Orange really IS the new black (minor spoiler warning)

This autumn I, like millions of other people, binge-watched Netflix's hit new series Orange is the new Black. I love it.  Some of my friends hate it; I still don't understand why. This show is just so miraculous on so many levels: it sends me on a roller-coaster of emotions-- and I love when an artist (in any medium) can make me feel. And this show so celebrates women: all types of women, different races and sizes and sexualities, their flaws and their survival skills, their incredible ability to bear suffering.

But at the end of the season, which, if you haven't seen it, is pretty scary and horrifying and violent, I HAD to know: is this real? Do prisons in the US actually work like that? Because what the show depicts in microscopic detail is corruption on a level so deep, it's a wonder the country even holds together.
Now, I have the memory of a goldfish, so it was a complete surprise to me when my mother-in-law gave me the book (same title as the show) for Christmas.  It's a slim paperback (just 299 pages including the afterword.) And it's a fast-paced read that I careened through. Couldn't. Put. It. Down.

the book cover.

Piper Kerman (the author, upon whom the main character of the TV series, Piper Chapman, is based) ends up spending 13 months of a 15 month sentence in a women's prison 10 years after her non-violent drug crime. In that time, she experience degradation, the ineffectuality and indifference of institutions, and of course, powerful doses of love, support, ingenuity, friendship and camaraderie of a motley crew of people brought together in dire circumstances.  But the book is rather light on some of the show's juiciest details: one guard's intense homophobia (specifically against lesbians), one warden's downright criminal running of the prison (from the hint that she stole prison budget for her fancy car to threatening colleagues to covering up a rape), and Piper's affair with her ex-lover, (Nora in the book, Alex in the show). Plus, the lecherous and "rapey" guard Mendez.
If the book's silence on these issues is to be believed, then Netflix is just taking creative license; and there's nothing wrong with that. But Kerman is an advisor on the show's writing team. I have to wonder if she kept some stuff out of the book and is revealing it to the writers.

Taylor Schilling (right) who depicts Piper Kerman (left)

I have to say, OITNB was a bit of a harrowing read. Kerman writes well, but the stuff she relates is hard enough to bear, even without Netflix's lurid additions. I was thrilled and relieved every time I would reach a chapter I'd seen in the show and it turned out actually "easier" than what I'd viewed.
The biggest difference is that Kerman writes in this mature, Zen voice and doesn't make the mistakes her TV counterpart makes-- and nor are the people surrounding her as exaggerated. The show tries to elicit debate about the heroine's merits: she is accused of being selfish, flighty, changeable and whiny. Kerman gets no such abuse and doesn't appear to deserve it. Whether that is the way "things actually went down" or whether Kerman is painting herself in a flattering light and TV writers had to "dress her down", I don't know.
But in both forms, what draws me to this saga is the fantastic depiction of female relationships; they ring so true to me. Watching and reading OITNB is like looking out a dark lake on an overcast day: the water is black and frightening. But every now and then, the sun bursts through the clouds in a tiny ray, and the water flashes blinding gold. Those are the gems, the tiny moments of female companionship that are so moving, so true to life, and so precious.

Such a large female cast- it's fab!

Tug my heartstrings, don't sucker punch my ovaries: Kate Morton still enchants

If you want a sure bet for most any (female) reader on your Christmas shopping list this year, go with Kate Morton.  Though not new on the publishing scene, if the receiver on your list hasn't yet read her works, she's bound to be enthralled after just a few pages.      

 Morton's sumptuous novels are elegantly strewn together to make captivating, touching mysteries.  It is chick-lit at its best: novels that focus on intellectual, emotional women and the hardships of their lives, from infertility and adoption to broken marriages and doomed love affairs.  Unfortunately, I think most male readers will stick to Green Lantern.  But I could be wrong.

 The House At Riverton (2007), Morton’s breakout novel, which is published in Australia as The Shifting Fog, chronicles the lives of an upper-class family in the late 19^th century.  It is narrated from the memories of one of their old housemaids, who now lies dying in a senior’s facility, out of place in the modern age.  Morton is especially talented at writing the narratives of elderly ladies, and both of her Sunday Times best-sellers have senior citizens as their protagonists.  This is a breath of fresh air, when you consider quite a lot of chick-lit is a la Devil Wears Prada and stars young, fashion savvy 20-somethings in the Big City.

From bookdepository.co.uk

The Forgotten Garden (2008), Morton’s second novel, is about a grand-daughter who takes up the cross-continental search for her grandmother’s birth parents.  The novel jumps smoothly from different characters, locations and time periods, and the reader’s attention is held by the fast-pace of the changing plot.  But, one may find, as I did, that Morton’s characters tend to be a little static.

My biggest criticism of her work is that after reading both the books, the characters are indiscernible from one another, and her style, though easy on the eyes, was so changeless that these two separate works felt to me like one, continuous world.  That being said, though I wouldn't read 20 Kate Morton books back-to-back, I thoroughly enjoy picking up her up at least once a year, and I always pick up her newest releases when they hit the shelves at Costco.  Then I cozy up with my tissues, cocoa, nail polish and nature soundtrack for some quality girl time.

From railbirds.com

Both novels contain unforeseen twists and the secrets, which lure the reader in, are more complicated than I’d originally anticipated.  The books are extensively researched and even though they’re not incredibly insightful, the prose is loftier than the Shopaholic series.  Morton has a formula that she sticks to, but that’s not to say that her stories aren’t fluid and addictive.  I literally found a hiding place at my summer job so that I could curl up and enjoy the final chapters uninterrupted (it was under my boss' desk...he was never in his upstairs office). 

Her newest books, The Distant Hours (2011) and The Secret Keeper (2013) are on my Christmas wishlist.  They're bound to be the emotional, misty-eye-inducing plots that everyone loves a dose of, minus the Nicholas Sparks hyperbole.  I don't know about you, but I like the little subtlety in my chick lit; more of a tugging on my heartstrings rather than a sucker punch to my ovaries.

Don't quote me on it, but I'm pretty sure Costco and Indigo have four packs of all Morton's works.  Or if you don't want to chance it, go with just Riverton-- so far, it's my favourite.  You can't lose with the roaring '20s, a troubled poet and a tragic mystery.  If you're feeling extra generous, pair with a vintage tea cup, some herbal teas, or a scented candle for the ultimate girly-girl reading experience.

You can check out KM talking about Distant Hours here. 

Gotta book it!

xox

JEM