September 16, 2007

In Memoriam: Banned Book Month or: the saddest girl ever.

Mle_splash_2007

How do you say goodbye to an icon?  September 6th, 2007 Madeleine L'engle died.  Did she rock your world like she rocked mine?  If you're my friend Robb she most certianly did not.  But still, it's ironic that she should die during September, when banned book week is.

The following is from her website

Madeleine L'Engle Camp Franklin, 88, of Goshen, CT and New York City, died Thursday, September 6th. Born November 29, 1918, in New York City, to Charles Camp and Madeleine Barnett Camp, she was educated in Switzerland and South Carolina, before graduating from Smith College. She was the author of over 60 books, including the award-winning A Wrinkle in Time.

She is survived by her two daughters, Josephine Jones of Goshen, CT and Maria Rooney and her husband John of Mystic, CT; her five grandchildren, Madeleine Jones Roy and her husband Rob, Charlotte Jones Voiklis and her husband John, Edward Jones, Bryson Rooney, all of New York City, and Alexander Rooney, of Mystic CT; and five greatgrandchildren, Kosta and Magda Voiklis, and Cooper, Finn, and Scarlett Roy. She was preceded in death by her husband, Hugh Franklin, and her son, Bion Barnett Franklin.

In lieu of flowers, a memorial gift may be made to Crosswicks Foundation, Ltd, 924 West End Ave, apt 95, New York, New York, 10025. This is just an option, and we encourage you to honor her memory in any way you choose.

Read a banned book!

I am at a loss.  I'm not sure even how to tell you how upset I am about her death.  She lived a long life though and she is celebrated by many readers who love her. 

Wheaton college has a special collection and this interview and article:

I was born in New York City on the snowy night of November 29, 1918, and lived in New York City for the next twelve years, with a jaunt or two to Europe. My father, Charles Wadsworth Camp, was a writer and my mother, Madeleine Hall Barnett Camp, a pianist, and the house was always full of artists of one kind or another. When I was twelve we moved to Europe, where we lived mostly in France and Switzerland, and I went to a Swiss boarding school. Then followed school in South Carolina and Smith College.

After graduating from Smith in 1941, I took an apartment in Greenwich Village with three other girls, two of whom were aspiring actresses. Because I wanted to be a writer, I was the lucky one to get jobs in the theater (I thought it was an excellent school for writers and it is). When I was in Chekhov’s The Cherry Orchard I met actor Hugh Franklin, and I married him a year later. At his request I withdrew from Actor’s Equity and in 1952 he also retired from the theater “forever.”

We had an old white farmhouse in northwestern Connecticut, and he wanted to settle down, put down roots, and get away from the tensions of the city and the theater. In order to earn a living, we acquired a defunct general store. I must honestly admit that helping to build up a dead general store, participate in the life of a small, but very active community, run a large old farmhouse, and raise three small children is the perfect “way not” to write a book. However, I did manage to write at night. I have written since I could hold a pencil, much less a pen, and writing is for me an essential function, like sleeping and breathing.

As a gifted girl excluded from the circle of popular children, L’Engle cultivated a richly textured interior life, immersing herself in the works of L. Frank Baum, L.M. Montgomery and, most happily, George MacDonald. “Meeting [him] when I was very young,” she writes, “was a blessing to my understanding of God and creation and our own small but potentially beautiful place in it.”

During college, L’Engle wrote plays and published short stories in magazines, and in 1945 released her first book, The Small Rain. Then followed Ilsa (1946) and Camilla Dickinson (1951). After she and Hugh moved to the country to raise their family, L’Engle wrote prolifically but published only one novel, A Winter’s Love (1957). Discouraged, she gave up writing; however, even in the depths of disheartenment she found herself composing a book about failure, and there decided that perhaps she was a writer, after all. Her next title was Meet the Austins (1960).

At this time, she and Hugh decided to return to New York City where he resumed his acting career, eventually landing a plum role on the daytime soap opera, “All My Children.” Soon after, L’Engle developed a fascination for quantum physics, and in response wrote A Wrinkle in Time, the novel that finally secured her lasting commercial success. For Wrinkle, she received the 1963 Newbery Medal, a particularly satisfying celebration for a book that had gathered dozens of rejections.

In the city, L’Engle involved herself with the Cathedral of St. John the Divine where she assumed the position of church librarian while enjoying a challenging tutelage under her spiritual advisor, Edward Nason West, the Episcopal cathedral’s extraordinarily learned subdean. Subsequently, West was honored in several novels as a character called “Canon Tallis.”

Her reputation firmly established, L’Engle produced confidently throughout the 1960’s. Titles include The Moon by Night (1963), The Journey with Jonah (1967), The Young Unicorns (1968), and Dance in the Desert (1969). In 1973 she wrote A Wind in the Door, continuing the “time” narrative introduced in Wrinkle, following with A Swiftly Tilting Planet (1978), Many Waters (1986) and An Acceptable Time (1989). A Ring of Endless Light, chronicling the adventures of heroine Vicki Austin, received the Newbery Honor award for 1981.

Though all of her writing is seasoned with personal touches, in the 1970’s L’Engle deliberately leaned toward autobiographical intimacy with The Crosswicks Journals, presenting extended ruminations about her family, faith and career. In the final entry, Two-Part Invention (1988), she reflects on her marriage to Hugh, and his eventual death from cancer in 1986.

Further meditations on pilgrimage and creation are found in the Genesis trilogy, And It Was Good (1983), A Stone for a Pillow (1986) and Sold Into Egypt (1989). In this series, she engages such biblical characters as Jacob and Joseph as she presents observations concerning bereavement, relationship and journey.

Later titles, fiction and non-fiction, include Certain Women (1992), Troubling A Star (1994), Penguins and Golden Calves (1996), Bright Evening Star (1997), Miracle on 110th Street (1998) and The Other Dog (2001). In Friends for the Journey (1997), co-written with poet Luci Shaw, L’Engle discusses the value of discerning friendship.

During most of these years, L’Engle, in addition to writing, embarked on an arduous lecturing career that would have exhausted a woman half her age, delivering commencement speeches and conducting spirituality retreats. Her thinking concerning creativity and the spirit is expounded in Walking on Water (1978), a classic text for Christian artists.

In 1975, Professor Clyde Kilby of Wheaton College, IL, approached L’Engle about donating her papers. Since, Wheaton has acquired an ever-increasing assortment of manuscripts, artwork and correspondence for its Special Collections. Barring restrictions, this material is available to researchers.

Madeleine L’Engle died on September 6, 2007. In her life and writing, the artist who postulates so eloquently about space, time and love has achieved timelessness.

This is said a lot more elloquently than I can say.  May you rest in peace Madeline, thank you for all the literature.  Thanks for enduring through the banning of your books. 

 

Nerdilicious

Jitcrunch

Have you heard of her?  She's been going strong for over a year now but I still can't get enough of Grammar Girl .  Here's a link for the effect v. affect: my own personal demon.  We all have at least one.  I never had a problem with that and which, two: too, and I never ever had a problem with their, they're and there. It's all so easy but give me effect and affect and I'm lost and confused.  God bless Grammar Girl.   

Desire Street Acadamy

Dsalogo

This charity was recently brought to my attention.  They need books so that their students can read classics alongside their parents, then they'll watch the movie version.  I love the fact that the parents have to be involved as well.  I need to dig through my book stash and see what I have.  I KNOW that I have duplicates of some of these books that they want. So go on, give those old classics a new life and send them on!   

Desire Street Academy
3852 East Brookstown Drive
Baton Rouge, LA 70805
office: 225-355-5074

BOOKS NEEDED AT DSA

Direct questions to Mrs. Edwine Muse, Curriculum Developer
Desire Street Academy, Phone 225-355-5074, Fax 225-246-8532

Literature

Aeschylus
    Agamemnon
    Prometheus Bound

Alcott, Louisa May
    Little Women

Armstrong, William Howard
    Sounder

Asimov, Isaac
    Foundation

Augustine
    Confessions

Austen, Jane
    Emma
    Mansfield Park
    Pride and Prejudice
    Sense and Sensibility

Bagnold, Enid
    National Velvet

Blackmore, Richard
    Lorna Doone

Bolt, Robert
    A Man for All Seasons

Bradbury, Ray
    Dandelion Wine
    The Martian Chronicles
    Fahrenheit 451

Brontë, Charlotte
    Jane Eyre

Brontë, Emily
    Wuthering Heights

Buck, Pearl
    The Good Earth

Bunyan, John
    Pilgrim’s Progress

Burnett, Frances Hodgson
    The Secret Garden

Cervantes, Miguel de
    Don Quixote de la Mancha

Chaucer, Geoffrey
    The Canterbury Tales

Clark, Arthur C.
    2001: A Space Odyssey

Conrad, Joseph
    Heart of Darkness
    Lord Jim

Cooper, James Fenimore
    The Deerslayer
    The Last of the Mohicans

Dante
    The Inferno

Defoe, Daniel
    Robinson Crusoe

Dickens, Charles
    Great Expectations
    Hard Times
    Oliver Twist
    Our Mutual Friend

Dostoyevsky, Fyodor
    Crime and Punishment
    The Brothers Karamazov

Doyle, Sir Arthur Conan
    The Hound of the Baskervilles

Dumas, Alexandre
    The Count of Monte Cristo
    The Three Musketeers

Farley, Walter
    The Black Stallion

Fitzgerald, F. Scott
    The Great Gatsby

Forbes, Esther
    Johnny Tremain

Frank, Anne
    The Diary of a Young Girl

Gilbreath, Frank B. and Ernestine
    Cheaper by the Dozen

Gipson, Fred
    Old Yeller

Golding, William
    Lord of the Flies

Grahame, Kenneth
    The Wind in the Willows

Hamilton, Alexander and James Madison
    The Federalist Papers

Hardy, Thomas
    The Return of the Native
    Tess of the d’Urbervilles

Hawthorne, Nathaniel
    The House of the Seven Gables

Heaney, Seamus (translator)
    Beowulf

Hemingway, Ernest
    The Old Man and the Sea

Herbert, Frank
    Dune

Homer
    The Iliad
    The Odyssey

Hugo, Victor
    The Hunchback of Notre Dame
    Les Miserables

Huxley, Aldous
    Brave New World

James, Henry
    The Portrait of a Lady
    The Turn of the Screw

Kipling, Rudyard
    Captains Courageous
    The Jungle Book

Knowles, John
    A Separate Peace

L’Engle, Madeleine
    A Wrinkle in Time

Lewis, C. S.
    The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe
    Out of the Silent Planet
    Perelandra
    That Hideous Strength
    The Screwtape Letters
    Till We Have Faces

London, Jack
    The Call of the Wild
    White Fang

Melville, Herman
    Moby Dick

Milton, John
    Paradise Lost

Mitchell, Margaret
    Gone with the Wind

Montgomery, L. M.
    Anne of Green Gables

Nesbit, Edith
    The Railway Children

Nordoff, Charles and James Norman Hall
    Mutiny on the Bounty

O’Hara, Mary
    My Friend Flicka

Orczy, Baroness Emmuska
    The Scarlet Pimpernell

Orwell, George
    1984
    Animal Farm

Potok, Chaim
    The Chosen

Rawlings, Marjorie Kinnan
    The Yearling

Remarque, Erich Maria
    All Quiet on the Western Front

Rostand, Edmund
    Cyrano de Bergerac

Scott, Sir Walter
    Ivanhoe

Sewell, Anna
    Black Beauty

Shakespeare, William
    Hamlet
    Henry V
    King Lear
    As You Like It
    Romeo and Juliet

Shelley, Mary
    Frankenstein

Sophocles
    Oedipus Rex

Speare, Elizabeth George
    Heidi

Steinbeck, John
    The Grapes of Wrath
    Of Mice and Men
    The Pearl

Stendhal
    The Red and the Black

Stevenson, Robert Louis
    Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde
    Treasure Island

Stowe, Harriet Beecher
    Uncle Tom’s Cabin

Swift, Jonathon
    Gulliver’s Travels

Thackery, William M.
    Vanity Fair

Tolkien, J. R. R.
    The Hobbit
    The Fellowship of the Ring
    The Two Towers
    The Return of the King
    The Silmarillion

Tolstoy, Leo
    Anna Karenina
    War and Peace

Twain, Mark
    The Prince and the Pauper

Verne, Jules
    Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea

Virgil
    The Aeneid

Wells, H. G.
    The Invisible Man
    The Time Machine
    The War of the Worlds

White, E. B.
    Charlotte’s Web

White, T. H.
    The Once and Future King

Wilder, Laura Ingalls
    Little House on the Prairie

Wilder, Thornton
    Our Town

Wyss, Johann David
    The Swiss Family Robinson

August 30, 2007

Cold Mountain

                                387pxcold_mountain_novel_cover

If you haven't noticed by now: I'm behind the times.  I usually don't read popular books.  I have nothing against well read novels but I just usually don't have the time to read them until years later.  This book is one though that I'm glad that I waited to read. 

I first picked Cold Mountain quite a few weeks ago. I read it on the bus, and then I read it at home, and read it at work on my lunch break.  I throughly enjoyed this book.  It was written in 1997. I was seventeen when this book came out and I think I would have disliked it quite a bit at that age. I'm not sure that I would have even finished it.  I don't think that I mind reading books that were execptionally popular ten years ago because I feel that the book will sometimes find me when I'm ready for it. Ah, now dear reader I have let you see a bit more of my craziness just there. 

Did you see the movie? Most people did.  It's not horrible, it's just a bit odd after reading the book.  I had seen the movie before reading the book and thought that it was ok.  I found Nicole Kidman's role a bit forced and as soon as I read the book I understood why.  Nicole Kidman and Jude Law should never have been cast in this movie.  They really didn't bring anything to their roles.  They made the characters seem flat.  Rene Zellwegar did a good job as Ruby and I believed her.  Not those other two though. 

This book was as rich in it's dialoge as it was in its imagry.  At once a rehash of Homer's Odessey and a story about how people can often chose to be strong, Cold Mountain explores the horror of war, the experiences gained as pilgrim and how people sometimes have to change in order to survive.

SPOILER WARNING!

I'll tell you that I liked the ending to the book a lot more than the one in the movie. Oh, Inman still dies.  Don't worry about that.  (More on that later).  The movie completely fails to depict the fact that not only is Ada Monroe fine without him but as the reader you think that maybe she's better off.  Not that he's a bad guy but that he can't really be a part of her life. Not after all the changes that she'd been through.  She was stronger without him. 

I also liked Frazier's use of Thoreau and Whitman throughout the book. It helped to drive home the importance of living off the land and the love of story telling.  Who else but those two loved the land as "America" more?  I can't really think of anyone at this moment, although one is surely to come to mind as soon as I'm done.  I highly recommend this book for a great Fall read.

 

August 29, 2007

Without a Hero T.C. Boyle

                                     Without_a_hero

I’ve been reading Without a Hero lately. It’s a bunch of short stories. Perfect for my summertime mania.  This book, published in 1994 is funny, and wonderfully disturbing at the same time.  It’s extremely reminiscent of some of Roald Dahl’s short stories for adults.  From a couple who hire someone to take care of their buying habits to a Russian expatriate, to a real estate phenom on a faux African dude ranch, the stories are broad, unusual and like all T.C. Boyle books it addresses a multitude of issues in America.  Some of them are a bit dated but only in reference to the Berlin Wall falling and a teenager making a reference to the New Kids on the Block. Oh how I loved Joey.  Have you seen him on MTV recently? He looks awful. Maybe he always did, what would I know I wasn’t even a teenager when they were popular.  Anyway, back to the book at hand.  I am really enjoying the short stories.  I used to read a lot more short stories but for some reason haven’t picked up a book of them in a long time.  I think that this will change that.

These short stories seem to be a sort of time machine for me in that they have the pacing, mood, and language of the early nineties.  They contain a lot of that early nineties angst that while I went through, I was too young to truly appreciate.  The book I have even has a neat cover from the nineties. Just LOOK at those boots crushing a record! I think that looking back my favorite story in this was the one titled "Without a Hero".  It meets one of my criteria of a good story: I'm still thinking about it.  Even though I didn't really enjoy it the first time I read it through, I was compelled to re-read it and even now weeks later I'm still thinking about it. Wondering several things: Did I like the ending? Does it matter if I like the ending was I supposed to dislike it?  How do I feel about how things turned out for the protagonist?  These  questions that nag me tell me that it was a good story because it made me think.   

The Inevitable H.P.

As you might have noticed I have been extremely quite on the subject of Harry Potter.  This isn’t because I don’t enjoy the books, or hold some grudge against them.  In fact you better believe that I read my copy right away.  I just think that the internet is littered with poor Harry already and that I can’t really add to it. I’ll just say that I really enjoyed this last book and that I hope J.K. doesn’t cave and do a 9th. 

August 12, 2007

Catch Up or the Adventures of the Girl Who Was Too Busy to Post but is Finally Getting an Itty-Bitty Break from Berry Picking

You see, it all started like this: I went on an innocent berry picking excursion down at my friend Molly's house. Oh, the currants were ripe and abundant.  They were everywhere! Let me tell you a little about red currants.  In the wild, the grow where it is horribly difficult to get to, if there is tall grass with broken, decayed trees lurking in the brush to trip you up and break your leg, if there is a steep, wet and slippery slope that's difficult to climb, if there are tons of rose bushes waiting to pierce your fingers, then you will have currants.  Wonderful, beautiful, fantastic jelly making currants. So we were just finishing up, picking on the last, (no I swear this will be the very last bush, not like the last bush, that was the second to last bush) when I let go of the rose bush branch that I was holding out of the way while holding my bucket while picking berries and I felt it slap my leg. Oh did it hurt mightily, then I felt it hit my other thigh. But wait a minute, that was impossible, then the horrible realization hit me: HORNETS! They were everywhere! All over my back, all over my backside, and as I ran yelping out of the woods I looked behind me and I swear to you that there was the cartoon-like swarm following close behind me.  Oh I was frightened.  I was terrified. As soon as I broke through the brush I was safe though, in pain but safe.  I'll tell you something now: I have never been stung, no bee, no wasp, no hornet, no yellow-jacket has ever stung me.  I've always maintained that they were my friends because we came to an understanding.  What kind of understanding you ask?  Well now that I think about it the details seem a little vague but there was an understanding!  12 stings, oh it hurt so bad. One on my hand, two on my thigh, and the rest? Well the rest are on my buttocks.  Yep, that's right. I basically have one big welt on my butt.  I have a desk job people! I had to stay home from my job. 

"Yes boss? I need to stay home today.  No, I'm not sick my butt is swollen, painful and itchy.  Thanks for understanding"

I couldn't even blog my butt hurt so bad. Well, that and it made me really tired.   

Hornet

August 04, 2007

PENANCE!

          Well folks, I did it! I can’t believe that I did but I finally, finished The Name of the Rose!  Exciting right?  It was a long, long time ago that I started it.  A pattern soon emerged: I would read 40 pages, then put it down.  Look at it a month later and PROMISE myself that I’d read at least 200 more.  I’d read only 40 pages, then put it down again, and again, and again. Finally, when I started riding the bus I forced myself to carry it everywhere with me. I didn’t let myself pick up another book until I was done with it.  Even then, I found excuses.  I would read the newspaper, chat with fellow bus-riders (this last showing my true desperation).  But finally, there was nothing left to do but read the book.  Why stick with it you ask?  Why not just toss it aside forever? Believe me, I could have. I have absolutely no compunctions about tossing horrible books aside.  But this book wasn’t horrible.  It was interesting, historical, and the reader can tell that there lies a true mania behind this book. 500 pages of amazing detail.  Have I mentioned how good this book is?  It is easily a modern classic.  I think that it will certainly stand the test of time, and I have no doubt that readers will still find this book as compelling in 100 years as they do now. 

Let me talk about the mania that I mentioned earlier.  That this is the first novel of a professor of semiotics http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Semiotics  is mind boggling.  The detail, the level of writing, the pace of the dialogue…is that of someone who has been writing for years.  This book my friends is the direct work of a madman.  He thought about every single little detail.  Let’s take a moment to consider this section in his afterward:

            “My novel had another, working title which was The Abbey of the Crime.  I rejected it because it concentrates the reader’s attention entirely on the mystery story and might wrongly lure and mislead purchasers looking for an action-packed yarn.  The idea of calling my book The Name of the Rose came to me virtually by chance, and I like it because the rose is a symbolic figure so rich in meanings that by now it hardly has any meaning left: Dante’s mystic rose, and go lovely rose, the Wars of the Roses, rose thou art sick, too many rings around Rosie, a rose by any other name, a rose is a rose is a rose is a rose, the Rosicurician.  The title rightly disoriented the reader, who was unable to choose just one interpretation; and even if he were to catch the possible nomialist readings of the concluding verse, he would come to them only at the end, having previously made God only knows what other choices.  A title must muddle the reader’s ideas, not regiment them.”

Good grief man! That’s just the title. And in case you have yet to fully grasp Eco’s mania let me explain to you again how hard this book was to get through. IT WAS HARD! Harder than Don Quixote, (which I love).  Harder than Moby Dick, and for the love that is everything literary it was harder than any Henry James book I ever picked up. How I loathe Henry James…  Back on topic, it really was the first one hundred pages that were the hardest to get through.  Umberto has something so say about that though:

            "   After reading the manuscript, my friends and editors suggested I abbreviate the first hundred pages, which they found very difficult and demanding.  Without thinking twice, I refused, because, as I insisted, if somebody wanted to enter the abbey and live there for seven days, he had to accept the abbey’s own pace.  If he could not, he would never manage to read the whole book.  Therefore those first hundred pages are like a penance or an initiation, and if someone does not like them, so much the worse for him.  He can stay at the foot of the hill.

            Entering a novel is like going on a climb in the mountains: you have to learn the rhythm of respiration, acquire the pace; otherwise you stop right away….Rhythm, pace, penitence… For whom? For me? No, certainly not. For the reader.”

At this point he goes on for pages about how he wanted to construct the perfect reader.  What else do you expect from a man who wrote The Role of the Reader? And his mania doesn’t stop there. Oh no my friend it took him years to write this book, that’s why it’s so detailed. 

            “ The first year of work on my novel was devoted to the construction of the world.  Long registers of all the books that could be found in a medieval library. Lists of names and personal data for many characters, a number of whom were then excluded form the story.  In other words, I had to know who the rest of the monks were, those who do not appear in the book.  It was not necessary for the reader to know them, but I had to know them.  Who ever said that fiction must compete with the city directory? Perhaps it must also compete with the panning board.  There fore I conducted long architectural investigations, studying photographs and floor pans in the encyclopedia of architecture, to establish the arrangement of the abbey, the distances, even the number of steps in a spiral staircase.  The film director Marco Ferreri once said to me that my dialogue is like a movie’s because it last exactly the right length of time.  It had to.  When two of my characters spoke while walking from the refectory to the cloister, I wrote with the plan before my eyes; and when they reached their destination, they stopped talking.”

July 18, 2007

The Wheels on the Bus...

Stoppedbus2

You know, I never actually heard that song until I was about 15 or so. It's all that non-television watching that I did as a small child I guess.  Starting last Monday I started riding the bus to work.  I'm doing this for several reasons:

4) To not waste valuable reading time driving

3) To not fight traffic

2) To be Green.

1) And most importantly: TO SAVE MONEY.  It's 50 bucks a month for a bus pass: vs. 50 bucks a month for parking downtown, plus 80-100 bucks a month for gas, PLUS the 20,000 miles that I put on my car last year.

I'm really enjoying the bus.  And I'll enjoy it a WHOLE lot more when I get some decent headphones.  However, I have been able to read. It's so nice. I just get on the bus, take a seat and spend 30 minutes reading.  Very lovely.  I might actually FINALLY get The Name of the Rose done. Remember that one? I'm STILL not done with it.  It's not even that I wasn't enjoying it. But you know what? It's sooo heavy and long. It's REALLY good, just long. I got about 200 pages read in the last week, which is good. I JUST got to the point where he sleeps with the girl: remember the Christain Slater character? ANYWAY... the book version is of course a lot better. She's not some half-feral girl in the book, just  a local peasant who is hungry and sleeps with nasty old monks to feed herself. So onward into the book we travel.  Just to let you know the book itself is 536 pages meaning that I still have a Lot more reading to do before I get to the end of the story.   

July 16, 2007

Ah Summer

Across_the_floor

Alright, I know, you've caught me loafing.  I've been on vaccation at my parents house and have been FAR, FAR too lazy to use my parent's horrible slow dialup connection.  Plus there was too much fishing and loafing to do for me to bother writing at all.  I did get a bit of reading done, but really not that much. My vaccation wore me out to tell you the truth. 

I did get to finish Across the Nightingale Floor by Lian Hearn. I've really struggled with reviewing this book.  It's a asian fantasy.

As I ponder this some more let's have a bit of information about Lian Hearn.  Lian is a pseudonym  for Gillian Rubinstien, an award winning Austrailian children's author.  She has over 30 books in print.  The Tales of the Otori series is the only set that is published under this pseudonym.

She has this to say about the Nightengale Floor

In Japanese art and literature I am fascinated by the use of silence and asymmetry. I like the concept of ma: the space between that enables perception to occur. I wanted to see if I could use silence in writing. So the style is spare, elliptical and suggestive. What is not said is as important as what is stated.

"Spare" hardly describes it.  This book is almost barren. A lot of science fiction and fantasy books could use a few hundred pages less than they have.  This book is guilty of the opposite.  There's not enough information.  Important characters are trotted out before the reader only to disapear after a few pages.  Who are these people who influence the plot so much? Why don't we get to see them more? Hear about them through other characters more?  Why is so much time spent on Lady Maruyama and her character only to have her tragic death barely acknowledged?  Hearn speeds through some really important plot development in the beginning.  I think that she does this in order to get to the relationship between Shigeru and Takeo.  Instead of spare, her writing ends up seeming harried, often making it difficult to follow the story.  If you get lost and can't follow the characters, it's not due to the fact that the names are foriegn, it is due to the fact that the author flits around character development like a hummingbird. 

And here dear reader, here is my biggest problem with this story:

  The IDEA of the story, the plot, the ideas within the story are Good.  No, that doesn't even describe it. They're amazing! However, the writing and execution of the story are unforgivably bad.  Character development is horrendous, and the entire book is erradic. It's because the story is so good that the writing is so unforgivable.  If you don't believe me on how good the ideas are let me tell you something I find a bit shameful; I am still fighting the urge to read the second one. I keep telling myself that maybe it'll be like Eragon and she'll have grown up a bit. But on the other hand it was SO very very bad that if the second one is just as bad, I'll stew over it for weeks like I did with this one. So right here and now I vow to stop the vicious cycle of abuse to myself and I will NOT read the next one. Someone should have been a better editor and forced her to finish the story properly.  I hear that it's going to be a movie soon. Thankfully she is not the screen writer.