Stuff I've read

Truth be told, I didn't finish my book for October, but in my first seven days of being back in Georgia, I managed to finish both it and something else as well.

Flight Behavior, by Barbara Kingsolver is sort of a sci-fi meets family drama novel. It's the story of how climate change accidentally sends billions of butterflies to a tiny, backwoods town in Tennessee, where Dellarobia, who discovers them, thinks they're a sign that she shouldn't leave her husband, and the rest of the town (in spite of what scientists are saying) believes the butterflies were sent from God.

It's an intriguing story, both true and not, and while it didn't demand my attention from the beginning, by the time I reached the final chapter, I was wholly invested. I think part of why I waited so long to finish Flight Behavior is because I wasn't ready for it to end. While I usually gravitate towards books that can't be put down from page one, it was good, I think, to read something different.

The writing is good, to say the least. Kingsolver starts out simple, making it clear that the characters are basically one-dimensional, difficult to like in many ways. But they grow, as characters should, and what I like most about this book is that this necessary character growth, which makes Flight Behavior all the more well-rounded as a novel, is done through a progression of tone, syntax, and language. It's pretty cool.

What a bewildering verdict: vile. Maybe they only meant it at half-strength, in the same way they used "epic" and "heinous" and "stellar."

Last week, I read Gone Girl, by Gillian Flynn. I saw the movie a few weeks ago (a cardinal sin, I know), and when my mom said she had the novel on her nook, I thought I'd see how it delivered on paper.

While many of you have undoubtedly already indulged, let me just say, this one doesn't let go. Oddly, it's not my favorite book, but it's definitely one of my favorite stories. Flynn creates a world in which almost no one is likeable, in which redeeming qualities aren't quite enough, and in which readers will find themselves conflicted and riveted, because it's strange to read about people who are so bizarre and twisted that even the justifications seem a stretch.

As a movie, Gone Girl is quick and action-packed. It moves and so moves its audience. As a novel, it is deep and gut-wrenching. It provokes thought and creates an unfixable chasm between readers and characters, a chasm both great and terrible - one I deeply want to fix but am unwilling to approach.

It is painfully human, but somehow alien.

Two completely different novels, but both oh-so-worth the read.