Book Hype

My father-in-law recently built and installed two floor-to-ceiling bookcases in our living room. Even when we sorted through and dispersed some of our collection, we found that we quickly filled these cases. When FinL visited again, he expressed some concern over the sagging in one of them, but pronounced them sound. Do you see where this is going? Today, one of the shelves collapsed.

This is not a reflection on my FinL's work, but it is an illustration of the fact that it is indeed possible to own too many books. I'm a happy supporter of my local independent bookstore, but I also love my library and after today's experience, I have to love my library more often than I visit my bookstore. The problem with loving the library is that I sometimes wait months to read the "hot" book. I have some weird panicky quirk that makes me loathe to get a book put on hold for me, so I'm really at the mercy of how quickly my very literate community gets through the book(s) of the season. Sometimes I've come by a book so late that the hype has freaked me out to the point that I don't like the book, don't get what all the fuss was about (The Lovely Bones). Other times I just enjoy reading something at my own pace. I recently finally got my hands on two uber-hyped books and had very different reactions.

I finally read Kathryn Stockett's The Help (about a year behind schedule) and I really liked it. I had given up on it when I saw that there were 36 holds on the first book returned (out of 10) at the library. Then I more or less forgot about it. A colleague handed it to me recently and so I read it. I didn't have that same shuddering realization that I'd had with Hillary Jordan's Mudbound, that shock at realizing how recently we still discriminated so openly against people of color, but The Help was a good read. I was a bit disappointed by the ending because it felt like the black maids were sending the poor little rich white girl out into the bigger world while they'd stay and take the heat. That was the first time that I felt I was reading a book about blacks that was written by a white person and I'd gone in skeptical. I'd listened to a panel of readers on the Diane Rehm show awhile back who had really enjoyed the book's story, but each had agreed that Stockett didn't get the speech patterns right. They said they forgave her quickly because the story was such a good one. So, yeah, I was nervous, but in the end The Help earned the hype.

Then, recently, I ran out of books to read. I was floundering, really. There was a ton I wanted to read, but not necessarily buy. I noticed The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo on our now-collapsed shelf and thought, why not? EVERYONE loves this book. I knew nothing about it, having purchased it for my husband based entirely on the hype at our local bookstore when it first came out. I'd even bought him the next two for Christmas and birthday, but I knew nothing. I wasn't enthusiastic, though, because I'd really disliked Smila's Sense of Snow. Husband Ben assured me it wasn't much like that, but I pictured cold and slow. I was further discouraged by having looked at it a year ago and discovered that the first 20 pages was about banking. Yep, 20 pages of Swedish banking (or something very much like banking). This time around, in desperation, I skipped all of that and plunged in.

Well, I didn't know about the torture and the rapes. How could I? I had female friends who raved about this. Everyone loved this book.

To me, Girl with the Dragon Tattoo is a fairly standard thriller/mystery, and I was very intrigued by the main plot--finding out what had happened to young Harriet Vanger so many years ago. I even liked the setting. In fact, I was ready to visit Northern Sweden, even in the cold of winter. It sounded lovely--never mind that every woman in the country is at risk for being locked up somewhere and tortured by the perverted, twisted men that apparently run all the big businesses and lawyer firms. So, since I had to find out about Harriet, I read on. The characters are decently interesting, though Blomkvist is a bit bland. The "girl" herself is okay, though husband Ben says she becomes too amazing by book 2. The setting is different, but you have to be ready for the gruesome details (which aren't actually too detailed). I won't be reading the next book, and I honestly don't get what all the fuss is about.
Now, I'm off on vacation, so inspite of my vow to quit buying books until the shelves are repaired, I've stuffed suitcases full of new books. Here's to happy beach reading, without all the hype.