you've spent too much time with them. I don't want to belittle Susan and Claire's experiences because what happened to them was unexpected, scary, and sometimes exciting, but the reason I enjoyed reading this book was the storytelling and not because I wondered if they would make it out alive.