Not The Object of My Affection (Kissing the Virgin's Mouth)

I have been lazy with my reading the past couple of weeks. There is a new free newspaper in the afternoons and, sadly, I have been more interested in the news (gossip) in that than Donna Gershten's Kissing the Virgin's Mouth. This probably says more about the novel than it does about me, but then again the saga of Lindsay Lohan losing her bag full of £1million worth of jewellery at Heathrow was pretty gripping.

Anyway, I picked this book out at a charity shop because it had an endorsement by Barbara Kingsolver on the front cover. In fact, Gershten was the first recipient of Kingsolver's Bellwether Prize for this novel, and because I consider Kingsolver one of the great female authors of our time--The Poisonwood Bible is an absolute masterpiece--I decided it had to be worth reading.

This fictional memoir of Guadalupe Magdalena Molina Vásquez chronicles a lifetime of feminity, shame, love and family ties in a society dominated by tradition and religion. Set predominately in Mexico, Kissing the Virgin's Mouth explores the culture of double negatives which 'Magda' struggles to overcome. Her strong personality, paired with her ability to use an abuse men, make her an unlikely feminist hero.

The novel is lyrically written, continuously sprinkled with phrases of Spanish and tells a culturally rich (if plotless) story. Nonetheless, I never really connected with the protagonist and found her cold and unattached. Many aspects and situations in the book reminded me of Arundhati Roy's magnificent The God of Small Things, albeit a much inferior Mexican equivalent.

I did not dislike this book--it gave me the opportunity to refresh fragments of my long-forgotten high school Spanish--and I think it created a vivid representation of the extreme poverty vs. extreme wealth society which plagues Mexico. Nonetheless, the fact that I was more inclined to read about Kate Moss and Pete Doherty's on again/off again relationship says a lot.

Sexual Doesn't Necessarily Mean Sexy (The Sexual Life of Catherine M.)

I have never read a more sexual book than Catherine Millet's The Sexual Life of Catherine M. These best-selling memoirs of the well-known Parisian art critic's countless sexual exploits do not disappoint in nature; almost every page is filled with unashamed reminiscences of orgies, fetishes and journeys of lust.

However, I did not feel turned on at any point whilst reading. And nor do I think I was supposed to. I think the Times Literary Supplement review on the back of the book sums it up when it says, "Millet writes extremely well... it is neither pornography nor her coy younger sister, erotica, but a work of libertine philosophy."

I feel The Sexual Life of Catherine M. to be a work of feminist philosophy--a two finger salute at the people who disbelieve a woman can take advantage of a sexual situation in the same way a man can. Although the impact of the book is somewhat lost on me, as I had no knowledge of Millet before reading the book, I can still imagine the shockwaves the book sent through the Paris art world upon its publication in 2001.

Millet testifies that she has had sexual relations with 49 men whose names or identities she knows. The rest (hundreds, possibly thousands) are lost in a blur of orgies and one-night stands. Nonetheless, Millet does not classify herself as a nymphomaniac; a fact that I disagree with considering her need to plan most aspects of her life (from work, to holidays, to mealtimes) around sex.

I did not really enjoy reading this book. Possibly because reading it on public transport was a nightmare as I was always conscious of who was reading over my shoulder. But more likely because I felt a sense of faux arrogance in Millet's writing. I can appreciate the 'manifesto of our times' aspect of the writing, where sex has become wholly separate from love for both sexes, but I still feel as if Millet has deeper issues that have not been resolved (she speaks briefly about her childhood and her obsession with numbers) and that bring about a sense of artificial feminist confidence.

There is no doubt the book was a huge eye-opener for me. I am not a prude, but some scenarios were extremely foreign to me. And although I usually appreciate erotica, I just could not connect with Millet's values on a personal level. The ideal sexual life of one is not necessarily the ideal sexual life of another.

Gripping Title… Shame About the Book (The Abortionist's Daughter)

Okay, well I didn't exactly do the catching up I expected to do the other night. But it wasn't so much out of laziness, as out of writer's block in regards reviewing Elisabeth Hyde's The Abortionist's Daughter. I initially saw this novel advertised by that literary duo (yeah right) Richard & Judy because it is part of their 'Summer Reads' promotion. Although I have enjoyed a couple of R&J endorsed books (Lovely Bones, The Time Traveller's Wife), they don't particularly strike me as the most trustworthy of critics; plus, the term 'Summer Read' really puts me off because it connotates mindless reading on a beach in Spain.

So you could say the odds were stacked up against this book from the start. So call it the prime product placement (R&J have pull, you know), or call it me needing another book to fulfil my buy-1-get-1-1/2 price deal, but I decided to see what TV's 'favourite' married presenters were reading this summer.

The title is very intriguing, it has to be said. It conjures up Vera Drake-esque visions and alludes to a battle of morals and ethics. The blurb on the back supports these ideas, describing the suspicious death of well-known abortion doctor Diana Duprey and the implications it brings upon her family, particularly her daughter Megan who is high on ecstasy when she receives the news.

This book has very little to do with abortion (and even less to do with drugs). Hyde quite obviously does not want to offend any of her readers so she embraces all points of view on the abortion front--a move that obviously doesn't work based on the extreme beliefs on the issue. The drug thing is barely mentioned again and is just a clever ploy to add controversy to a book which nothing more than a detective thriller masquerading under a glorified, 'deep' title.

That isn't to say I didn't enjoy the book. Thrillers are good in their place and perfect for a loud, busy commute, so I actually enjoyed its entertainment value and finished it quite quickly. But I was disappointed by its blandness, especially because I had such high hopes for it based on the title.

Don't judge a book by its cover. No more R&J 'Summer Reads' for me.

We Need to Talk About Gimmicks (We Need to Talk About Kevin)

I recently read Lionel Shriver's We Need to Talk About Kevin, which has been a bestseller in the US and won the Orange Prize for Fiction 2005 in the UK.

The novel is written from the point of view of Eva Khatchadourian in a series of letters to her estranged husband. The focal point of these letters is their teenage son Kevin who committed a school shooting.

This is the type of book that critics and the media love because they can label it as a novel " for our times" and praise it for "tackling a tough issue." Because the present media likes nothing better than keeping its viewers/readers/listeners in a constant state of fear, they can review a book like this in their publications, link it into their features about school shootings, discuss its themes and merits on their radio stations and therefore keep the cycle of scaremongering alive.

I did not dislike this book. I think Shriver an exceptional creator of characters--every single one was detailed and superbly realistic. But characters alone cannot support a story and, although We Need to Talk About Kevin asked a lot of interesting questions about nature vs. nurture and the creation of a killer, I did not think it was enough.

I also thought the letter-writing format was a weak gimmick. Without spoiling the plot, this particular style emphasises a twist in the story, but I am certain Shriver could have come up with a different, stronger way of manipulating that element.

I am afraid book awards are becoming a bit like the Oscars. You can usually guarantee a win for a "holocaust" or "minority overcoming society" movie. In the same way, novels are being awarded for tackling terrorism, school shootings, drugs, and any other issues that "define our era."