The Particular Sadness of Lemon Cake by Aimee Bender

The Particular Sadness of Lemmon Cake by Aimee Bender was different than I expected, but I enjoyed it all the same. I first heard about the book several years ago on npr, and picked it up at a book store in hopes of fulfilling my memoir/nonfiction requirement. As I started reading, it followed the plot line I anticipated—a young girl claims to identify the feelings of the chef when she ate his or own food. Slightly bored by the narrator’s rants about how all food disappointed her, except for those from vending machines, the novel abruptly turned into a fulfillment of my fantasy requirement. I’m not sure exactly when it was that I realized that the book most certainly was not a true account of the author’s childhood—perhaps it was when she correctly discovered her mother was having an affair by biting into a homemade dinner. Maybe it was when she found her brother, after he disappeared for weeks, in his apartment with chair legs in his shoes, rather than his own flesh. Or maybe it was when her father told her that it seemed everyone in their family had a “power” of some sort, which caused him to never enter a hospital. He felt he would discover his power, which would bring unhappiness to him as it did to his own father.
As a reader, I never actually figured out what supernatural ability a hospital would bring about the father, nor did I really find out why the brother disappeared or why he was missing legs that one time. Similar to several other ideas in the novel, much was left unfinished. There were too many loose ends, in my opinion. Although the father’s issue was never divulged or even hinted, I admit I did enjoy pondering why the brother acted the way he did. From what the author did reveal, I drew my own conclusions which, looking back on, was part of the fun of reading.

Knife's Edge

Knife’s Edge by Malorie Blackman, a novel hypothesizing a world in which people with black skin (called Crosses) are superior than those with white skin (Naughts), was equally as exciting as its prequel, Naughts and Crosses. Although both books switched narrators with every chapter, the reader learned the aftermath of the first book from a different perspective. The first book was narrated by Callum, a naught and by his friend and love, Sephy, a cross. The book resulted in the execution of Callum, obviously eliminating him from the list of narrators in the sequel. Having the more one sided view of similar scenarios changed the readers’ minds as they read the sequel.
The only aspect of Knife’s Edge that I disliked was the very ending. After Sephy holds her baby, Rose, a bit too tight, she begins to choke. As Rose’s grandmother comes to perform CPR, the book ends with the grandmother shouting “please breathe, Rose”, leaving Rose’s vitality ambiguous. I understand the rationale behind leaving the reader with something to ponder, but I found this ending to be more of an annoyance than an excitement.

The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo--- to the end.

The last few hundred pages of The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo by Steig Larsson brought a much welcomed new intensity and excitement to the book. Although the book had its slow spots, the very end of the book had the reader on the edge of their seat. Although I enjoyed the surprise of finding out that Martin Vanger was the serial killer and rapist, I was slightly annoyed about the lack of foreshadowing up to the event in Martin’s basement. I realize the book is intended to be a thriller, rather than a mystery, but it would have been far more satisfying to be just slightly suspicious of Martin Vanger. I did, however, appreciate the surprise of Harriet being alive. I look forward to discover the interactions between Berger, Harriet and Salander in books to come. The three women seem to be polar opposites, but all seem to have unique relationships and feelings about one another. I can’t wait to read the rest of the series to see how this progression plays out.