Daily Gratitude - Day 7

Jay will sometimes joke with me if I’m really into a book and ignoring him, “Hey...how’s that passion  of yours coming along?” or something along those lines. You see, we’ve had more than one conversation where I compare myself to him, a man who absolutely invests, commits and enjoys his own passions, and complain that I have none of my own.

“You love reading,” he usually responds in an attempt to soothe my self-loathing. Is it fair to compare reading 50 or so books a year to someone who gets up at 5 am, everyday, to train for marathons? Or, someone who meticulously studies the genetics of cattle, going so far as traveling for an artificial insemination course in central Utah so that he won’t have to hire anyone to do something he figures he can do just as well.  Heck - it’s not about saving money - he enjoys it! It’s all part of the passion that brings balance and fulfillment to his life.

We enjoy the fruits of his passions as well. He is hard-working and dependable and interesting and handy and so very much fun to be with. I think it’s a good thing to admire your husband, yes? I do so admire his passions.

And, so, if the incomparable act of reading books really is my passion, is it as worthy of admiration? What do I accomplish other than having that greater empathy I mentioned a few days ago? I am an excellent contributor at book club. I am usually quite reliable to be able to recommend a book or two or three off the top of my head should anyone be desperate for a recommendation. Oh...if only reading a book burned calories! Then my inevitably svelte body would certainly garner some praise.

“But how do you find the time to read?"

"It’s just a matter of priorities. An hour or two a day is all anybody needs.”

These are just a few of the quotes I found on pinterest about being passionate about fitness, which, I think is a passion that gets more kudos than most:

“Excuses are for people who don’t want it bad enough.”

“Fit is not a destination. It is a way of life.”

“What have you done today to make you feel proud?”

“Stop waiting for things to happen.  Go out and make them happen.”

(Great. Now I just want to go work out! Those motivational posters really work!)

I just finished Liane Moriarty’s Big Little Lies and it’s not Pulitzer literature but it’s more than dumb chick lit. I really have a lot on my mind right now from reading it. Like, the appearances we put on for others vs. our real selves. The power of words - all kinds of words - from gossip, threats, confessions and testimonies. The competitiveness and insecurity of parenting. How genuine friendship can heal wounds. I really enjoyed reading it. I really enjoy reading.

Maybe it’s a passion. It’s just not the adjective usually associated with reading. Avid...yes. Really, have you ever seen a more overused adjective to describe someone who likes to read? “So and so is an avid reader.” Thesaurus says “ardent, devoted, eager, fanatical, fervent, hungry, impatient, insatiable, keen, PASSIONATE, ravenous, thirsty, voracious (o.k. That one is also used a lot), zealous, rapacious, greedy and intense are all synonyms of avid. So, I’m an avid, voracious, passionate reader. The other ones all seem a bit...violent. No wonder they aren’t used.

O.K. Here goes.

Reading a book is not a destination. It is a way of life. 

Too tired to read? Enjoy that mushy brain. 

No book gets read just book looking at its cover. 

I wanted to read that book...I wanted it bad. 

Oh! The power of motivational quotes!

I love books. I love thinking. Reading gets me thinking.

I’m a reader. And, today, on this 7th day of gratitude, I’m glad to have something in my life that I enjoy so much.

Book Review: The Handmaid’s Tale

I just got on to the computer to finish this book review that I started writing three weeks ago and it was gone.  A window closed by someone other than me....erasing thoughts that I don’t really want to rethink. I have lost my habit of writing book reviews but I wanted to jot down my thoughts about this stunning book and be as articulate as I could because this story really affected me. I’m annoyed that I have to try and remember passionate reactions that have dimmed each passing day but hope that by writing this, I will be able to converse about this book in the future - a feat I am only able to do if I take the time to write about it. Here’s my take two!

First of all, I think this book qualifies as amazing. That is why I gave it five stars on Goodreads.  Not because I loved it and not because I learned something I didn’t know before but because the plot caused me to reflect on my gender, my religion, my politics, my government, my beliefs and my world. Furthermore, I believe my experience with The Handmaid’s Tale was enhanced by listening to the audio version narrated by Claire Danes. I just so happen to also be watching Season 2 of Homeland on Netflix and Claire Danes’ character in that series is brilliant but also suffers from bipolar disorder. Her voice, not a soothing one but filled with panic and confusion, absolutely lent credence to Offred, the handmaid in this tale, and her fear and paranoia about who she could trust in her instinct for survival. In addition to the effectiveness of Danes’ voice was the fact that, essentially, this story was given orally.  Most of the book is narrated in first person until the very last chapter, which is an epilogue of sorts. In this final thought, the narration switches to third person where an academic lectures to an audience about his study of a collection of cassette tapes discovered and believed to have been reordered during what was known as “The Gilead Era.” The cassettes were transcribed into “The Handmaid’s Tale” and he added context, history and theories about who might have made them and what might have been her fate. So, I felt like I was actually listening to those recovered audiocassettes. It worked really well.

I’ve wanted to read something by Margaret Atwood for years as she is a favorite author of a highly esteemed friend but I didn’t really know anything about her books or style other than I’ve seen The Handmaid’s Tale and Blind Assassin on several modern classic lists.  Luck of the draw or fate or what have you led me to this book at just the right time. You see, I’ve been thinking a lot about women lately- our roles, our rights, our responsibilities - and Atwood’s dystopic look at how bad things could become as well as the conditions that existed in the society before it got to that point blew me away.  Because more than any other book I’ve read that warns or imagines the way life could be....if....Atwood’s tale of subjugation based on ideology seems so possible.  At least, it doesn’t seem so science-fiction-y or futuristic that it’s too difficult to glean the here and now similarities. That doesn’t mean I think women are eventually going to wear red habits or winged hats that limit their vision to straight ahead or even that I think Christian fundamentals are a dangerous threat to America but if Atwood’s Republic of Gilead could be placed in other parts of the globe, then it’s already happening.  There are places, particularly those places in the news right now, where a woman’s right to education, personal style, marriage, economic independence and belief is dictated by someone else, usually a man. I just read an article yesterday about Boko Haram’s announcement that the more than 200 school girls his radical group kidnapped in Nigera back in April are now all converted to Islam and married to soldiers. I want to cry. These women are not valued beyond their gender and reproductive capabilities.  As a woman who is grateful for my uterus, respectful of its powers and disturbed by so many’s casual disregard of it, still, I know that I am not my uterus. I am me. Influenced by my gender, certainly, but not contained by it.

Segregation between the roles of women and men was certainly a major theme in Atwood’s novel but it wasn’t exclusive.  Women were further segregated into “Aunts” (trainers and enforcers of other women - a governmental role), “Marys” (cleaners and cooks of households), “Wives” (elite but infertile) “Handmaids” (undecorated women given to a husband and wife for the purpose of conceiving a child) and the even less fortunate who were sent out to an area known as the colonies to clean radioactive waste and die. It was interesting to me that one of the tools to successfully isolate women was to pit them against each other. Don’t we do that a bit now?

Another major theme in the book was the time it takes to transition between lifestyles and how this particular generation of handmaids felt sad because they could remember their former lives but that the next generation, conditioned to believe what they were doing was noble and best and not having knowledge of anything different, would have no regrets. I wonder if that is true. Certainly we can be conditioned to believe certain things but history has shown time and time again that there is an innate hunger for personal liberty and emancipation from oppression. Indeed, from the perspective of the epilogue, we see that this extreme society of Gilead did not last. It’s still shocking to me that there are some who would want to try.

If I had any disappointment with the book it is that towards the end, the story got a little too caught up in the sexual needs, corruption and dysfunction within the society. But, who is to say that that actually wouldn’t happen when it is so unnaturally regulated? I suppose what I missed was Offred’s earlier voice that was used so effectively to explain the past to present. By the end, I felt like the story was hyper focused on her relationships with Nick and the commander.

That disappointment, however, felt minor compared to the big picture ideas presented within Atwood’s storytelling.  The slippery slope of governmental control.  Personal rights vs. what is best for society. Religious persecution and perversion. What it means to be a woman. What it means to be human. All brilliantly and accessibly told by Atwood.

My immediate comment upon finishing this book was that I was “gasping from amazement and fear.” A month’s passing has stopped the gasping but I’m still amazed. And I still fear.

Book Review #1 - The Goldfinch

Reading a book with as much hype as The Goldfinch is an interesting experience.  Every sentence carries the burden of great expectation and each page is weighted with anticipated excellence.  I certainly bought into the hype and, mostly, I was not disappointed. Until the end. I really disliked the ending.

Donna Tartt has us readers invest in her flawed and well-crafted protagonist, Theo Decker, who from the very first page is clearly in some sort of trouble, as he reflects back on how he came in possession of a famous painting, The Goldfinch during a terrorist attack at New York’s Metropolitan Museum of Art. After briefly being introduced to adult Theo, who explains that a dream about his mother is the impetus for the story to come, we are taken back to witness an injured and traumatized 13 year-old Leo, disoriented and separated from his beloved mother amidst the mayhem of a bombing, innocently take a priceless and famous painting from the wreckage. Not knowing how to explain how or why he took it, orphaned and despondent upon learning about the death of his mother in the attack, he secretly keeps it, more out of fear than greed, turning a tragic moment of confusion into a soul-crushing crime that influences every future decision he makes. Just like the Fabritius’s goldfinch, his life becomes chained to that painting.

One part of the story that confused me a bit was the time span. 13 year-old Theo possessed an iPod and the setting seemed to be present day. But his future, older story-telling self also seemed to be set in present day. I couldn’t figure out if the explosion that set Theo’s tragic trajectory in motion was set in the past, like the 1990s, or if his older, more ruined self existed in the future and it was sort of science-fiction-y without the science fiction. I pointed out my confusion to my mother, who had finished my copy from the library right before me, but she didn’t notice it (or care) so perhaps it doesn’t matter, but I often found myself troubled about the progression of time without any obvious progress in time. Not too troubled though, because the writing is so engrossing that I was mostly absorbed in whatever scene Tartt threw Theo into, whether it was in a ghost town, foreclosed neighborhood in Las Vegas drinking Vodka with his Russian and equally neglected by his father friend, Boris, selling antique furniture with his rescuing guardian, Hobie, in lower Manhattan, or hiding from the Dutch police and Russian mafia in Amsterdam.  Every shift in Theo’s world was fully developed and his guilt and obsession with The Goldfinch prominently staged as the major contributor to his mental decline. In that regard, I kept comparing this complex book to Poe’s The Tell Tale Heart or Dostoyevesky’s Crime and Punishment.  For most of the 700 plus pages, I actually thought I was reading a modern retelling of either of those great accounts of obsession and guilt.

Until I got to the last 60 or so pages. Everything was going along swimmingly…depressing, for sure, but good, well-developed depressing, when Tartt decided to go with the bad ending.  I had forgotten, but the book did begin with Theo stating he was telling his story. Still, even with the first person narration, I never felt that Theo was actually writing the story. Novels often use flashbacks or first person recollections, and Theo’s recollection, once started, proceeded in an orderly, chronological retelling that I felt jolted when the past caught up to present day and Theo began to refer to me as his reader. The change in tone from recollective to persuasive irritated me for some reason.  Suddenly, there was an intimacy in the story, a confessional conversation between Theo and me and I felt like the purpose and direction of the story changed. Instead of me neutrally observing Theo and the chaos his drug dependency and PTSD gave to his life, I was now required to sympathetically agree with Theo and his philosophies about right and wrong, good and evil, God and fate and agency and death. To be honest, I got annoyed. I wanted to go there by myself, if that was where the story directed me. It bordered on the moral of the story being spoon fed to me, as if the author didn’t trust me enough to figure it out, if there was anything to figure out, on my own. In my opinion, I would have loved for the story to end where it started, in Amsterdam, with Theo’s personal Road to Damascus experience. I would have loved to have wondered what he did after that.

Can an ending I dislike ruin an otherwise incredible book? A little bit. I think this book is stock full of wonder and literary gold. But, like the cliche goes, that last bite left a bad taste in my mouth.

Book Review #16 - Broken Harbor

Ultimately, this book was too far fetched for me to enjoy. I really admire much of French's style of writing. I've read all of her Dublin murder squad books and liked the first one, Into the Woods, best because the formula wasn't obvious yet. Now, I know something mental is going to happen to the lead detective's investigation and, this time, it seemed unnecessary. Besides that, all of the insanity or characters that experienced mental breakdowns (I counted 9) was overkill. What was the point? That it was caused by the location of Broken Harbor? That the recession and lack of work produces hallucinations and a personality switch? That you didn't have a chance at a normal life if you had a mental illness in your family history or heredity?

The resolution didn't work for me either...all of those lengthy, lengthy monologues and confessionals. Too neat and convenient. Throw in WAY too much information on rodent and animal life, cops reneging on their own character development and too much sympathy all around for the eventual guilty party and I don't even know why I'm giving this three stars. Probably, they were earned during the first half of the book, which was really good.

I fear the next story will be Richie's and his dopey end annoyed me. This is probably the end of the line for Tana French and me.

Book Review #15 - The Great Gatsby

Even though I originally read this in high school and had the expected indoctrination of this-is-why-this-book-is-so-great, my fifteen year-old self still thought it was great. After re-reading it this week, my 37 year-old self loves it even more.

I wanted to read it again before I saw the new Baz Luhrman movie adaptation but didn't get around to it. I was surprised when I didn't adore the movie. I thought the marriage of a great book and Luhrman's decadent style would be perfect for me. I liked it well enough (I've loved his other movies: Moulin Rouge and Romeo and Juliet) and really enjoyed the mash-up of an updated soundtrack with the elaborate time period costuming but there was something irritating about it all. I thought it was Leo DiCaprio's acting but after finishing the book, I don't think that's it. Instead, to my surprise, I think the movie overdid all of the parties in the beginning. Not that the parties weren't accurately portrayed and the indulgence and depravity present as described by Fitzgerald but the book was able to describe the parties and mention their frequency without having to place the reader in the tiring environment for long.

Because, the book isn't only about the shallow excess of the era. It is about a great obsession. While I read, I realized how closely the dialogue of the movie matched the book but subtle descriptive words and Fitzgerald's absolute masterful grasp of phrasing was able to soften my judgment of all these ridiculous people and allow the tragedy of misplaced ambition to touch me.

This absolutely has a place in America's classrooms and deserves its label of The Great American Novel. I loved it.

Book Review #14 - Eleanor and Park

At my children's "country" elementary school, there library there also serves as a branch library to the rural community. It is small but does usually have a copy of the hard to get a hold of new releases so, if I'm picking up one of my children, I often go in and find something to read. The librarian working is always the same and we have gotten to know each other during check-out and return times.

How much do I love that she had a book I had never heard of reserved for me just because she thought I might like it? A lot. She had just finished reading it and said, "I kept thinking you'd like it as I read it." This is so strange because we really don't know each other but maybe she knows me better than I know her since she knows what I read.

She was right. I really liked it. I was a pretty normal teenager. Honestly, I think every teen feels like a big freak but I usually don't relate to books like Perks of Being A Wallflower because I was involved and had friends and did sports and all that "uncool" stuff to those who rebuff the mainstream either by choice or by force. I couldn't finish Perks because of all of the sex and drugs but this book was able to highlight the difficulties of kids who don't fit in without making either of the characters degenerates. I adored Eleanor. I loved her thoughts and her insecurities and her coping skills. I hated her family. I wondered which kids I ignored because of their clothes or weirdness might have had home lives like Eleanor. Park was a little less believable to me because his isolation seemed more self-imposed.

Still, there is a moment in the plot when Eleanor and Park are in an English class and studying Romeo and Juliet and the teacher is trying to engage the students to think why such a sad story has survived the test of time as well as it has. Predictable answers are given until Eleanor suggests that it reminds people what it feels like to be young and in love.

This book does just that. I never had a high school romance as intense as the one experienced between Eleanor and Park but I have fallen in love and the description and progression of that magical discovery that someone likes you just as much as you like them is perfect. The nuanced secondary characters, awesome 80s references, tragic backgrounds and formidable odds to overcome made this read that much more sweet.

Book Review #13 - Juliet

If you're a fan of romances and the story of Romeo and Juliet, this story is probably right up your alley. It's mostly clean although there is a bit of totally unnecessary language that doesn't belong at all. I am pretty tolerant of language in books if its use fits the circumstance or character and neither criteria was met here.

The author attempts to showcase the historical lore behind the classic Romeo and Juliet story. I enjoyed learning that Shakespeare was most likely not the creator of the star-crossed lovers tale but merely produced the most famous rendition. I also enjoyed being taken back to medieval times, even if the speech and actions of the main characters didn't seem very authentic.

The modern day romance is what really annoyed me. I have found this to be the case in a lot of stories set up like this. Coming immediately to mind is Sarah's Key and Possession (although it works better in Possession) but I did not believe or care about the romance between the discoverers of the historical mystery. In fact, their conversations were torture for me. I felt like I was reading a very novice author (think high school level) writing dialogue. Oh, she definitely had a thesaurus at hand for the word "said" and used "whispered" "gloated" "hissed" "moaned"....just about any word other than "said" but if felt terribly trite and juvenile to me. When I finished the book and learned that the author grew up and only moved to the US in 2002, it almost explained the irritating use of English. It just didn't feel natural.

Like I said, if unbelievable dialogue doesn't bother you and you really do like Romeo and Juliet but want to learn about some different twists to the well-known tale, you might like this. Unfortunately to this book snob, all that "hissing" and "moaning" ruined it for me.

Book Review #12 - The Round House

Having only read Erdich's book, Shadow Tag, previously, my expectations were low and cautious as I began her National Book Award winner The Round House.  I'm glad I tried again because The Round House is pretty worthy of its hype. I didn't love it because I felt it unnecessarily crude at times as well as curiously infuriating but there is no denying the craftsmanship of the writing - from the weaving of a mystery, coming of age and folklore - to its scope of highlighting the unique problems of the Native American tribal justice. Even though it fell short of becoming a favorite of mine, reading this book brought light to ignorance and made me care about fictitious characters, hallmarks of worthy books, in my opinion.

As for my gripes, the protaganist, Joe, is a 13 year old boy who sometimes seems 13, sometimes 8 and sometimes 20. I know that age can be difficult to capture.  Heck, I have a 13 year old so I get it. But his behavior was so peculiar and unpredictable. Still, his world was ripped apart with the violent crime against his mother and the stress and tension it created within his once peaceful home. There were many times throughout the novel that I felt irritated and impatient with Erdich for taking me on another teenage escapade filled with all the language and crassness of boys in groups. Those events eventually contribute to the heartbreaking finale but it was not very pleasant to be repeatedly treated to what a boy thinks about breasts, dirt bikes, beer and food. Maybe I'd have given this book five stars had Erdich's 13 year old been a bit more virtuous:-)

This is compelling literature about contemporary Native American life. It corrected more than one stereotype of mine. Rich with symbolism, this is the kind of book that should be read.

Book Review #11 - To Say Nothing of the Dog

Sometimes, not always and not really all that often, I read a book without reading the book jacket summary or anything about it on Goodreads. For some reason, perhaps the small print on this small paperback, I simply relied that it was a favorite of a friend of mine, was reportedly funny (I love funny books) and its title and author seemed British. It's a horrible and undoubtedly untrue stereotype but there is something inherently more "classy" about a British comedy compared to an American one.

Why in the world I assumed Connie Willis was a British male I have no idea, but it turns out SHE is American, born and living in Colorado and is a major science fiction author. These realizations set me back a bit when I learned that To Say Nothing of the Dog involved time travel, a whole lot of details about historical wars, literature I had not read and an exhausting, book long search for a repeatedly described bird stump that I still could never accurately visualize or imagine because I have no idea what a bird stump is. It was set in Great Britain so maybe I need to add to my flawed sterotype that brits put things weird and ugly things for birds to land on inside their great cathedrals. Whether this adds to their class or humor, I have no idea.

Regardless of my ignorance, I still found this story to be complex, engaging, confusing, entertaining and very, very funny. I loved the characters - extreme and one sided as Willis portrayed them. It's not a particularly easy book to read and I admit that reading a few summaries would have helped a great deal in my ability to get into this book at its beginning but I'm glad I read it. Combine Back To The Future with Time Traveler's Wife and you'll be head scratching and smiling at the same time.

Book Review #10 - Where You'd Go, Bernadette?

I saw this in paperback at Sam's Club the other day and realized it must have become an "it" book. I remembered that I loved it and that, so far, almost no one that I know that has read it since has liked it nearly as well as I did and so I wanted to come back and defend or at least explain my "it was amazing" rating.

I think every once in a while, a book comes a long that just resonates with certain readers. Maybe it's the message that rings true or a character that helps us understand ourselves or someone else a little better. Whatever it is, there was a connection between myself and this book and an almost electric current ran between my hands and its pages while I read.

I think it likely due to the fact that this woman, Bernadette, saw the ridiculous all around her. Sure, a cheery person will see Bernadette's point of view as critical and unhelpful, but I felt myself nodding and laughing when she described the overzealousness and competitiveness of school mom volunteers, the futility of cooking and shopping, the absurdity of living in Seattle - from its weather, streets, architecture, hair care, language, diet, style and recreation , the prejudice of loving your own child above all the rest and the simultaneously hilarious and depressing awareness of knowing you are the biggest problem of all.

As far as plots go...whatever. I didn't read this to find out what happened to Bernadette the day her husband staged an intervention to commit her to a mental hospital and she disappeared. The plausibility of sneaking onto ships in Antarctica and a fifteen year old solving it all isn't very likely. As far as uplifting material goes...I get that it's dark. Bernadette really is suffering and it's undoubtedly unfair to laugh at/with a woman who on good days hides dirty dishes in drawers and on bad days causes full on mudslides which result in the destruction of her annoying neighbor's house.

In spite of my awareness that this book won't be everybody's cup of delicious hot cocoa, I found the satire, writing, pacing, morale, and, above all, character of Bernadette to be the most fun I've read in a while. Maria Semple - I think you get me. I'm glad I'm not nearly as crazy as Bernadette but I'm so glad I got to vent a little bit through her. No worries though, if this isn't your thing. You you read this, you'll see the humor in that last sentence. Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha.

Book Review #9 - The Wednesday Wars

I am so glad I picked this up on a whim at the library. Actually, I picked up Gary Schmidt's Okay For Now on a whim and when I saw that he had a Newberry Winner called The Wednesday Wars and the blurbs on the back said it was just as good as his award winning The Wednesday Wars, I went back and got that book instead.

It is adorable and funny and tender and insightful and historic and frustrating and well written! I have only ever read Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet and it just about kicked my tail (I find the movie adaptations easier on my brain) and my only eyebrow raise is how easily a seventh grader seemed to digest and comprehend that old English style. Regardless, his enjoyment of Shakespeare and his subsequent application and interpretation of his famous plays exposed the very motivation and connection I feel with reading: that art imitates life, or vice versa, and we can gleam the human experience through any generation with books. I can only imagine how delightful a well-versed Shakespeare love would find this book.

It's more than the smart use of Shakespeare, however, that make this so much fun to read. Holling Hoodhood's relationships with his friends, he teachers, his family, as well as his embarrassments and triumphs make this a compelling read. As a warning, it is juvenile literature. The shenanigans and conflict feel young, even younger than a current-day seventh grade boy might experience, because it is set in 1968 when schools were run differently and polite society had a much different emphasis. However, I actually found that innocence and conservativeness a much more effective story telling method than the crassness and shocking nature of todays young adult literature. Whether a seventh grader finds is as relevant will soon be discovered as I've already passed it on to my own almost thirteen year old son. I can't wait for him to read it!


I heartily recommend this book to all readers of any age. It was really, really good.

Book Review # 8 - Flight Behavior

Barbara Kingsolver meshes Monarch butterflies and the threat climate changes poses to their survival with a melancholy marriage set in rural Appalachia in her novel, Flight Behavior. Without any doubt, Kingsolver is a magnificent writer able to challenge and question perceived tradition and morality with her metaphorical and graceful writing. Unfortunately, she seems to stumble over her own agenda in Flight Behavior and the effect is a somewhat disjointed and frequently boring story.

Dellarobia, who, sadly, is never offered a better nickname, discovers a forest full of Monarch butterflies while walking towards an abandoned mountain dwelling to begin an extramarital affair. The sighting stops her and the remainder of the book deals with the butterflies - why they are in Tennessee and not Mexico where they belong - as well as why she initially wanted to escape from her marriage and if the butterfly discovery, with its subsequent impact on her relationships and family life, changes that fact.

I wish Kingsolver had chosen to be more subtle. Her feelings towards climate change as well as ignorant red-necks is unapologetic and judgmental. She developed some interesting characters but only ever allowed Dellarobia (again...that name is so painful to my brain) to change or grow. But her change was so orchestrated and predictable, I felt, that even it wasn't satisfying or helpful.

I believe in climate change. I think there is plenty of data and evidence to support those that say the world is warming and, with that warming, uncomfortable changes to all life is inevitable.  What bothered me in this book was her tone used through characters like Ovid and Patrick that humans and the media and how our sloppy, selfish ways are all to blame. It is more interesting because she takes quite a bit of time explaining the difference between correlation and causation to explain the uncertainty of the butterfly migration but doesn't seem to see its application with climate change itself.

The entire book would feel obnoxious in the hands of a less talented author but Kingsolver does manage some excellent story telling in between her preaching. Her descriptions and settings are vivid and intimate and I could see the forest of butterflies as well as stains on her two-year olds clothes. While not from Appalachia, I could see the trucks and the cigarettes and the isolation and the beauty. Like all places, there is a struggle between the old and the new, tradition versus change and stereotypes threatening sincerity. I'm sure a dyed-in-the-wool (that cliche was used on purpose in honor of the wool dying done in the book) environmentalist will love this book. It is their truth. But, in terms of the future of butterflies and certainly the purpose of marriage - it is not mine.

Book Review #7 - The Secret Keeper

Kate Morton is one of those authors that found a successful niche in literature and has been reaping the rewards from writing novels that women like: smart family dramas involving generations of women,  a mystery from the past that needs to be solved all set in picturesque England. Really, I don't know why I have only finished two of her novels and not all of them.

I thoroughly enjoyed The Secret Keeper.  Dorothy Nicolson is dying and her daughter, famous actress Laurel Nicholson, is determined to finally face the horrible violent act she witnessed between her beloved mother and a stranger on a warm summer day in 1961 when she was 16 years old. The book is organized into three main sections: Laurel, Dolly and Viven.  These three women are the main characters of the book but the narration mainly focuses and fluctuates between Laurel as a young woman still living at home and her as a 70 year old woman and Dorothy, or Dolly, as a young women living during the buildup and breakout of World War II as well as a dying 90 year old. Viven is mentioned regularly in the first two sections of the book but only as a mysterious periphery character who changes depending on when she appears in the timeline. We finally get to know Vivien, as a young girl and woman, in the final section of the book when all the previous development starts to make sense. There are also shadings of a man named Jimmy, Dolly's love interest as a young woman, and a few other interesting secondary characters whose relationships with the three main women cast them all in different lights.

What I find fascinating about books like these is how well timed and in control the author lays out her plot. Because it isn't chronological at all, and certain scenes repeat and change as they are viewed from the perspectives of different characters, there is so much false foreshadowing. Perhaps false isn't the right adjective but definitely incomplete. There is one scene in particular that happens early on in the book that kept anchoring my ending guessing. I couldn't stray too far from my original hypothesis because I knew this certain conversation had to eventually take place. Then, when it took place again but through different eyes, nothing had changed in conversation but everything had in point of view and tone. I believe most mystery readers enjoy trying to piece clues together and finish the puzzle before the author gives it all away but unlike some authors, Morton neither makes it too easy nor impossible. Each time I was fairly certain I had figured out the mystery of Dorothy Nicolson, Morton would make me doubt myself with new information. I was pleased when I shut the book and could say, "I knew it!" but, the reality is, I knew it, then thought I must be wrong, then wondered, then changed my mind, then knew it again. Morton really knows how to take her readers on a ride.

While there are a few meaningful ideas that would be nice to discuss, such as that prejudice that all young people seem to have against becoming their parents as well as the impetus or chain of grief, I think this kind of story is best read in the spirit of entertainment rather than in pursuit of historic or familial understanding. Upon finishing this novel, I consider myself entertained.

Book Review #6 - Tenth of December

I hadn't heard of this book until I went into our local bookshop and it was prominently displayed with a "Best Read of 2013!" bookmark sticking out of it. I didn't buy it, because I was in there to buy another book and I'm pretty stingy with hardcovers, but when I saw it on the shelf of new releases at the library, I snatched it up.

Best read of 2013 it is not, for me, but this collection of short stories by George Saunders, who currently teaches creative writing at Syracuse University, is certainly fascinating. I liked the first person, journal entry style narration that he used throughout the book, although it was so casual at times that I wondered how he would grade a student's paper written this way. Every time the thought, "I don't know why anyone would think this is extraordinary,"came to my mind, which it did while reading nearly every short story, a plot trick or his unexpected use of science fiction would immediately elevate the writing to a "wow" level. If he intended to showcase the difference between great language and mediocre language in a small space then he succeeded. It's like looking at a Jaguar and a Kia side by side. He really can be impressive with his words when he wants to be.

But I don't think that was his point. I think the unpolished and rough writing was done purposely to match the various unsavory or rough characters featured in each story. I wish I had a favorite story of the ten included in this work, or one that I just couldn't stop thinking about days later to elevate my opinion of this book. It's not that I need cute and cuddly characters to root for. Believe me, there are no cute and cuddly characters. The book begins with a story about a hapless teenager forced to decide whether to be brave or safe, which was interesting until the end. There is a horrific story about two women involved in the sale of a puppy who think they are being the best parent and spouse possible. There are stories that feature a sleazy salesman, a financial idiot, a soldier, a long-winded boss, a dying cancer patient and a socially unaware overweight boy. These stories are rather depressing although each is written with a sharp, uncomfortable humor that doesn't make if funny but also doesn't make it dreary. More like scary dark.

So, whoever wrote, "Best read of 2013!" must like scary dark with a side of twisted humor.  I don't know if I would have liked his style better if I could have become attached to these characters in a longer format or if someone explained to me why all these stories were thrown together into one book or if I hadn't started reading with really high expectations but I finished The Tenth of December feeling disappointed. I appreciate that there were many flashes of brilliance but, overall, other than being a bit shocked at times, nothing made me feel more aware of those unknown lives surrounding me or the all-encompassing human experience. Just that his view of that experience is that most people, in whatever class of life, are rather pathetic.

Book Review #4 - The End of Your Life Bookclub

A nice book about a mother and son who both enjoy reading and how their interest in books strengthened their bond during the mother's treatment and progression of pancreatic cancer.  Definitely a book readers will appreciate as it reaffirms what I have always found to be true: that reading is a gateway to understanding the world and each other.

As horrible as this sounds, at times I wish the author had decided to write a fictionalized novel instead of a memoir/biography.  I know! Horrible!  It's not that the book isn't well written.  It is.  It's not that the book's arc doesn't develop well.  It does.  It's not even that the characters aren't interesting.  They are.  My only explanation is that I stay focused better when I'm reading a story that can stay with the story and not leave it to explain this, that and the other facts surrounding both his and his mother's life and background.  But that is my own weakness with non-fiction...the flow.

My favorite part of the book, by far, was the weight Will Schwalbe gave books.  Bookclubs get a bad rap and Schwalbe himself lightly mocks them by admitting that the bookclub his mother and he forms breaks all the rules as there is no food served and it only has two members.  As frustrating as book clubs can be, and they often are, I love that a book has the power to gather and join minds.  Even when I disagree with someone about something we've read, I am still delighted that we have that commonality of experience.  Will proves the worth of not only reading, but reading with the anticipation of discussion by the way he lovingly tributes the thoughts and beliefs of his mother with each book discussed.  It sounds like a country song, but I like this quote from the book: "Reading isn't the opposite of doing; it's the opposite of dying."

If you like to read and want some affirmation that you're spending your time wisely, this book is for you.

Book Review #3 - Reached

I think when a book is one in a series, it's hard to judge it on its individual merits.  Reached, number three in Ally Condie's Matched triology, is about Cassia, Ky and Xander's realization that along with the power to choose, a freedom not previously experienced in their young adult lifetime, there is often pain. Loss. Heartbreak. Guilt. And, of course, love. This is a young adult series with two guys wanting the same girl, after all.

Although this is not an LDS book and should appeal to readers anywhere of any faith (or none) the theme of agency and accountability is one that is familiar and pivotal to members of our church.  For this reason, perhaps, I didn't find the characters' journeys all that startling or even very interesting.  I loved the first book.  I thought Condie's choice to portray a futuristic, dystopian society featuring happy, productive people instead of the more familiar scary and looming forced conformity was smart.  Because I've always been a believer that it is better to have good and bad so that we can know the difference and more fully appreciate the good, I found myself really thinking about a place where the things we seek after - good health, happy families, satisfying work and hobbies - are all but guaranteed. Sure, it was obvious that something was missing but because I felt those good things through Cassia's and Xander's experience,  in a way, I didn't want it to go away.  They were likable and good.

Ky was used to illustrate what happens to the imperfections.  To achieve perfect health, the risks (foods, vices, idleness) against it were taken away.  Likewise, to achieve perfect societies, those who disobeyed rules or were even born to those who disobeyed rules, were taken away.  As Ky, classified as an Abberation or an outcast because his parents were part of the Rising, was also a character to root for, the conundrum was established.  Who or what should go?  Those threats to perfection or perfection itself?

I suppose I needed to set that all up to explain that I did get the point.  I liked the point.  I just didn't like the story anymore.  As much as I enjoyed Matched, the first book in the series, I equally disliked Crossed, the second book.  Take that as a lesson in opposition! I had no idea where Reached would fall in the spectrum and due to its length, grueling repetitiveness (Cassia loves poetry and is thinking, hiding, trading, or writing poems to express how she feels about any topic.  Xander is learning about the nature of viruses while he thinks about Cassia.  Ky flies a plane while thinks about Cassia. Who is the Pilot? Who is the Pilot? Who is the Pilot?) and predictability, it falls closer to Crossed than Matched.  Everything felt so tedious to me.  From finding a cure (twice!) to waiting for something, anything to make the love triangle more interesting (everyone liked and respected each other an awful lot) I just kept waiting for the action to happen.  Either the conflict was too long in development or simply not overwhelming enough to notice, but I felt like there was no climax.  At least no page-turning one.  I also got tired of the Capitilizations.  Pilot.  Society.  Rising.  Otherlands.  Plague.  I felt irked each time one of those words popped up in a sentence.  If you've read the book, you have an idea about the frequency of the emotion.  What I did enjoy was Xander's growth as his eyes were open to both his limitations as well as his innate talents.  I know he had alternating chapters but I wish there would have been even more about Xander.

So, I liked it but I didn't love it and because I wanted this book to redeem the series for me, I feel disappointed.

Book Review #2 - The Sense of An Ending

I don't know if Julian Barnes meant his title to be ironic but his ending for this book made no sense to me.  Again, maybe that was on purpose.  As a literary tool, endings can lift, resolve, change and ruin the story that preceded it.  And, as authors must both find a relief and burden, all books must end.  What's the best way to do that?

At first, I thought Barnes's The Sense of An Ending would have an ending as philosophically self evident as its narrator, Tony, repeatedly declared and quoted was the only realistic possibility of any history, that is "the certainty produced at the point where the imperfections of memory meet the inadequacies of documentation."  As Tony discovered throughout his attempts at nostalgia and navel gazing, memories of which he was certain changed with additional witnesses.  Moreover, memories long since forgotten were remembered with new cues and triggers never before considered. As an unapologetic gazer myself, I found the idea that our histories - whether it is our personal, national, or worlds' -  can't possibly be unbiased or thoroughly remembered both profound and accurate.

Then came the ending.  What I thought was philosophy was actually a semi-detective novel in disguise and its ta-da revelation finale ruined everything.  As The Sense of An Ending won the Man Booker Prize, I have no doubt that many more educated than I can explain how this blind sided and frustrating reveal not only needed to happen but was actually developed and obvious the entire time, only obstructed by Tony's own need for redemption, but I really wish it simply had a different ending.  I honestly would have been more satisfied with his old girlfriend, Veronica, saying, "You really don't get it.  You never have and you never will," one more time (although twice seemed like enough) and it just... ending.  With us not getting it.  I thought that would have been perfectly poetic and fitting with his painstaking defense of the weakness of memory.  But that was not Julian Barnes's sense of an ending.  See? Is it a play on the title after all?

This kind of book leaves me at a loss for rating or recommendation because while I ultimately found it unsatisfying and quite ruined by the ending, the writing was eye candy there were so many lovely quotes to enjoy.  Those discoveries are worth the reading effort, I believe.  Here are some of my favorites:

“How often do we tell our own life story? How often do we adjust, embellish, make sly cuts? And the longer life goes on, the fewer are those around to challenge our account, to remind us that our life is not our life, merely the story we have told about our life. Told to others, but—mainly—to ourselves.” 

“We live in time - it holds us and molds us - but I never felt I understood it very well. And I'm not referring to theories about how it bends and doubles back, or may exist elsewhere in parallel versions. No, I mean ordinary, everyday time, which clocks and watches assure us passes regularly: tick-tock, click-clock. Is there anything more plausible than a second hand? And yet it takes only the smallest pleasure or pain to teach us time's malleability. Some emotions speed it up, others slow it down; occasionally, it seems to go missing - until the eventual point when it really does go missing, never to return.” 

“This was another of our fears: that Life wouldn't turn out to be like Literature.”

“What you end up remembering isn't always the same as what you have witnessed.”

“Also, when you are young, you think you can predict the likely pains and bleaknesses that age might bring. You imagine yourself being lonely, divorced, widowed; children growing away from you, friends dying. You imagine the loss of status, the loss of desire – and desirability. You may go further and consider your own approaching death, which, despite what company you may muster, can only be faced alone. But all this is looking ahead. What you fail to do is look ahead, and then imagine yourself looking back from the future point. Learning the new emotions that time brings. Discovering, for example, that as the witnesses to your life diminish, there is less corroboration, and therefore less certainty, as to what you are or have been. Even if you have assiduously kept records – in words, sound, pictures – you may find that you have attended to the wrong kind of record-keeping. What was the line Adrian used to quote? 'History is that certainty produced at the point where the imperfections of memory meet the inadequacies of documentation.” 

“Does character develop over time? In novels, of course it does: otherwise there wouldn't be much of a story. But in life? I sometimes wonder. Our attitudes and opinions change, we develop new habits and eccentricities; but that's something different, more like decoration. Perhaps character resembles intelligence, except that character peaks a little later: between twenty and thirty, say. And after that, we're just stuck with what we've got. We're on our own. If so, that would explain a lot of lives, wouldn't it? And also - if this isn't too grand a word - our tragedy.” 

“Yes, of course we were pretentious -- what else is youth for?” 

“That's one of the central problems of history, isn't it, sir? The question of subjective versus objective interpretation, the fact that we need to know the history of the historian in order to understand the version that is being put in front of us.” 

“But I’ve been turning over in my mind the question of nostalgia, and whether I suffer from it. I certainly don’t get soggy at the memory of some childhood knickknack; nor do I want to deceive myself sentimentally about something that wasn’t even true at the time—love of the old school, and so on. But if nostalgia means the powerful recollection of strong emotions—and a regret that such feelings are no longer present in our lives—then I plead guilty.”

“What did I know of life, I who had lived so carefully? Who had neither won nor lost, but just let life happen to him? Who had the usual ambitions and settled all too quickly for them not being realised? Who avoided being hurt and called it a capacity for survival? Who paid his bills, stayed on good terms with everyone as far as possible, for whom ecstasy and despair soon became just words once read in novels? One whose self-rebukes never really inflicted pain? Well, there was all this to reflect upon, while I endured a special kind of remorse: a hurt inflicted at long last on one who always thought he knew how to avoid being hurt - and inflicted for precisely that reason.” 

“You can put it another way, of course; you always can.” 

I adore that last one.  Actually, I do want you to read this book and tell me if I'm crazy about the ending.  Because how can those incredible quotes come from a book that I do not love????

Book Review #1 - The Flight of Gemma Hardy

Unlike some fellow anglophile romantics, I never really enjoyed the love story in the novel Jane Eyre.  Oh, I liked Jane well enough.  Her scrappiness, morality and can-do attitude made her an obvious protagonist to root for but Mr. Rochester always seemed kind of unlikable, a tad scary, and, tragic as his situation was, an unlikely love interest for such a young woman (notice I didn't say suitable marriage candidate as men were often quite a bit older than their young brides but I think it was rare that the romance between such couples was spontaneous).  It's probably because I first read Jane Eyre when I was about Jane's age and when she falls in love with Mr. Rochester and I remember thinking, "Ewwww."

Like this modern day re-telling of Jane Eyre (it can hardly be called an original story), I liked Gemma Hardy well enough.  Gemma follows the same trajectory as Jane: being an orphan, living with a cruel and abusive aunt and cousins, surviving at a cold and unloving boarding school and eventually gaining the position as au pair (updated from governess) when she has nowhere else to go.  I think because Margot Livesey followed Charlotte Bronte's story so closely, I had a very hard time putting this story in a more modern setting.  Words like, "minivan" and "radio" jolted me from my comfortable victorian imagery and tried to place my thoughts into the author's 20th century.  Sometimes it worked but the farm setting, cold attic bedrooms and stern matrons combined with my memories of a classic made it hard to stay in the 1960s.

As much as the author borrowed from the original, she didn't choose to copy the best part: the mad wife  blocking the heroine's path to long-denied happiness as well as the strict moral code that keeps the heroine on her straight path when the temptation to veer of course seems most fair.  In my opinion, Gemma's story is weakened when her guiding light becomes her - her lineage, her opportunity for education, her narrow view of truth - rather than a belief in right and wrong. The redemption she finds is ultimately less satisfying because I never felt like she sacrificed for her prizes.  Suffered, yes.  But there is a different lesson between snatching happiness when available and deserved and trusting it will come from a loving God.  Some would consider that difference archaic and naive, but I noted and missed its absence.

Still, the story is interesting and I enjoyed reading it.  Gemma is a fantastic character and the setting in northern Scotland and Iceland, including the unusual names and inclusion of these remote countries' histories, was well done.  The secondary characters faltered, as did the inclusion of more modern issues,  but I kept turning pages to discover the outcomes.  Overall, a decent homage to a better book.

Book Review #46 - The Language of Flowers

I realize no book can do all things but I also think a book can do more than one thing. The Language of Flowers is a beautiful book. With its imagery and description of beautiful flowers, not to mention the inclusion of every noted flower's victorian definition, it's easy to believe in the power of roses,jonquils and even thistles. It's easy to enjoy this story about a broken, abandoned girl who communicates with flowers and begins to discover her own worth and strength by using her talents to help others. Most of me wanted to believe in all of the blossoming magic.

But, I didn't. Maybe that's unfair.

Victoria is a victim of abandonment, never knowing who her biological parents were or why they left her to the care of the government but her journey through foster families reveals the sometime ugly realities of the system. At times starved, emotionally manipulated, and continually rejected by family after family, Victoria seems a textbook case of someone suffering from attachment disorder. When she is finally placed in the care of a loving woman who wants her and suffers through all of Victoria's attempts of sabotage, her future seems to finally have the possibility of a happy ending. From the very beginning of the story, however, we know something didn't work out. The novel uncovers the unhappy story, chapter by chapter, weaving between her newly independent adult life and the flashbacks through her childhood, mostly during her time with a woman named Elizabeth who teaches her about flowers and wine grapes and life.

There is enough realism in the narration that the unrealistic parts of the book distracted me. Who are these secondary characters in Victoria's life that seem too good to be true? Is it possible that someone with as severe emotional problems as Victoria can really function at a job? Or have a relationship with a man? I'm not implying that the author made it easy for Victoria. On the contrary, the author repeatedly highlighted Victoria's difficulty in each of these life developments. Some of the details her moments of despair made my stomach church with sympathy and pain. What was missing was the difficulty of the other characters. Weren't they outraged by her behavior? Weren't they turned off by her appearance, her deception, her almost feral behavior around food? I want to believe that there are people who are blessed with patience in abundance and who are ambassadors to help rehabilitate these poor, love-starved souls and I do believe that they exist. I just want to know about them too. I was disappointed by getting a little bit of Elizabeth's story and motives but never really getting to know her. I never understood her connection to Victoria, a connection that was vital to believing the story.

Ultimately, I think the author became a bit too focused on sharing the language of flowers and left out some critical development to the more interesting human story. I just wanted...more.

Book Review #45 - The Time Keeper

I struggle with the kinds of books whose objective is to moralize a topic or instruct. Non-fiction sorts such as Self-help, parenting, dieting and how-tos are the obvious sources of trouble but Mitch Albom's type of fiction fits in this category too. This type of book, which promises a better life for me if I only read and agree, always seem more attractive until I am sitting down with the book open in my hands and then I am either bored or bothered.

I have thought a lot about it and have concluded that the reason for my prejudice is I don't want a book to think for me (how's that for circular logic?) I think my favorite hobby, even more beloved than reading, is thinking. I love to think. I am perfectly happy to sit in a quiet car or room and ponder. I think that's why I love fiction and literature so much is because while the author may be moralizing or instructing, I have to do my part...thinking...in order to figure it out.

Mitch Albom doesn't seem to trust me enough to let me do that. I haven't read much of his work but after finishing The Time Keeper, I felt cajoled into thinking what HE wanted me to think. Time is precious! Moments matter! Um...yeah. I sort of already thought that.

But, then I got kind of confused. Because he used a fable to make his point, I got lost at times in which was more important. Was it better to not pay attention to time? Or did paying attention to time make life more precious because time is finite? I may be thinking too hard about it.

Then, when all the preaching was said and done, I disagrees with him. I do not believe man is the inventor of keeping time. My own beliefs state that God separated the light from the darkness and called His work a day. I also disagree with the idea that that man must die in order to enjoy memories or moments as if the finite quality of earth time is a superior experience over eternity. That just does not make sense.

I'm probably over thinking it all. See, if you give it all away, then someone like me will try to ruin things by adding to or digging deeper to the already generously donated thoughts.

A nice idea of a book though.