Book Review: The Institute by Stephen King

Photo Credit: The Hardcover's Cover, from Goodreads

I've got all of King's books, and I've been writing that his stuff lately is okay, but that we need to accept that the genius is...resting. Producing, but resting. I've been writing that his stuff is "compulsively readable" for so long now, I can't remember when that wasn't the best that I had to say. REVIVAL was a rare exception, but for a long time before that, and now for a long time after, "compulsively readable," and that I read his newest book in X number days, were the best I could say. But then I read that The New York Times, and that Kirkus, had given THE INSTITUTE rave reviews. They said he was back to form, that he hadn't written about kids this well since IT (but with the release of IT Part 2, what else would they say?), and that this novel was extremely well structured--all rare positive review bits, especially from the NYT and Kirkus, who are not always enamored with King's stuff. So I bought it, as I would've anyway, because I own all of his books in hardcover, and because I knew I'd read it swiftly (check) and that I'd at least find it compulsively readable. But this time--THIS TIME!!!--I felt confident I'd have more positive things to say.

And, well...I read THE INSTITUTE's 561 pages in about 2 1/2 days. And...it's compulsively readable.

It isn't IT, and he doesn't write about kids as well in this as he did in IT. It's possible that this is the best he's written about them since IT, but how many of his recent books have only been about kids? Maybe, none of them---since IT.

The book starts off with a drifter, and a small town, and how the drifter ingratiates himself in this small town...but King has done that millions of times, and can possibly write that now in his sleep. (Which he possibly did, here.) Then it switches rather abruptly to The Institute, which seems suspiciously like The Shop, from FIRESTARTER. But this ain't FIRESTARTER, and the baddies from The Shop are much more so than the ones here. (There are similarities, too. There's a John Rainbird character here, of the opposite gender, but Rainbird was a badass that nobody here approaches.) Nobody here is Charlie McGee, either. Those were better written characters than anyone here. I mean that in the kindest of all positive ways.

This book is really about Hannah Arendt's "banality of evil." The whole book, in fact, could've been from the point of view of those who work for The Institute, and maybe that would've been a better book. (Sounds like a helluva good idea to me.) Here, there's a cleaning lady who could've been fleshed out better, and at the end there's an 81-year old woman who seemed very interesting. Why did she stick around, and with such gusto? THE INSTITUTE tries to go there, but mostly doesn't, which is a shame. The baddest badass of them all gets short shrift at the end, to the extent that King himself suddenly seems to give up on her, and all she gets is the other characters calling her "the queen bitch." She was badder than that, and deserved better, if you know what I mean. She could've been this book's Rainbird. The one who gets that honor doesn't deserve it, and in fact seems kind of lame. At the end, you won't care too much what happens to him.

In the meantime, the kids are drawn out well enough, and you will care about what happens to them. But, A) they're kids, so that's maybe automatic, and B) it's really their book, so they get the most airtime. Still, you get caught up in the going's-on, and it is compelling in a slow-moving train kind of way. It'll pass the time, and it is compulsively readable.

But it could've been so much more. The people who work at The Institute have their reasons for doing so, and King strongly insinuates that these reasons are compelling--but never appropriate, of course. The ends don't justify the means, here, and that's really the point of the book. But why do such people work for such banal evil? Many of them are obviously deranged, but some are maybe almost good people, or those who could've been. This book could've been essentially the same story, with that theme been better pondered and shown. It's never answered, not even close, but King seems like he wants to go there, that he wants to try and answer it--but then just drops it.

And so ultimately it's a good read. 561 pages in just short of 3 days means the book is good on some level. Yet maybe this is what's lacking in King's work now. The why. The big themes. King was never "deep," per se, which he takes pride in, and on some levels he's right. He wants to entertain more than he wants to instruct (he could've stayed on as an English teacher if that's all he'd wanted), but the fact remains that THE SHINING, CARRIE, IT and many others had more depth to them, more heft, without ever sacrificing story. Lately his stuff is about 95% story, to the exclusion of perhaps all else, and that's why they seem lesser. CARRIE, for example, never tried to explain how religious mania could screw up a family and a kid, but it sure did show it very well. THE SHINING showed how a very, very flawed man could redeem himself to save his wife and son. THE SHINING therefore had a hefty thing to say about personal redemption. I could go on...

King's stuff now frankly just lacks this heft. It's all story, all the time, and it doesn't have too much to show, or to say, about things that it could, and should, show and say about. In this case, Arendt's "banality of evil." That's too bad, because it could've easily gone there, and it would've made this book a lot better. It's not as bad as the Bill Hodges fiascoes, but...you won't want to read this one again. It'll sit in my bookcase with all the others, but...it probably won't come out of it again.

Too bad. THE INSTITUTE is okay, but it could've been one of his better ones in a long, long time.

Surrender, New York by Caleb Carr

Photo: Hardcover front, from its Wikipedia page

Alternately good, and bad, well-written, and lazy, erudite, and at times pedantic, this book has got to be the most Jekyll-and-Hyde I've ever read. It really almost defies explanation. Some of the writing almost approaches The Alienist, but this book overall is nowhere near that great book, frustrating because it's the same author, and it's obvious that it could go there, but...

The book opens well enough, I guess, but it takes awhile for the crime to show itself. When it does, it's well-written and atmospheric. You won't think of a mobile home quite the same way again. One Goodreads reviewer hated it, but it's well-done. All of the crime scenes are well-written and thoroughly imagined--one of them perhaps a little too much so, involving a baby, a toilet, and a guy who gets shot 46 times. There's overkill there, and it isn't with the 46 shots. The ending is satisfying; in fact, it works better than it has any right to, but it's a case of been there and done that for me, the main character and one of the cops.

So that's all well and good. What wasn't:

--Normally long books don't bother me. I'm okay with long, leisurely strolls of a book, when it's okay that it sometimes takes circuitous paths. Some Stephen King books are like that. Lots of books 1850-1950 were like that. The Alienist and its sequel are a little like that, though they're tight and well-written a helluva lot more often than they're not. But this one is bloated solely because Caleb Carr falls in love, lazily, with his main character, his sidekick, a young boy who joins them, and a cheetah. (Yes.)  Fact is, with a little editing, the locker-room jiving between Dr. Jones and Dr. Li could've been tolerable. But there's no editing, from the publisher, the writer, or from the characters themselves--and they become sophomoric, boring and an absolute trial. Carr was maybe trying for a bit of 48 Hours-like dialogue here, but Jones and Li aren't Nolte and Murphy, and it's an eye-rolling mess. You don't like them together. You don't like how they talk. You wish they'd shut up and grow up and for God's sake shut up again. Curb some of their painful banter that Carr clearly enjoys and you lop off a good 50, 75 maybe 100 pages. After page 475 or so, I began skipping over it and just looking for the plot points.

--You'd think I was a prude when I say that the sheer number of f-bombs (and similar words) defies belief. I mean, there are hundreds of them, perhaps more, in this almost 600 page book. I'm not kidding when I guess that there's at least, on average, one per page. I'm guessing there are about 750 such bombs, and they're said by two doctors and a young kid. There are so many of them that I kept imagining Annie Wilkes's diatribe against lazy swearing in writing. Her speech perfectly fits this book. There are that many, and by God she may have been right. And I was incredibly happy to see that literally every review I read--from Michael Connelly's very favorable review in the New York Times, to other appreciative reviews, to some scathing Goodreads reviews--they all mention the sheer unbelievable number of obscenities. And we all wondered, How could Caleb Carr not hear them? How could he not notice how many there are, and how bad it is?

--The love interest for the almost 40-year old main character is beautiful, blonde--and 20. (Yes.) Need I say more? Carr's descriptions of their interactions and budding romance simply aren't believable.

--Kudos to bringing to the nation's attention the existence of "throwaway children," which in my job I've seen more often than I'd care to remember. But the (bloated, overlong) plot device of a governor, an Assistent D.A. and various other relevant law enforcement and political figures covering it up because they're afraid it'll make them look bad? It's been a problem since the 80s, and it's already made every state look bad. Simply not believable.

--Long, windy novels work when the narration is folksy and believable, or the characters are very likable. Neither is the case here. So it's not a long, leisurely walk. It's a stumble. When you agree to read a long tome, which Carr clearly likes to write, and that's fine, then you're readily sacrificing the time and you're willing to go along with a narrator, wherever he takes you, which you're aware could be all over the place. But, again, the plot has to be agreeably labyrinthine, which this isn't. Or it has to be agreeably written and smooth and light as a feather, which this isn't. Or the main character and his world have to be very likable, or at least very relatable--and they're not. Frankly, all of the reviewers I read agreed that Dr. Jones isn't all that agreeable a guy. This is bad because a) it makes it even more unbelievable that a beautiful 20-year old would fall for him so quickly, and b) because it's obvious that Jones is a stand-in for Carr himself, so in essence we're not agreeably relating to the author as a person. Makes you feel bad.

And so you might be wondering why I rated it 3 out of 5, which means I liked it. I suppose I would've given it 2 1/2, if I could have, and maybe even 2, but overall the promise of it, and of Carr's potential, kept me going, until I couldn't take Jones and Li anymore and I started skimming. I have to admit that I just read the last 125 pages to see who done it, and to see what happens to Ambyr, to be honest with you. Lucas, too, I suppose, though he was too precocious for me. The last half feels like maybe it was mailed in, though the resolution is written much better than the 100 or so pages before it.

So don't be looking for Carr's earlier, better works, like The Alienist, because you won't find it here. Though this was light years better than the one previous to this, an incredibly long, convoluted, badly-written mess about a forgotten culture in the middle of the German forest, and really one of the more clear Did Not Finish I've ever had. That one wasn't a book to be put aside lightly--it was to be thrown with great force. (Apologies to Dorothy Parker.) Anyway, here's to hoping that Carr goes back to the beginning, and really analyzes why Lazlo's books worked, and his latest hasn't.

This Week in Review: Trump, Bill O'Reilly, Aaron Hernandez, Tom Brady and Sean Spicer

Photo: from isitfunnyoroffensive.com, here (at your own risk). United's newest "passenger removal specialist."

Hey, it's been a few weeks! Mostly my absence was due to an illness that felt like a minor-league flu, but wasn't (I think). Fever up to 101 for a few days; really bad throat and ear pain; fuzzy and congested head (which I have normally anyway). I still have a lingering minor cough and fuzziness/congestion and ear pain, a few weeks and two different antibiotics later. Twice a doctor has shined a light into my right ear and said, "Whoa, there's a lot of water build-up there." Could've been worse, I could've met United's newest employee, pictured above, who calls himself a "passenger removal specialist."

Anyway, there's been a lot of crap lately to get my mind off it. Among these:

--Bill O'Reilly, who's made a (lucrative) living blowharding about "values" and telling people how to behave, has been paying off women over the last 15 years so they don't sue him for sexual harassment. To the tune of $13 million, that is, and I'll bet that's conservative. (See what I did there?) What a hypocrite! Is it me, or does it seem that everyone who makes a living telling others how they should live is a hypocritical dirtbag?

--And even then, Fox only let him go after the sponsors started pulling out. Which shows you it's, unfortunately, not about sexual harassment, but about dollars.

--By the way, O'Reilly's publisher, Henry Holt, has stated that it will still work with him. "Our plans have not changed," Holt said in an email, according to the New York Times. O'Reilly's latest best-selling book titles: Killing Lincoln, Killing Kennedy, Killing Jesus, Killing Patton, and Killing Reagan. I am not making those up. Read into the similarities what you will, but you don't need to read books from Henry Holt Publishing anymore, right? I don't (if I do already). I don't normally advocate not reading, but we don't need to support this dirtbag. There's plenty of other things to read.

Photo: from his own Wikipedia page. 

--And in any dictionary, next to the word "smug."

--Bill O'Reilly was given a severance package as high as $25 million, by the way. Add to that the approximate $13 million Fox paid to women he sexually harassed, and that's $38 million Fox had paid to kiss his butt, not counting his actual salary. His latest contract, just recently signed, was for $18 million a year--which he won't collect. Fox had an out-clause: it was void if any new allegations and lawsuits were filed against him. Hmmm...You think Fox knew anything?

--And this is after Fox Chairman Roger Ailes had to resign over his own sexual harassment woes. Despite this, Fox was still willing to pay the money for O'Reilly and sweep him under the rug. Rather than clean house all at once, Fox was willing to let it go on.

--And Fox has been putting on conservative "news" for years about proper values and behavior. Sexually harassing women? Check. Gay marriage? No.

--Scumbags.

--Speaking of scumbags, so Aaron Hernandez was (somehow) acquitted of double-homicide, then hanged himself in his cell with a bedsheet, the same day the Super Bowl-winning Patriots visited the White House. If you think that's a coincidence, I want to drink your Kool-Aid. This is what narcissistic sociopaths do, right to the bitter end. That'll show them, he thought.

Photo: from the Huffington Post, at this website


--He also scribbled John 3:16 on his forehead. It reads: "For God so loved the world, as to give his only begotten Son; that whosoever believeth in [H]im may not perish, but may have life everlasting." That's a narcissistic That'll show 'em, too. Again, all about him. That's not religious belief. That's self-importance. And power. Actual religious people are the ones not killing people. This act is an offense to every Christian out there. Narcissistic sociopaths will do anything, and believe anything, that benefits them. Unless you think he was actually seriously religious. Again, I'll take a glass of that.

Photo: Tom and Gisele, from the International Business Times, at this website. These two are so used to the limelight that they know they'll look better together if they're looking in opposite directions.

--I normally don't give a damn about the politics or beliefs of my favorite athletes, but I have to give kudos to Tom Brady, who at the last minute pulled out of a visit to the White House this week. He'll deny it was a political move, but a) Gisele posted an anti-Trump tweet this week (and as Gisele goes, Tom Brady goes); and b) Tom Brady has been quoted many times supporting Trump, speaking for him, and basically being Defense Exhibit A of why I don't care about the politics of my favorite athletes (See also: Curt Schilling). But to blow off Trump at the last second on a worldwide stage is a gutsy move, because we all know it will anger him. And it speaks very loudly, no matter what PC spin all three will put on it. I don't know why he did it (except, as Gisele goes, so does Tom Brady), but I'm glad he did. I might actually try his workout and diet plans, too. Which are really out there.

--Prince died a year ago. I can't believe I just typed that, but it's so.

Photo: from entertainment.ie, here

--There've been idiots in American politics since there's been an America, but Sean Spicer must be the most verbally handicapped one I've ever seen--and I've been keeping track since 2001. He makes Dubya look like he actually passed Yale with his own intellectual capacity. Dubya is an Oxford don next to this guy. If all the crap Spicer said before this week didn't open your eyes, drop your jaw and make you shake your head like a wet dog, surely this week's verbal diarrhea did it for you. Hitler didn't use gas?!? Holocaust centers?!? Bottom line: this is a national spokesman who cannot speak. And this doesn't just shock and awe Americans. It pisses off people across the world, including Germans, who haven't been our biggest fans since Trump refused to shake Andrea Merkel's hand, twice. What is it with this administration's problem with Jews, anyway? (Look up "Trump" and "National Holocaust Museum.") Now that O'Bannon is out, let's see what happens. If nothing does, we'll have to face the fact that it isn't just him, but the entire administration. (P.S.--It's all of them.)

Meryl Streep, With Class, Smokes Trump

Photo: From secondnexus.com, at this address. I know it's two different pics, but doesn't it look like he's shouting at her, and she's laughing at him?

Rather than take the moment for herself, and talk about herself, and congratulate herself, like the subject of her comments would have, Meryl Streep took a moment to remind the Foreign Press to make sure that they behave like the press, to call the powerful to account for any outlandish behavior our new and childish leader may exhibit. They're gonna be busy.

Here's the clip, in case you missed it, from msn.com, at the Golden Globes. Just click this link.

After her classy, understated, honest and stirring comments, I said to my better half: "How long until he calls her a terrible actress, or that she's overrated"--a common Trump tweet word--"or that her movies suck?"

Answer: Not long at all. He took to Twitter faster than you can say "he took to Twitter," and quickly thumb-typed that Streep was “one of the most over-rated actresses in Hollywood.”

Overrated is, of course, one word. Obama would've known that. Then again, classy statesmen--and stateswomen--say things verbally, without hiding behind texted social media. They know how to say things, to state things with class and authority. They could type and write things correctly, too, but the point is they don't have to. They don't jump on social media like a miffed adolescent. Though I understand that to compare Trump to an offended adolescent is an insult to offended adolescents everywhere.

The reaction to his reaction was severe and swift. Note to Trump: You will not win a fight by denigrating Streep's acting ability. Hollywood not just loves her; it respects her. This is a fight you will lose. And it wasn't cool to compare yourself to Jesus over the holiday break, either, by the way.

SNL's former alumni, Rachel Dratch, said: “Anyone who calls #Meryl ‘overrated’ is unfit to serve."

Judd Apatow said, “She is over rated as an actress like Michael Jordan is over rated as a basketball player or Sully as a pilot or Ted Williams at baseball."

Star Trek's Mr. Sulu, George Takei, imitating a typical Trump tweet (which will be a common alliteration these next four years, just watch), wrote: “What a small, small man. SAD!"

J.K. Rowling, Ellen Degeneres and many others chimed in.

The best part of Streep's rather short remarks (considering how long-winded she could've been, and as you-know-who would've been) is that she was hurt by the exact same one thing that I have said stung me the most. Out of all the outlandish (and illegal, and stalking, and abusive, and...) things he has said and done over the years, still the most unbelievable, jaw-dropping, soul-sucking thing to me was when he mocked, mimicked and bullied that mentally and physically disabled New York Times reporter. More than the assaults on women--which would be bad enough, normally, of course--and more than the xenophobia, more than the outright lies (You didn't really believe Mexico was going to pay for a wall that costs billions, did you?) and more than anything else, when he verbally mimicked and physically emulated a disabled person on worldwide television, I was so flabbergasted, hurt, offended, and even now I just cannot effing believe I saw what I saw and heard what I heard, and I cannot believe so many people would not mind their President behaving this way--a way that would cause any teacher at any level to throw him out of their classroom and I know this is a terrible run-on sentence but I still can't get over it...How can someone vote for a butthole who behaves like this?

Well, Streep referenced it a lot better than I just did, with a lot more class than I ever could, because I'm so angry--and because it's possible that I just don't have as much class and poise as she does. Streep, as usual, said it with class and poise. Trump, as usual, did not respond with class and poise. She correctly compared his antics to a performance, one that successfully entertained its target audience, people who were ready to "bare their teeth" and connect to that kind of immature mindset and misbehavior.

What's going to happen when a leader of a country like China or Korea says something bad about him? Is it possible he could start World War III with a f---ing tweet?!?

You know, I think it is.

I Almost Voted for Hodor

My vote today won't be a surprise to you if you've been reading this blog for the last month or so. Though I felt like I was choosing lounge chairs on the Titanic, I voted for Clinton. I wish there was a way I could affix an asterisk next to the oval I filled in, so that beneath it I could write * with extreme reservations. But you can't do that, so I filled in my ovals and moved on. I took a 20-question poll afterward, which took a lot longer than did the voting itself. I live in a rather small community, so the vote took maybe 5 minutes, max, starting with me approaching the women at the table who had the books of eligible voters. (One of them yelled my name aloud, which may have woken an astronaut on the moon. Can someone tell me in a comment why they have to do that?)

Someone asked me recently why I would vote for Clinton. Even if that person has read my blog (he hasn't), it's a fair question. You may have noticed that I wrote a lot of blogs about why I won't vote for Trump, but not one blog about why I'd vote for Clinton. In essence, that's my answer: I'm more voting against Trump than I am voting for Clinton. I almost wouldn't mind voting for one of the other candidates (as a friend of mine did, who voted for Jill Stein), except a) that would take a vote away from Clinton, which essentially is a vote for Trump, which helps him win--and I simply cannot do that; and b) the other candidates seem a little screwy, at best. They are not awesome alternatives.

So that's my answer, really. I'm voting against Trump, not for Clinton. I suspect that a very large percentage of people voting for her would say the same. That leaves a bad taste, but nobody promised me a rose garden, and I'm a little too long in the tooth to think that everything needs to be fair in this world. To emphasize this point, I almost voted for a write-in candidate: Hodor. Because I wanted to make a bumper sticker that said: Don't blame me. I voted for Hodor! But I chickened out.

Photo: If anyone wants to start a Vote Hodor! campaign, count me in

Despite the dozens (or perhaps, literally, hundreds) of offensive, stupid, arrogant, ignorant, harmful, disrespectful, biased, xenophobic, and misogynist things Trump has said and done, he lost me a long time ago when he physically and verbally mocked a disabled New York Times reporter, imitating both his slurred speech and his uncontrollable movements. My President simply doesn't do that. Chances are, if my high school teachers wouldn't tolerate that behavior in the classroom, I'm not going to tolerate that behavior in my President. Mine will not mock and make fun of the disabled. It is that simple. My President also will not hate women, physically abuse women, say hateful things to and about women, and cut corners on taxes for 18 years if he's a billionaire (You don't think Bill Gates and Oprah also know those loopholes? But they've given millions to charities--and they pay taxes).

My President will not hate. And that's what this man does--or, at least, is what he wants us to think he does. He hates. He's shockingly bitter and angry for a very rich, very privileged white man. I don't know why such a pampered rich guy is so hateful, but he is. I suspect a personality disorder, such as narcissism, is to blame. Maybe a sociopathic issue. Or maybe he's just a butthole. Nobody's got the right to be a d--chebag anymore. I'm betting that with him, it's just that simple: he's just an a--hole.

And so that's it. I'm looking forward to the end of this fiasco, by far the worst of my lifetime. I suspect that elections with the likes of John C. Calhoun and others around Lincoln's time were far worse than this. I remember that a vice-president (Alexander Hamilton) was killed in a duel, after all. And then they made a musical out of him. I'm guessing there will not be a Trump musical.

Even if you disagree, please go out and vote. People all over the world are dying in their battle to get this right. You can't complain about the winner, or anything at all about politics, if you don't vote.

And for a hilarious send-up of Trump, called Darth Trump, using famous Star Wars scenes, go to https://youtu.be/KU_Jdts5rL0

Why You Shouldn't Vote for Trump 2

This is a continuation of a series of blogs that list reasons you shouldn't vote for Trump. The first of the series is here--just click on these words.

Now, following by far the worst performance I've ever seen in a debate, are a few more:

Photo: You don't have to have seen the movie Airplane to appreciate this, but it's a good point.

--He hasn't released his tax returns, the first political hopeful in over four decades to not do so. He said in the debate that the IRS suggests he not release them until their audit of him is done--long after the IRS had made it very clear that he can release his tax returns before they finish. During the debate, he said they've audited him for the past fifteen years--so it's clear that he thinks they'll be auditing him for eternity, and therefore he never has to release them. Why isn't he releasing them? He also said that his lawyers have told him not to release them--without ever saying why this is. If that's true--which I doubt--then why are they telling him not to release his tax returns? Why is his campaign manager telling him not to release his tax returns when she knows it's a major critical point, and that everyone else in recent memory has done so? Why does everyone who knows about his tax returns tell him not to release them? Why? Why? Why? Are there illegal things in there, such as how he's handled his 6 bankruptcies? How he's shipped many jobs overseas? How Trump University is a Ponzi scheme? Or has he not paid any taxes in recent years? (My guess: many, if not all, of these.)

Why hasn't he released his tax returns?!?

Photo: from the New York Times article, linked below.

--He doesn't know what he's talking about. This is true with every non-offensive word that comes out of his mouth, but is especially true when you look at his first 30 minutes or so of the debate. In what was considered the better part of a pathetic performance, he said absolutely nothing accurate at all--a big problem for him, since his core message is that he's a businessman who can fix the country's bad business. But don't take my word for it. Look at this piece at Vox.com.

I've said recently that the country's job market wasn't that bad. Someone screaming something at you relentlessly doesn't make that thing correct, just loud. (And never let someone control you with fear. Beware of those who try to win you over with your own worst fears.) The bottom line is: jobs have grown for 78 straight months, the longest streak in history. The job market is growing here--for now.

--He acts like a child. There are so many examples of this, I won't insult your intelligence by belaboring it. Do you want this guy representing you to the rest of the world? Don't you cringe every time he opens his mouth? Look at the cartoon above. This is but one of hundreds of examples.

--He has absolutely no political experience whatsoever, in any way. Not even in a city council, or a school committee, or anything. Nothing. Nada. Zilch. Zero.

--Whenever he hints at Bill Clinton's infidelity, he seems to be forgetting his own. Or don't you remember the divorce from Ivana, when he fooled around with Marla Maples? How can you forget a name like Marla Maples?!?

--He's a liar. About a great many things, but to such an extent that even The New York Times, which goes out of its way to be fair, had this to say about why it officially calls him a liar.

--He mentions such irrelevant people as Rosie O'Donnell in a debate that the entire world is watching. Again, that's a bit immature, isn't it? Rosie O'Donnell has as much to do with the Presidency as Bill Maher did when Christine O'Donnell defended herself against his accusation that she was a witch. Just not somebody who should be holding an important political office.

--He's orange, and he acts like a buffoon. And he didn't answer a single question Lester Holt asked.

Sarah's Key by Tatiana de Rosnay

photo: cover of French version, second edition, from the book's Wikipedia page

Very effective book--about the French populace not recognizing the culpability of the French police being the Nazi's stooges in 1942--that would have been great without the emphasis on the present-day relationship struggles and the moralizing/browbeating by the author, through the main character.  Though the real incidents portrayed via Sarah were real and horrifying, there isn't too much room for moralizing and browbeating in fiction.  I could've taken quite a bit of that, as it is that warranted, but this book crosses the line and becomes a bit of a soapbox.

Having said that, this book is worth the read just for the scenes with Sarah, culminating upon her return to her apartment--though, really, culminating with a car and a tree in Connecticut.  The tragedy of the tragedy ends with that car and tree, as we want our victims to live long and prosper.  That doesn't happen too often in real life, and it doesn't happen here, and the tragedy is multiplied because of that, and because of the reasons behind the suicide.  You never want the victim of unspeakable horrors to commit suicide, but the reality is that they often do.  All of this is very sad, and it will stay with you, whether you want it to or not.  Sarah's character will be a long-lasting one in the world of fiction, and Sarah's key is one of the better metaphors and symbols to come along in a long time.  In fact, as such, it is shockingly underused in the book.

That the book focuses instead on the relationship between the main character and her husband is an author's mistake, I think, that is further highlighted by her comment in an interview at the back of the book that she did not want to write a book of historical fiction.  Her aim was to include a bit of that, but to focus instead on creating a parallel to a modern-day relationship and its problems.  It is this parallel, unfortunately, that very much doesn't work.  You expect them to cris-cross at some point, and of course they do, but when they do, the moralizing starts, which degrades the effect of the tragedy.  Part of the tragedy, in fact, is that the tragedy was largely ignored.  It needed to stay tragic, rather than become fodder for a soapbox.

This failure with the parallel--and, I think, a failure on the author's rationale, as she states in the interview at the end that she thinks her readers want a book more about relationship struggles (and, hell, maybe they do, though this reader doesn't)--is that it counts too much on that moralizing, and on over-sentimentality, and on a large dose of coincidence.  The main character's marriage ends in divorce, it is said, because the husband couldn't handle her devotion to the tragedy, and to her unborn baby (though the marriage was actually in trouble long before that, and one supposes that the husband would've had a problem with her focusing her attention on anything and anyone at all but him, and he was cheating on her for many years even before the timeline for this novel started); another man's marriage falls apart because his wife couldn't handle his preoccupation with the same thing--even though Sarah was this man's mother, so he had a much better reason for his preoccupation.  Anyway, the main character and this man, separately, move to NYC after the failure of their marriages, and they both think about each other and keep track of each other without letting on to the other.  They fall for each other right away, though the man was also upset with her, and his marriage was fine at the time.  That they get together at the end, and the name that she gives her new daughter, will not surprise even a six year old reader, especially since the main character goes out of her way, several times, to narrate how beautiful this man's fingers and hands are...

...sigh...It becomes Schindler's List Meets Sleepless in Seattle.  I do not exaggerate.  (Well, perhaps a little.)

Could've been an outstanding book had the author book-ended the main story with the suicide, perhaps, or otherwise focused more on that.  Focusing the entire second half of the book on the aforementioned things, rather than on Sarah at all, or on the tragedies in her childhood, and then at the end of her life, actually degrades the real-life tragedy and drags the whole thing into quasi-sappy melodrama.

Sarah deserved a LOT better than that.  Sarah, in fact, transcends the trappings of this novel she's trapped in, and will live within you, outside the rather narrow confines of this book's borders.  She's a character, much like Shakespeare's Juliet, that is superior to the work she's placed in.  You'll be grateful, though, that the book exists as a vehicle for her to be born in, and then to survive and surpass.

For a look at a movie review from the New York Times that agrees with my assessment of the book the movie's based on, go to http://movies.nytimes.com/2011/07/22/movies/sarahs-key-directed-by-gilles-paquet-brenner-review.html.  Its final word is the same as mine, in terms of the essential fault of the book and film: both stories couldn't co-exist in the same vehicle, and the one about the pitfalls of today's relationships trivializes the truth and tragedy of the horror that really did happen in Paris, France in July, 1942.