Let the Great World Spin

Let the Great World Spin, by Colum McCann

A few years ago my husband and I watched "Man on Wire," the documentary film about Philippe Petit, the man who walked between the World Trade Center towers in 1974. I kept remembering that movie as I read Let the Great World Spin, as that breath-taking feat is the centerpiece of this novel. This was my take on the film:

It was a fascinating story of how they engineered this legal and amazingly daring feat, but in the end I was gravely disappointed in Petit's personal character. At times I felt it moved too slowly and jumped back and forth...and I wanted to cheer for Petit but was disappointed in the way the experience changed him.

This is not the type of novel I'm typically drawn to, because I tend not to prefer short stories. But one of the benefits of being in a book group is being exposed to the types of books one wouldn't normally read. Well written, with a wonderful sense of setting, Let the Great World Spin tells the stories of a variety of different characters, many of whom encounter each other at some point in the day or in their lives.

But one of my major gripes with novels is when each chapter starts from the different perspective of a different character (can you say Game of Thrones?). And as soon as I grew to love a particular character or story (like the Irish priest John Corrigan and his brother Ciaran--the most interesting story), that story ends and we move onto someone else. So I found it a bit hard to sink into this novel, with all that moving around.

On the other hand, the novel tells the story of New York City in so many different slices...of the priest Corrigan who works amongst the prostitutes and dealers in the Bronx ghetto and loves a Latina single mom...of the prostitutes themselves, whose children become prostitutes...a Park Avenue mom befriending a black mother, both grieving their sons who died in Vietnam...a drug-addicted artist who finds herself involved in a hit and run...and a prostitute's daughter who was raised in love and stability, who returns to New York full circle...beautiful individual stories woven together...

A few of the stories didn't work for me...the hackers in California who call pay phones in New York to quiz passersby about what's going on between the towers, and the young graffiti artist who is also a photographer. I found these stories to be the least interesting and engaging.

I'm glad I read this novel, though...it was especially poignant to read this book during September, as we all remember the World Trade Center and 9/11.

That Day in September: 9/11 up close and personal

That Day in September, by Artie Van Why
My rating: 3.5 of 5 stars

Artie Van Why worked right across from the twin towers on that fateful day in 2001. This book is his personal account of September 11 and its aftermath on his life.

Written in a very simple style and self published, the book describes Artie's life in New York (how he ended up there and got discouraged while pursuing his dream to be an actor). He worked in a law firm's word processing center across from the World Trade Center, and on the morning of 9/11 he heard a horrifically loud boom above him. When he and his coworkers rushed out into the street, they saw people falling through the skies.

Van Why's personal account of his love for the World Trade Center and its surrounds, and the description of how the events of 9/11 affected his psyche, is touching and very personal. He speaks about going to an AA meeting at noon on that day and feeling so comforted and at home with others who had experienced similar trauma.

September 11 served as a wake-up call for Van Why. He realized that life is too short to work in an unrewarding job, coasting through life. He writes of how he tenses each time he hears an airplane overhead...or a siren.

I always think of 9/11 when I'm at the airport, particularly when I'm being dropped off by my family for a business trip. I was on my way out of town that morning and first learned about 9/11 in the airport lounge, as everyone was glued to the television overhead. Now when I fly away from my family, I always think of those people on United Flight 93, whose goodbyes to their loved ones were their last ones forever.

Artie Van Why now lives in Lancaster, Pennsylvania, and works at a small theater. He moved to be closer to his parents. Take a look at this BBC News article to read an excerpt of the book--and view a slide show with Artie's memories. He found that writing about his experiences--and speaking about them live in a play--helped him process his profound, painful feelings and memories.

*Disclosure: I received a copy of this book to facilitate my review.

The Garden of Last Days: Sad, dark, depressing book

The Garden of Last Days: A Novel by Andre Dubus III

My rating: 2 of 5 stars

I am so glad to be done with this book. Sadly, it was the second dark, depressing book I've read in a row. Now I will be taking a break by catching up on my magazines (More, Time, and Entertainment Weekly)!

Technically, the writing was fine, but it's not a style I particularly enjoy--each chapter's perspective jumped from character to character, and it also went back in time. Dubus included way too many characters, and they are entirely unlikeable but I believe are meant to be somewhat sympathetic:

--April, A stripper/single mom who takes her 3-year-old daughter to work one night because her child care falls through

--Jean, the older woman who takes care of 3-year-old Franny when her mom is at work

--Various unsavory characters from the strip club, including a bouncer who takes a shine to April

--A 9/11 terrorist, who spends hundreds of dollars on private dances at the strip club, alternating between fundamentalist Islamic hatred and sleaziness and sex obsessions (I found his chapters to be the least compelling and most disturbing)

--AJ, a drunk, dishonest wife beater who thinks he's helping by taking said 3-year-old away from the strip club

--AJ's estranged wife, an unhappy woman with a weight problem who feels ambivalent about her husband

--AJ's mother, another unhappy woman, who had AJ as a result of a rape

--3-year-old Franny herself, who is terrified when she can't find her mother

Those characters alone should indicate why I didn't enjoy this book. Why did I keep reading, you ask? Good question!

The reviewers really liked this book. (What do reviewers know?) Before I read it, I thought it was interesting that clean-cut married man and father-of-3 Dubus went undercover at these sleazy Florida strip clubs to research this book (with the permission of his wife). He did an excellent job of setting the story in Florida, in all its hot and seedy glory. Apparently the story is based on the reality of the 9/11 terrorists' last few days in Florida, spending money drinking and carousing at strip clubs.

He colorfully depicts the violence and hatred toward women inherent in the sex and exotic dancing trades, and what is especially interesting in the end is that the women end up in better situations than the men do...in spite of their difficult circumstances.

After reading this book and Strange Piece of Paradise before that, I need to read some more upbeat books to brighten my outlook on the human race.

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Queen of Dreams: Mothers, daughters, and dreams

Queen of Dreams by Chitra Banerjee Divakaruni

My rating: 3 of 5 stars

It's been years since I read a book by Divakaruni, but if I recall correctly, I loved Mistress of Spices and Sister of My Heart.

Divakaruni is a masterful writer, but for some reason this book did not touch me like her other books. I had a difficult time sympathizing with the main character. This might have been intentional and is the natural result when someone grows up feeling that she is lacking love and commitment from her mother. I found myself drawn more to the present story than the dream journals...but even then, my mind wandered at times. I suspect it would appeal more to people who are highly interested in dreams.

She writes about what it felt like to be a person of color after 9/11...Indians and Pakistanis were thrown together in the same racist mishmash as people of Middle Eastern ancestry. One disturbing scene paints a very upsetting picture of American racism and "patriotism" after 9/11.

Divakaruni unwraps layer after layer of her mother's mystery and also her main character's story, but it was not completely satisfying for me in the end.

Still, a good read and worth a look.



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The Voice That Calls You Home: Inspiration for Life's Journeys

The Voice That Calls You Home: Inspiration for Life's Journeys by Andrea Raynor


My rating: 5 of 5 stars

I got the opportunity to read this book before it is officially published, because the author's publicist sent me an advance review copy. Raynor has worked as a chaplain, both in hospice care and caring for people during the 9/11 recovery efforts, and she is a cancer survivor. Knowing these facts, I was intrigued. What I didn't expect, however, was how much this book would deeply move me.

In recent years, I rarely keep books that I've read unless I think I will read them again someday. Even then, I try to keep books moving along--I will post them to Paperbackswap.com or give them away instead of keeping them on our many bookshelves--but this one is a keeper and a loaner. I can already think of a long list of people who would appreciate this book.

I found myself needing to pause occasionally at the end of the chapter, because not only did the book make me cry several times (and I admit, I'm very emotional since becoming a mother, especially after surviving the NICU for 4 months), but I also needed to absorb the power of the message.

Much to Mike's disgust, I'm sure, I've dog-eared this book several times to mark the passages that touched me most. I'm not sure whether I can get him to read it now, since he will be so disturbed by the dog ears!

Raynor opens her book with the story of a Buddhist tale about a woman named Kisagotami who is grieving the loss of her baby. She goes to the Buddha, begging him to bring her son back to life. The wise Buddha tells her that he will do what she asks, if she will do one thing. She must return to her village and get a single mustard seed from one household that has not known death. Kisagotami returns to the Buddha without a mustard seed, but she has experienced healing because she heard the stories of her community and realized she was not alone.

After becoming an advocate of family-centered health care and coming to know so many people who have grieved their children's deaths, two incidents in the book highlighted the need for continuing work and education in this area. Raynor describes the death of an older Italian man, and the nurse who told her that she was going to ask the family to leave so she could prepare the body. Raynor suggested to the nurse that they ask the man's wife to stay (something she herself would never have asked for because of her limited English and respect for medical authority). The nurse assented, and she and Raynor watched as the wife cleaned her husband's body so tenderly and lovingly that they both felt blessed by the experience. But it never would have occurred to the nurse to ask the wife to participate. It reminds me of the time that an NICU nurse proudly informed me, when we arrived in the unit, that she had given tiny baby Christopher his first bath, even though she knew we would be arriving soon...and forever eliminating our opportunity to experience that first milestone. (And consequently she will forever remain in my mind as "that nurse.")

Another moment desperately needing family- and patient-centered care was when Raynor went in for her second lumpectomy and was treated like she didn't even exist, by the technician, nurse, anesthesiologist, and surgeon. When she woke up from surgery, the nurse was plying her with coffee so she'd be able to get up and leave. When Raynor found out that she would have to have a mastectomy, she wisely sought a new surgeon and a new hospital, one that would care for her spirit as well as her body.

Raynor's memoir is unusual in the sense that she was raised in a warm, loving family environment, by wise, spiritual parents. She appears to be the kind of person who has always had a transcendental connection with spirits and death. Her parents used to have seances when she was young, and her Methodist father had a unique ability to connect with spirits. Her father's mother died when he was young, and Raynor's daughter was born on the anniversary of her grandmother's death, transforming that day for her father into a happy, doubly meaningful one.

In the dark weeks and months after 9/11, Raynor volunteered at Ground Zero, going down to New York at night time, after spending all day doing hospice work and caring for her own family. When bodies or fragments of bodies were recovered, she would say prayers over them in the morgue. She ministered to the police officers, fire fighters, and other workers, and she tried to find meaning, somehow, in the wasteland.

She writes openly and honestly about her own battle with breast cancer, and the circle of friends and family who lifted her up during her darkest days. She writes about well-meaning friends who tell her "at least you're here" or "at least you've got your health" without understanding how discounting that is. (I can remember similar feelings when Chris was in the NICU, or when I had miscarriages.) I loved the story of her "buzz party" surrounded by women friends, and how her son asked her whether she'd rather die of cancer or be bald for a little while so she could stay with him.

Raynor writes beautifully of her experiences seeing people through to the other side. Although she witnesses and supports the deepest kind of pain and grief imaginable, she tries to find meaning and mystery in this sadness and suffering. She does not offer easy answers or platitudes, but suggests that the best we can do is to keep calling out for help, and "keep believing that there is One who hears, and to be open to the ways in which God comes to us. As the German theologian Dorothee Solle wrote: 'God has no other hands than ours.'" What I valued most about this book were the underlying themes of being God for one another and helping each other through the scariest moments of life.

The ultimate message of Raynor's book is that we can be each other's angels on earth. The most important thing we can do for someone who is suffering is to be present, to listen, and to be present again. We cannot take away another person's pain and we should not even try, but we can be present. We can be ministers to each other, and be the voice that calls each other home.

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