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![]() ![]() ![]() After sitting around in prison for a bit and after a trial, she and her husband were executed). (Since my British history was getting rusty, I looked up a quick synopsis on Wikipedia before I started – to save you the arduous task of Googling it yourself, the basic things you need to know are that Lady Jane Grey was cousin to King Edward VI, who was the son of Henry the Eighth and Jane Seymour, and that when Edward died, Lady Jane Grey was made queen and lasted an entire nine days before she was accused of treason and Mary (Bloody Mary) was named queen. The story is based on Lady Jane Grey, which, if you know anything about her, is not exactly a promising setting for a hilarious, side-splitting story. I knew immediately I was going to love every second. ![]() And she is just THE best narrator ever (just as good as Jim Dale, who reads the Harry Potter series, in my opinion).Īnd she was the PERFECT pick for this book. I’d only passed about two house before I had to pause and confirm that the narrator was Katherine Kellgren.īack when I was commuting to and from my elementary school libraries in Boston, I drove about 30 minutes each way and I spent much of the second half of the year listening to the Bloody Jack series, which she narrated. It had so many rave reviews, especially for the My Lady Jane audio version, that I downloaded it almost immediately and started listening on my morning run. (Big thanks to everyone who suggested it on this summer’s edition of Tell Me What to Read). ![]() For me, there’s nothing better than reading a book that I can recommend far and wide. ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() Good as it is, the plot is merely the delivery system for setting after setting so precisely informed and tone-perfect you won’t believe that Rachel Kushner ’01SOA (born in 1968) wasn’t there personally to taste and smell and see them.Įverything is more vivid than this morning’s breakfast. Not so much because of the plot, which traces the misadventures of a recent art-school grad from Reno who gets led by her heart into the treacheries of New York’s downtown art scene, and then into the treacheries of Italy’s old-money scene, and then into the lice-filled treacheries of Rome’s street-hardened Red Brigades scene. ![]() It’s a leap, but between here and there, if we’re patient, we find an astounding book. Scores of pages later, we discover that the Italian soldier is the founder of a contemporary character’s family fortune. The Flamethrowers begins with a soldier in the Italian motorcycle squadron of World War I braining a German soldier, which initially seems unconnected to the rest of the book, set in the 1970s. You could miss one that’s as gloriously good as this. ![]() If you were ever tempted to give a book only fifty or eighty pages to make its case before you move on to another, here’s proof of why you mustn’t. ![]() |