Review: New York by Edward Rutherfurd

I have a confession to make... I am a closet history junkie.

I remember as a kid touring Pebble Hill Plantation in Georgia and the Biltmore Estate up in North Carolina and how fascinated I was with these places that seemed frozen in time, a window into another era. I love learning how things used to be, how cultures and places have evolved over the centuries, where customs come from.

So that is one reason I picked up New York by Edward Rutherfurd (the other being that I am obsessed with New York City right now given that that is where “the novel” is set). Rutherfurd has made a career out of taking a place (London, Ireland, Russia, to name a few) and telling its history in novel form. As someone who loves history, but hates boring history books that just regurgitate names and dates and events, I thought I’d give it a shot.

New York was wonderful.

Rutherfurd begins in the 1600s with the Van Dyck/Master family and follows them through the generations to the present day, introducing other families along the way. The most interesting thing to me, was how the city itself becomes a character in the book as you watch it grow from a sleepy Dutch settlement through wars, blizzards, riots, booms and busts into the center of commerce and culture it is today.

Another thing Rutherfurd has captured perfectly is the indomitable American spirit, the dream of millions who have come to this country from oppression and poverty in hopes of a better life. The story of the Caruso family was particularly touching and true to life. These people seemed so real to me, emigrating from Italy to the U.S., suffering through tragedies and ultimately achieving the American dream.

The last few chapters deal with the 9/11 terrorist attacks on the World Trade Center. I have felt other works that portrayed the events of 9/11 as being exploitative. That day is still so fresh in our minds that I feel it’s often used as a cheap way to evoke emotion. But Rutherfurd handles the material respectfully and weaves it so seamlessly into the storylines that I had no qualms about his including the attacks in the novel. And honestly, any history of New York City would be incomplete without touching on that day.

Edward Rutherfurd literally brought the history of New York City to life for me, and I highly recommend this book to any other closet history junkies out there.

You can't judge a book by its cover...

Or can you...

My boss often says that if she doesn't like the cover of a book, she won't pick it up. (She will set this rule aside, however, if someone tells her the book is actually very good.)

As an aspiring novelist, I often dream of what the covers of my books might look like. I am very much aware that the author usually has very little input into the design of the cover, and I wonder what it must feel like to put your hard work into the hands of another person to package for the world to see.

I was at the bookstore yesterday and noticed three fun new covers to novels that were very eye catching (all from Penguin books):

I love the bright pink flamingoes on this edition of Alice in Wonderland. Attractive and a nice, subtle referernce to the flamingo croquet played in the novel.

As much as I love great literature, I also very much enjoyed Bridget Jones Diary and very much like this new tattoo inspired cover.

Since Pride and Prejudice is my favorite novel of all time, I am glad to see this fun update to the cover. (If you see it in the store, you should pick it up and take a closer look. There are flaps inside the covers that extend the scenes. Very clever.)

Going back to judging a book by its cover, these are two I picked up based solely on their artwork. They are now two of my favorite novels:

If you've only seen the movie, you must read the book. SO much better.

The best love-to-hate heroine since Scarlett O'Hara.

What are your favorite book covers? What novels did you pick up because you liked the cover?

Time

So July was insanely busy on all fronts (personal and professional). Thankfully, it looks like things will be slowing down a bit in August, so hopefully I will be able to get back the "the novel." But for now, I want to talk about time. I've written a lot on this blog about how little time I seem to have for myself and how, when I finally get an hour or two, it's hard to use it to do something productive as opposed to say, vegging out on the couch and watching television.

Just so you know I'm not joking, here is what my Monday through Friday look like...

6 a.m. Alarm goes off and I hit the snooze.
6:09 a.m. Alarm goes off again and I hit the snooze again.
6:18 a.m. Alarm goes off (again) and I hit the snooze (again).
6:27 a.m. Alarm goes off and I hit the snooze, look at the clock, (curse) and get out of bed.
7:10 a.m. Kiss my hubby and baby goodbye and head to the office.
7:30 a.m. to Noon Work (read/pull newsclips, answer e-mail/voicemail, editing, etc.)
Noonish Lunch, typically eaten at my desk or I'll use this hour to run errands.
1 to 4:30 p.m. Work (editing, writing, planning, meetings).
4:30 p.m. Leave work to pick up my daughter from daycare.
5:45 p.m. Finally get home, start dinner.
6:30 p.m. Eat dinner with the hubs and baby.
7 p.m. Bathtime (my favorite part of my day)
7:30 p.m. Put the baby to bed and do whatever chores need doing (dishes, laundry, whatever)
8 to 9:30 p.m. Time for myself (typically watch television with the hubs or get in bed to read)
9:30 to 10 p.m. Bedtime

Weekends are, of course, less hectic. In fact, I make a point of making sure that on weekend mornings we can all hang out in our pajamas and eat a big breakfast. I also make a point of spending as much time as possible with my daughter since our time is so limited during the week. For those out there without children, spending hours reading Dr. Suess or pushing a two year old on a swing may seem like a boring way to spend the weekend, but, honestly, there is nothing I would rather be doing. Spending time with my husband and daughter, even if we're just shopping at Target, is the highlight of my week.

The part where the guilt comes in is when my daughter goes down for her nap after lunch. I always have this debate in my mind whether to use this magic hour or two to write or to watch a movie/read/nap. Most of the time the latter activities win and then the weekend is over and I feel guilty for not getting any writing done. Sigh. It is a vicious circle.

So what do you all think? Am I being too hard on myself?

Better go, my daughter is waking up from her nap...