Book review: What makes a book sing?

This journal entry is sadly outdated, but since I need something in this spot…here goes…

Timid thunderstorms, sort-of book reviews, does Ender’s Game have a soul?

The weather in Missouri has been teasing us fall-lovers this week. Yesterday morning it was borderline cold. (This is August in Missouri we’re talking about – and it was in the fifties at night? Bliss!) I was wrapped in a blanket on the porch at 7:15, waiting for the bus to scoop up Will, thinking about the slant of light, the clear gold tint of it, mixed – somehow - with a cool fairy-like blue. The subdued peep of the insects, resigned to coming death, but unwilling to surrender yet.  I blinked and wondered; when did fall happen?There is a juxtaposition here – the slow wilt of July in Missouri, chased by the scorching anger of August, paired with dismal sensationalist predictions from weather.com (hot and more hot!), this makes the present daytime seventies with a dry cool breeze even more of a windfall. An unexpected and welcome wonder.And this morning – even better – a gentle, timid thunderstorm amidst coffee. The murmur of rain accompanying vinyasa. Yeah – a good day. And even better since my appetite has been whetted for fall. I love having something to look forward to (don’t we all?).It might be a no-no to journal about the weather (why is this? Snore-inducing perhaps?), but I’m going to. One of my favorite aspects of writing is setting and mood. Stories feel empty without it; lacking in soul. I find it hard to emotionally engage with story unless an author weaves in some mood, feeling. Yes, often this happens in characterization – but for me I encounter this when I’m dropped into the story right next to the character – experiencing their story as my own.Recently I read Ender’s Game, followed by Tuck Everlasting. Ender’s Game was a slog. My brain knows it’s a good story. My brain feels sympathy for Ender. My brain wants to know (somewhat) what’s going to happen. But, mostly my brain just doesn’t really care. My brain wants to check this one off the list, because hey- Jeremy read it and loved it, EG is on NPR’s list of greatest SFF reads, and I’ve got to challenge myself right? But it just felt so empty.The part I primarily engaged with: when Ender built the raft on earth – he and Valentine have an important conversation on this raft upon the lake at the house in the country. The color, the scent, the ripple of the water, the detail of the wasp - I had something to latch onto – to engage my senses. And perhaps that is the success of Ender’s Game – the mood of it matches the dismal story – because it is a dismal story.  It matches the character of Ender – brilliant, but oppressed, bottled and stunted emotionally. So, I know EG is brilliant, but personally I didn’t get any jollies from it. In the future, I will not take EG down from the book shelf, rub its cover lovingly, and, with delight and anticipation, put it on my nightstand to read again (my definition of a good read).The first paragraph of Tuck Everlasting was like fall weather in August. Beautiful.Interestingly enough, they are also an example, at least according to present writing conventions, of what not to do. Read this and gasp:               The first week of August hangs at the very top of summer, the top of the live-long year, like the highest seat of a Ferris wheel when it pauses in its turning. The weeks that come before are only a climb from balmy spring, and those that follow a drop to the chill of autumn, but the first week of August is motionless, and hot. It is curiously silent too, with blank white dawns and glaring noons, and sunsets smeared with too much color. Often at night there is lightning, but it quivers all alone. There is no thunder, no relieving rain. These are strange and breathless days, the dog days, when people are led to do things they are sure to be sorry for after. Oh my.  So beautiful. Just typing that out, reading it again was a pleasure. It connects on a deep level with my soul. And also reminds me of childhood summers in Kansas. I feel a part of the story – an immediate hook for me. I know this book is going to be a beautiful language experience, a book I can sink into every night like a breath of peace and surrender at the end of a long day.Now, if only the characterization and plot hold up, thinks I.Sigh.  Overall, Tuck everlasting is a beautifully written, delightful story. I did find the characterization a little lacking, and the ending somewhat of a downer, but the themes presented were interesting – I can see how this book would stimulate interesting discussions in a book club or classroom. I think the skill of the language in the prologue misled me to think the book was less juvenile than it was intended to be.Overall, I’m on the fence about reading it again. Thinking about the imagery makes me thirsty to read certain descriptions again – the storm at night, morning fishing on the lake, every part with the bullfrog, so I derived great pleasure from the language. Hmmm. Maybe I’ll read it out loud to Will, but there are too many other stories I want to experience, and this was no Howl’s Moving Castle.Anyway, back to my original point; setting and mood – with vivid sensory descriptions and imagery – make story come alive. Since this is such an integral part of what I enjoy in story, and in my writing, it’s going to feature strongly in my journals. I hope that clarifies some of what I’m doing here (not it’s entirely clear to me).What makes a book really sing for you? I’d love to hear your thoughts.