The Metamorphosis

Oh, Gregor. The extra four legs suit you so very well.

I have now read Franz Kafka's novella The Metamorphosis twice. The first was shortly after I received it for my sixteenth birthday, way back in the eighteenth century (really. I'm old). It was sitting on a pile of books next to my nightstand table and I decided to read it. It was only 39 pages long, and I thought that I would feel rather clever afterward.




Things went quite according to plan. An hour and 39 pages later, I went downstairs for a snack, feeling rather clever. The book migrated its way down to the basement, with all the other books that have been read and no longer merit coveted bookshelf space.

Then, about a week ago, The Metamorphosis popped into my head again. "Good grief," I said to myself. "Kafka was really on to something there." I then embarked on a frantic, full-scale, adjective-ridden search through my house, eventually finding the book hiding like a gremlin in a pile of Junie B. Jones books.

I scuttled upstairs quicker than a hippo. I spent the next hour rereading the novella.

I don't know why I missed it the first time, but The Metamorphosis is truly a work of genius. Honestly. It makes me want to learn better German so I can read it in its original form. (Also, being able to curse in German is pretty badass¹.) Kafka manages to take about the most ridiculous premise ever, a man, Gregor Samsa, turning overnight into a giant cockroach, and turning it into a beautiful, touching, human tale. He is in touch with the human world in a way that few writers are, and the novella is wonderfully grounded in physical details. The intimate restless beauty of a young woman, the close confines of a room, and the wistful strains of violin music all come alive to the reader. Amidst all these physical details, the deterioration of Gregor's family is hauntingly delineated. The accessibility of the work also deserves praise; there is no extraneous prose, and the story is easily comprehended by anyone able to read proficiently.

In short, Kafka has created a masterpiece in under 40 pages. The Metamorphosis has leapt, literally in the space of an hour, from a book I seldom thought about to one of my top 5 books of all time. Congratulations, Kafka. Please drop me a line any time to claim your prize of a giant hug and some home-baked cockroach-and-apple pie. You deserve it.

Rating: 8/8

Tea: I have a confession. In my excitement to reread this book, I didn't actually drink any tea. HOWEVER, if I were to read the book a third time (which I most likely will), I would have something strong and black, like English Breakfast tea. Cinnamon apple is also an appropriately ironic choice.

¹Scheiße! See? Didn't your respect for me just go up a little?

A Brief History of Time

Stephen Hawking's A Brief History of Time is an absolute gem. I would like to begin this review with a personal account of my relationship with the book.

I first read this cogent account of the universe's formation, inner mechanisms, and remaining mysteries when I was thirteen years old. I fell in love. This book was the single most important text in my decision to pursue knowledge of theoretical physics and cosmology. This book was the first of many popular physics books I read. Following my experience with A Brief History of Time, I read The Elegant Universe, The View from the Center of the Universe, Entanglement, Galileo's Finger, and subscribed to Discover and Scientific American. This trail of physics knowledge, which began with Professor Hawking, ultimately led to my choice to enroll at MIT to study physics.

I do not tell the reader this story with the intent to impress my own intelligence upon him. I don't think that I was a particularly brilliant eighth grader, and I think that any other 13-year-old willing to invest the time I did in the book would understand it as well as I did. I mention my age at the time of my reading the book to show the reader how successfully Hawking manages to explain these mind-boggling concepts to a reader who is neither particularly well-educated nor well-versed in physics. I can reread this book now, with two years of physics classes and rather more years of life experience behind me, and gain much more from the book than I did then. Nevertheless, Hawking managed to convey enough of the wonder of the universe to get me hooked even then.

Despite currently being very well-versed in the language of theoretical physics, and despite having read innumerable books written for the layman on physics, my understanding of many difficult concepts can be traced back, more or less unchanged, to Professor Hawking's clear explanations. His language is comfortable and easy to understand, and the diagrams included manage to elucidate rather than obscure the subject matter.

The only problem A Brief History of Time is that it is now rather outdated. It was originally published in 1988, and there have been a few changes in the understanding of the universe since that time. String theory and the Higgs model of the universe, for example, are concepts that do not make a significant appearance in the book, simply because they were not widely accepted at the time of publication.

I would like to note that there has been a more recent edition released. I have not read this edition; it may address some of these omissions.

Nevertheless, Hawking's account remains the single best book for anyone with a limited background in physics who would like to learn more.

Rating: 7.5/8

Tea: Something mentally stimulating and refreshing, without the artificial rush of caffeine. I suggest ginger or mint.

Child 44, The Secret Speech

These two delightful Russian spy novels, by the delightful non-Russian spy author Tom Rob Smith, are two of my new favorite books. I have chosen to group them together, dear reader, because they follow the same characters, have very similar writing structure, and have the same sort of madcap adrenaline-infused feeling to them. Most importantly, the reader can drink the same sorts of teas while reading both.

Smith's debut, "Child 44", was a book I checked out of the local library after hearing it mentioned on NPR. I checked out the sequel, "The Secret Speech", almost immediately after finishing its predecessor. Smith's books are both set in mid-20th century Russia, and he had performed meticulous research on this world. From a starving town on the Russian steppes to a prison ship bound for the Gulags, every setting in the books is vivid and true. It is a very educated reader that emerges on the other side of Smith's books.

And yet, Smith has managed to convey all this historical information in the most heart-pounding of manners. His characters are delightfully robust, his crimes deliciously depraved, and his plot twists (usually) caught me off-guard. Best of all, the pace is so quick that I was never left bored for even a paragraph. Despite my various work and school-related obligations, I devoured each book in just a few days.

Of course, the books do have their flaws. The breakneck pace leaves little room for flowery prose, so the reader's inner poet is left somewhat neglected. The plot twists are a little too neatly executed at times, and the characters occasionally act irrationally (for example, I will never quite undersand Fraera's actions in the last few chapters of "The Secret Speech"). Despite these minor flaws, however, I enjoyed both books heartily and would unreservedly recommend them to anyone looking for a good action read.

Rating: 7.5/8

Tea: The masculine severity of these books merits something powerful and bitter, like strong black tea without milk or sugar. Hu Kwa, although certainly not geographically accurate, suits the mood, adding a mysterious smokey hint to the tea (and the books). Don't stress out too much over the tea, though -- I love these books so much that I doubt even the most egregious tea choice could ruin the experience.

Shadow of the Hegemon

Upon reading the title of this entry, the astute reader may say something caustic along the lines of "Katie Roe, Shadow of the Hegemon is the second book in a series that is itself a 'sequel series' of sorts to the 'Ender's Game' series. Because I worship you and only ever read books you write about, it is irrational for you to expect me to have read the previous books necessary to make any sense of this book. Please remedy the situation immediately".

Well, my dear hypothetical and irritating reader, I have one thing to say to you: go away. If you post on my boards, I will dance a momentary dance of joy because I have a reader, and will promptly proceed to delete your comments. I will perform voodoo on your screenname. I will tear my hair and cast hexes upon you and your logic. Logic has no place here.

With that brief annoyance out of the way, let me proceed to an analyisis of the book.

I have to say, I was disappointed. I wasn't expecting great literature a la Anna Karenina out of Orson Scott Card, but I was hoping for an exciting read with several characters I could relate to and cared about.

Unfortunately, Card has not lived up to the expectations I formed after reading "Ender's Game". The plot wasn't particularly original, as much of it had been alluded to in the Ender quartet, and the "recycled" characters from the Ender series often didn't act consistently considering their personalities and histories set up in "Ender's Game" and so on. The characters qualities and flaws are outlined in the convenient table below:

Characters I Like:
Achilles -- Kind of an interesting villain. He's intelligent, which I like, and predictably psychotic, which I like even better. Best of all, he doesn't appear in the Ender series, so Card can't mess up an established character.

Sister Carlotta -- Who knew nuns could be so cool?

Petra -- Petra is the one character from the Ender series about whom I actually enjoy reading in this book. She was a very minor character in "Ender's Game" and never appeared afterwards, so Card had more liberties with her than he did with larger Ender characters, like Peter and Bean. The traits she exhibited in "Ender's Game" seem to have carried over to "Shadow of the Hegemon", making the second series actually enhance her character, instead of destroying a character Card actually developed in the first series.

Characters I don't Like:
Bean -- Unfortunately, Bean is kind of a big one not to like. I like that Bean is intelligent, occasionally funny, and genetically flawed (I'm a sucker for the genetically manipulated underdog), but I don't like that he's starting to show emotions all of a sudden, basically without emotion. Frankly, I liked Bean better as a robot.

Peter -- Probably the worst character in the whole series. I loved Peter in "Ender's Game". He was so brilliantly amoral and cruel. However, because Bean allies himself with Peter in "Shadow", Peter obviously has to show a few redeeming qualities. These redeeming qualities
ruin the character and make him seem more like a pathetic adolescent than the staggeringly logical sadistic genius who made "Ender's Game" so interesting.

Ender's Parents -- Same sort of idea. They show different traits in "Ender's Game" than here. The original version may not be better, but it still destroys the continuity if they're too different.

In short -- this book is great if you're a science fiction and/or Orson Scott Card fan and are looking for an easy and mildly amusing distraction while you look for some real quality books to read. Otherwise, don't bother.

Rating: 2/8

Tea: You need something to provide the excitement that the book fails to provide. I suggest something like "Lemon Zinger" (Celestial Seasonings) or possibly mint. Mexican hot chocolate is also a good idea if you're not in a tea mood. (Actually, Mexican hot chocolate is always a good idea. Drink some. Now.)

The Bookseller of Kabul

by Asne Seierstad

The fall of the Taliban offered Western journalists broad access to Afghanistan for the first time in years. Asne Seierstad took full advantage of this access when she lived with a family in Kabul for a year in 2001 and 2002. She wrote a book about that year: The Bookseller of Kabul.

What makes this book so special is that Seierstad leaves herself out of it entirely. Other than a brief introduction explaining her project, the author herself does not appear as a character even once. Instead, she allows the actions and words of the individual family members to speak for themselves. She allows Sultan, the bookseller, describe the process of taking a sixteen-year-old girl for his second wife. The book becomes charged with youthful excitement when Seierstad writes about Mansur, Sultan's 16-year-old son, venturing out of Kabul for the time on a religious pilgrimmage. In the chapters describing the life of Leila, Sultan's 19-year-old sister, the book becomes downtrodden and somewhat wistful. It was Seierstad's luck that she chose such a large and interesting family to write about; however, it was her talent that executed the tale in such a seamless and intriguing manner.

This book's faults are few; however, Seierstad does create a somewhat one-dimensional portrait of some of the characters. In a family as large as Sultan's (Sultan has ten siblings, a mother, two wives, and several children, in addition to various in-laws and business partners), this is almost inevitable. However, Seierstad could, I think, have been a bit more sympathetic towards characters such as Sonya, Sultan's 16-year-old wife, who is portrayed as lazy and dull, with no redeeming qualities. The book also leaves out some important historical information. A more complete introduction describing Kabul under Soviet rule, under the Afghan communist party, and under the Taliban would be welcome and informative.

Rating: 6/8

Tea: If you really want the authentic experience, I recommend tea similar to the tea drunk in Afghanistan. You can find an easy recipe here. Otherwise, I recommend lemon tea with a lot of milk.

The Secret Life of Bees

by Sue Monk Kidd

Sue Monk Kidd is actually amazing. "The Secret Life of Bees" is heavy in subject matter, but Kidd makes the book so readable that the experience is entirely enjoyable.

Kidd is one of those amazingly multitalented authors who does not rely on her plot to sustain her weak characters, or vice versa. The plot concerns itself with a 14-year-old girl, Lily, who breaks her black nanny, Rosaleen, out of prison after Rosaleen insults three dangerously racist men. Lily and Rosaleen follow a name on the back of a photograph -- Tiburon, SC -- that Lily's dead mother left her, eventually ending up in the home of three eclectic black female beekeepers. Lily learns about bees, race, religion, and love during her time in Tiburon.

What really brings the book to life, however, is the characters. Lily is such a full character that she could sustain a book on her own -- but she doesn't need to. She is accompanied by August, May, June, and Rosaleen, all of whom are nearly as dimensional as Lily herself. Although there are a few disappointing moments (the men of the novel, most notably Lily's father T. Ray, seem to have basically one defining characteristic and no shading), the novel is stunning overall. I highly recommend this book to anyone interested in learning about the '60s, the South, race relations, or love. I recommend this book even more highly to anyone in search of a good story told well.

Rating: 7/8

Tea: Something robust and feminine. I recommend vanilla black tea, with honey of course. If you're feeling adventurous, you can try oolong tea. However, the oolong-honey combination is a decidedly unusual taste, and is only for those who venture beyond Tetley on a regular basis.

Nickel and Dimed: On (Not) Getting By in America

Barbara Ehrenreich

In "Nickel and Dimed" Barbara Ehrenreich embarks on an extraordinary exercise in underground journalism. She decides that, for several months, she will enter the "unskilled" work force in three different states and try to earn enough money to support herself. Although I myself would sooner massage a menopausal alligator than do such a thing, I found the concept of the book sufficiently intriguing to check it out of my local (by which I mean school) library and read it.

The book was surprisingly funny, harrowing, and rewarding. I have existed in an isolated upper-middle-class bubble for my entire life, with a few exceptions here and there. I knew the working poor existed, but like pop rocks and ebola, I didn't give them much thought in my day to day life.

I was amazed to read that Barbara Ehrenreich could barely find housing with the wages of her full-time minimum-wage job. She had every advantage in the world -- she started off with $1,200 in each city, she had a car and gasoline, she was white and spoke fluent, unaccented English. She was healthy and had no dependents to look after. Best of all, if everything started going wrong and she couldn't pay her rent payments (as actually did happen in Minnesota), she had a cushy "real life" in the upper middle class to return to.

Even with all these advantages, Ms. Ehrenreich found each bill, rent payment, and grocery visit excruciatingly hard to meet. She found herself struggling to break even each month, and saving any money was practically out of the question. She discovered that the vast majority of people she met had either multiple jobs or a partner working full-time -- single women with only one full-time job often lived in motels or in their cars.

The best part about this book is that the author is funny. Although the entire book makes the typical member of the middle- or upper-class cringe with guilt, Ehrenreich manages to make her genuine and witty personality shine through. By the end of the book, I felt inspired to make a change, not indicted. This book is highly recommended for anyone interested in the struggle of the American lower class.

Rating: 6/8

Tea: You need something upper-class and bitter while reading this book. Ginger tea is ideal.

By Way of Introduction

My name is Katie. If I were a book, I would be something in the sub-madeup-genre "Quirky Fiction" (which includes books like "The Eyre Affair", "St. Lucy's Home for Girls Raised by Wolves", and "The Elegance of the Hedgehog"). If I were a tea, I would be something minty and refreshing. If I were a person, I would be a high school senior with a fondness for everything listed above.

With a roof over my head, a college acceptance letter in hand, and no bills to pay for at least another four years, I have few things to worry about. One of the things I do worry about is the matching of books with tea. Have you ever tried to read an Agatha Christie novel while drinking chamomile tea? It ruins the whole experience. Ditto for "My Antonia" with ginger, or "Catch-22" with chai.

After having ruined my enjoyment of "Ender's Game" by trying to mix it with green tea, I realized I had to do something. I had found my calling. I would find the perfect tea to accompany each book I gave a darn about, and I would share this information with the world.

World, you're welcome.

Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde

OK, so "Jekyll and Hyde" isn't the same suspenseful page-turner it was a hundred years ago. In fact, the novella has integrated itself into mainstream society to the point that reading it may seem unnecessary. After all, beyond the obvious "plot twist" that has become synonymous with the novel, what makes the novella worthwhile?



I would agree that, for most situations, an extensive knowledge of "Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde" is not required. Actually reading "Jekyll and Hyde" will not expand your reference frame in the same way as, say, a bag of chocolate chips will expand your cookie dough. However, Stevenson is something of a clever clogs, and reading the novella in its entirety will lead, with a little thought, to some interesting insights concerning Victorian society. There are other reasons to read "Jekyll and Hyde" as well: you can brag about it at cocktail parties, you can chortle at the confoundment of the minor characters, and the whole affair will only take a few hours out of your afternoon.


Rating: 4/8


--edit -- As per Edwina's suggestion I have expanded this section. Thank you, Miss Ogg.

Tea: You're going to need something tight-laced and English here. Sugar is, of course, out of the question. To get in touch with your repressed Victorian side, I would recommend a strong black breakfast blend sans milk.