Muriel Barbery's The Elegance of the Hedgehog

Muriel Barbery's The Elegance of the Hedgehog is both a thought-provoking and moving book, one with a bittersweet ending. I confess that I found the first half or so of the novel, translated from the French, a bit tedious. But it's one of those books I've learned to stick with, for the reward lies just ahead. I also had some trouble at times following who the narrator was and more importantly keeping up with who's who among the supporting characters.

The book deals with two self-taught, closet intellectuals, one a middle-aged concierge and the other a 12-year-old girl who lives in the hotel where the concierge works and also lives. The concierge works hard to maintain the stereotype that concierges are boring non-intellectuals. The child, from the start of the book, reveals her intention to commit suicide on June 16. (James Joyce fans, is it a coincidence that's Bloomsbury Day?)

One passage in the book brought back memories, both fond and sad, of my own. Near the end of the novel, Renee, the concierge, is preparing to get dressed for the wonderful Japanese man whose own life has a profound impact on both her life and the child's. "I smeared my lips with 1 layer of 'Deep Carmine' lipstick that I had bought 20 years ago for a cousin's wedding," Renee says. "The longevity of such a useless item when valiant lives are lost every day, will never cease to confound me."

That passage reminded me of a small, inexpensive perfume stick my paternal grandmother, Mammaw, had. At some point, she either gave it to me, or I found it among her possessions after she died. I held on to it and its fading scent for years and years. I may even still have it somewhere. I don't recall discarding it. I know I couldn't seem to throw it away. It was a memory, a smell, of a loved one long gone, and I didn't want to give up that memory.

Read the book; it's not a cookie-cutter creation. It's just that, a creation and a thoughtful one.

Loving Frank by Nancy Horan

Loving Frank is a simple yet complex and sometimes disturbing work of historical fiction by Nancy Horan. Horan brings more fact than fiction to her work about Frank Lloyd Wright, the Oak Park, Illinois, architect and the lesser-known, early 20th-century feminist he loved, Mamah Borthwick Cheney.

The book offers glimpses into the couple's private yet at times all-too-public lives. It also touches on early feminist philosophies of the time and raises ethical, even moral questions on whether the characters were right -- or wrong -- to leave not only their spouses but their children.

I found Mamah a likable yet sometimes infuriating not to mention perplexing woman. I found Wright most unlikable and infatuated with himself. Without giving away the ending, I found it so incredible that I could not believe I had never heard about this event. A bit of quick research verified it was all too real.

The book is an easy, fast read if you can keep from stopping to look up more detailed information about some of the supporting characters. The locations included places I've lived and visited -- Chicago, Oak Park, Paris, Germany and rural Wisconsin.

While we all bring our varied experiences into our reading and writing, I do believe that the reader's gender and especially her/his state of marital bliss -- or the total lack thereof -- will likely affect how much the reader empathizes with Mamah and Frank. But woman or man, happily married or not, readers can enjoy this book and learn some juicy architectural history along the way. And when was the last time you read "juicy architectural history," I ask.

House of Windows by Adina Hoffman

I read House of Windows: Portraits From a Jerusalem Neighborhood by Adina Hoffman for a review for Hadassah Magazine and an AP news-feature. I found Hoffman's work at times slow but overall refreshing. I was impressed by her own objectivity in relating the reasons behind the conflicts between the Israelis and the Arabs of Jerusalem. Her book did not dwell on politics, but on the people directly affected by the politics and by individuals' actions toward each other -- from shop owners to a Palestinian refugee with whom she and her husband take a cab ride one day. The book takes off on little details that can lead to insightful stories: Hoffman's quest for olive oil as the Sabbath begins and the Jewish shop owners shut down their businesses. This collection of essays offers exactly what its title promises: glimpses into the lives of the people who live in and near Hoffman's neighborhood. This is an excellent and different book -- one people would do well to read before rendering too many thoughts on the Middle Eastern conflict, especially if they've never been to Jerusalem.

Hoffman, by the way, is a daughter of author Rosellen Brown. I've had the privilege to talk with both women and found them to be humble, intelligent and most interesting.

Pat Conroy's South of Broad

Because I belong to a book club, I sometimes read books that I might not otherwise choose. This novel is one. I'd never read a Pat Conroy book before, though I remember enjoying the film, The Prince of Tides.

Reviews of Conroy's latest novel, South of Broad, have been mixed. Indeed, my own view of it is mixed. At first, I was turned off by Conroy's over-the-top, anything-but-concise description of scenery, people, just about anything. I don't frankly care if the tide is coming in or out, if the sky is blue or gray. I would, however, have liked to understand better how this unlikely group of characters became such close friends. Conroy never adequately explains that to my satisfaction. Further, I found the main character too good to be true (when he bathes and cleans up the ailing, elderly man, for instance) and too eloquent and witty for a teenager.

All that said, I thoroughly enjoyed this book and read it much faster than I do most novels. In short, it entertained me. Conroy can tell a good story; there's no doubt about that. Like the many writers, he just needs to tighten up his writing a tad. And that's just for starters.