The 13 Clocks

The foreword in my copy of James Thurber's The 13 Clocks was written by the venerable Neil Gaiman, and describes it as "probably the best book in the world". He goes on to say that "it doesn't need an introduction. It doesn't need me." and this loving, devoted praise written in playful, honest jest set me up to love the book before it even started.

The 13 Clocks is wonderful, dreamy, adorable, and sometimes frightening. It's the shortest adventure I've ever gone on, over in the wink of an eye, but introduces more fantastical new ideas than I could usually find in 30 volumes. There's a prince, and a princess, and witches and creatures with riddles, described in jestful language that keeps you reading more. You can tell just how much fun Thurber was having writing it, and the feeling is infectious.

Marc Simont's accompanying illustrations are equally masterful, and the perfect match to the magical world in which the story takes place. There's a cute, innocent look to the characters that balances a graceful beauty that perfectly captures the childlike fantasy of Thurber's rhymes, shadowed by the darker curiosities of an adult world. 

Playful, witty, and endlessly creative, this story is pure delight and it's one I'd happily read again and again.

Miss Pettigrew Lives for a Day

Simply put, Winifred Watson's Miss Pettigrew Lives for a Day is a 1938 romcom. A lighthearted romp of a "modern" fairy tale, the main character storms her way through misadventures in a whirlwind way reminiscent of an Amelia Bedelia book, teetering between adolescent naivety and adult frivolity. The illustrations which intermittently appeared further pushed the feeling of it being a children's story with oddly comedic contrast to innocent line drawings with accompanying excerpts like "That's cocaine". Was this normal for the time? I've never seen it before, but if it was an intentional choice, it's hilarious and brilliant.

My copy included a preface by a woman whose mother loved the book for its ability to speak to the fantasies of a middle aged woman—and I can appreciate how that might be an exciting and appealing genre for a woman of that age and time. For me, it was a quick and enjoyable (though at times frustrating in the yelling-at-the-movie-screen kind of way) distraction that didn't require much thought. 

Though following Guinevere's adventures through a glitzy socialite's day was fun, what I appreciated most was the warmth with which female friendship was displayed. Delysia is so lovable and welcoming (while also beautiful), and that's such a rare thing to see in entertainment these days. That feeling of being accepted and appreciated as Miss Pettigrew was is what anyone wants, and that's the true Cinderella moment of this whole story. Finding a true friend can be the most rewarding thing a woman can ever experience.

Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?

Philip K. Dick's Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? is oddly simple, dwelling on the loneliness of existence and human beings' endless pursuit of connection and deeper feeling in an ever-more isolated and artificial world. It starts strong, introducing a new world that's exciting to discover and seek to understand. Rick Deckard's motivations are engaging, and the mysteries of androids and the question of whether they're "good", "bad", or neither, is something worth investigating. 

But somewhere along the way, it feels like Dick loses steam and along with it, interest in his own story. At what should seem to be the climax of the story, Deckard shows up to battle his supposedly toughest adversaries, but finishes the job with head-scratching ease and the scene is over, just like that. Deckard's character is suddenly tired and confused, inexplicably losing the personality that originally made him so likeable. 

The ending, in a quiet moment showing Iran, Deckerd's wife, taking care of him for the first time feels incomplete and lacking warmth, but maybe that's the point. Like Deckard, the reader must ultimately settle and go on with their lives.

Memento Mori

Muriel Spark's Memento Mori started very differently from how it ended up. It seemed, in the first few pages, that it was going to be a quirky mystery about a happy group of senior citizens but became more of a nebulous network of...I don't even know what, centering around too many old folks that it was nearly impossible for me to keep track of who was who at any point. Maybe that's a remark on how easily young people forget the old and think them all the same without any remarkable features. I wish it had been what I initially thought, though, because I personally didn't get much entertainment or inspiration from this slog. Goodreads is full of 5 star reviews for this book and I really can't relate to that at all. I guess it was fine? But it wasn't enjoyable and after finishing it, I feel I've come away with nothing to hold on to.

The fact that the "villain" was named Mrs. Pettigrew threw me off as well since it's so strongly attached to what I only loosely know as a happy woman finding herself in a different Winifred Watson work.

I guess that's all I have to say to that. This recap pretty much sums up my experience. A big ole "shrug" emoji.