Glow

Glow, by Jessica Maria Tuccelli

This is a tough book to review. I found the writing to be absolutely exquisite. At first, I thought this would be a four- or five-star book for sure. The story starts with Ella McGee, daughter of NAACP activist Amelia McGee, who is put on a bus down south to Georgia in 1941. Unfortunately, the bus breaks down and she is left stranded--and soon beat up by two strangers--on the side of the road. She's rescued by former slave Willie Mae Cotton and her partner, Mary-Mary Freeborn. Starts on an intriguing note, right?

Ella is part Cherokee and part African-American. The book description promises that it traverses Ella's family history. It does indeed do that, in the form of beautiful individual stories of various people closely or distantly related to her or Willie Mae. Tuccelli deftly tells each story in a distinctly different voice based on her character. The descriptions and language were colorful and vivid.
Mother love is a strong theme throughout the book.

Where the book fell short for me, though, was that it never adequately circled back to Amelia and Ella. Rather it was almost a book of interwoven short stories...and I'm no fan of short stories in general.

I loved so much about this book, but I wanted more out of it, and it fell short of what I was expecting it to be.

The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks

The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks, by Rebecca Skloot

Author Rebecca Skloot, daughter of acclaimed Portland writer Floyd Skloot, takes us on a journey back into the 1950s, when an African-American woman named Henrietta Lacks contracted aggressive, advanced cervical cancer. Her cells, taken without her permission,
became the first immortal human cells grown in culture. They are still alive today and have multiplied billions of times. All of her cells multiplied today would weigh more than 50 million metric tons. Her cells were instrumental in critical research for polio, cancer, and viruses and contributed to major medical advances.

But before Rebecca Skloot published her book, Henrietta Lacks was virtually unknown...even by all of the scientists, doctors, and researchers whose work benefited from her contributions to the field.

Skloot tells the story of how Lacks was treated in the “colored” ward of Johns Hopkins Hospital. She excavates her family history and gradually develops trusting relationships with Lacks' children and other family members, many of whom are too poor to afford steady health insurance.

This is the story of Skloot's journey into this story, Henrietta's history, her family, and medical research and ethics over the decades. It's history, race relations, science, and personal journey rolled into one book. What's particularly amazing about this book is not only its insight into this fascinating story--and how a poor black woman was taken advantage of--but the fact that it was written by a young white woman who grew up in Portland, Oregon, a long way from Baltimore or Clover, Virginia. It took her a long time to get the Lacks family to trust her, but she did it. Now she has established a foundation with educational and medical scholarships for Henrietta's descendants, so they can finally get some financial benefit out of her legacy.      

The Mama Boy's Myth

The Mama's Boy Myth: Why Keeping Our Sons Close Makes Them Stronger, by Kate Stone Lombardi

This is SUCH an important and desperately needed book.

New York Times contributor Kate Stone Lombardi makes the fascinating point that of all the possible parent-child relationships (e.g., father-son, father-daughter, mother-daughter), the most circumspect and maligned is that of the mother and son. This was an illuminating beginning to this book.

Close mother-son relationships are abundant, but they are kept in the closet. While fathers are lauded for teaching their daughters traditionally masculine tasks or skills, mothers are shamed for doing the same thing (for example, teaching a son to knit or just talk more openly about his feelings).

Lombardi interviewed over 1,000 moms online and in person. She found that nearly nine in ten moms described themselves as "extremely close" or "very close" to their sons. And the result of these close relationships is that we are creating a generation of boys who will become strong, loving spouses and partners, with a higher level of sensitivity and emotional intelligence. As Lombardi notes, "A new and growing body of scientific literature shows that sons who are close to their mothers are emotionally and physically healthier than those who are not."

She writes of stereotypes about boys and girls and how some mothers long for daughters so they can develop close relationships with them. In some cases (like mine), feminists look forward to raising strong women who have opportunities they or their mothers did not have. As one mom said, "When it came time to have children, what I had in mind were daughters. All of my feminist friends laughed, 'Look at the hand you were dealt.' I had to process that loss. I had daughter envy." Why do women assume that girls will be more emotionally available than boys?  We make assumptions that boys will grow apart from their mothers, based on culturally acceptable mother-son norms.

Mothers battle not only cultural expectations of how they relate to their sons, but also sometimes their own husbands or family members. Some women shared examples of their husbands accusing them of babying their sons if they showed any affection, even at very young ages, and one woman told a story about a power struggle with her husband about her nearly-two-year-old son's curly hair. She told him she'd cut his curls when he turned two, but a month before he turned two, her husband cut off all the boy's curls while he was taking a bath. "He thought I was turning his boy into a girl." Mothers are criticized for hugging their teen sons or touching them at all. Then there's the nosy strangers who think they know best and think that mothers are scarring their boys for life if they allow them to wear a "girl's" Halloween costume. She cites the work of artist JeongMee Yoon, who has a project with side-by-side images of actual girls' and boys' rooms, entirely in pink and blue. It's incredibly sad (and also another good example of why it's good I have boys--I am no fan of pink!).

Lombardi delves into the origin of Freud's Oedipal theories and the hidden fears of homophobia inherent in this bullying of moms and sons. Mothers involved in their sons' lives are made into the villains in popular culture, at best (think "Psycho"!), and at worst are thought to create "sissys," "Mama's boys," or overly dependent and feminine. She talks about the "boy crisis" and some prominent authors' views that boys need to disconnect from their mothers and instead form stronger relationships with their fathers, instead of recognizing the need for both father and mother bonds. Well-known author Michael Gurian "argues that mothers' apron strings are strangling the manhood out of boys." It's all the mother's fault, of course!

In a fairly well-known parenting book, Get Out of My Life, but Please Could You Drive Me and Cheryl to the Mall? by Anthony E. Wolf, the author talks about the "problem of mommy," which he defines as the theory that adolescent boys' strong feelings for their mother might be "tinged with sexuality and might therefore become really unacceptable." Why is that mothers' close relationships with their sons are often described as sexual? Thank you, Mr. Freud!

Since when do people say that teen girls have crushes on their fathers if they feel close to them? Lombardi points out that we never see "mother-son dances," but only "father-daughter" ones...because no one ascribes anything sinister to that relationship. However, as a brochure for a North Carolina father-daughter dance said, "Every father needs to 'date' their daughter, and every daughter needs an example of how a young lady is to be treated by a man." This dating analogy is creepy because sexual abuse in families is much more likely to occur between a father and a daughter. Incest between mother and son is exceedingly rare (female perpetrators are between 1 and 4 percent of all sex abuse cases). So why is that relationship such taboo?

When boys reach a certain age, they are often embarassed to be seen alone in public with their mom or to talk about close relationships with their mothers. It's really only the big, tough football players or otherwise macho men who are allowed to get away with close relationships with their mothers.

Then there are the men and women who play into the idea that feminism or stronger women's roles are creating weak men. Lombardi mentions the book Manning Up: How the Rise of Women Has Turned Men Into Boys. Although author Kay Hymowitz notes that it's important for young men to have strong relationships with both their moms and dads, the title makes it sound like weak men are all the women's fault. Lombardi notes that she agrees that this can be a confusing time to be a young man, but "mothers play an important role in helping their sons through this transition by giving them the skills they need to help them mature and succeed in school and in the workplace." As she concludes, "Why on earth would (women) want to do anything to harm men? We are the mothers of sons."

Gradually, our culture will find mother-son relationships more acceptable. The younger generation will see that this changes. In 2011, many of the Academy award nominated films featured difficult mothers (The Fighter, Black Swan, and The King's Speech). In the acceptance speeches, however, many of the winners thanked and paid tribute to their moms. Tom Hooper, who won best director for "The King's Speech," thanked his mother for giving him the idea for the movie. "The moral of the story is," he said, "Listen to your mother."

I confess that I always imagined having a daughter, but I am so thankful to have sons. Although many women idealize mother-daughter relationships, I've observed that in many cases, these relationships can be strained or not meet expectations. Daughters can be very hard on their mothers.

This book affirms that I can have truly deep relationships with my sons, and they will be better prepared for adulthood because of our strong mother-son relationships. It also made me feel incredibly grateful to be a parenting partner with a man who affirms my close relationships with my sons and (1) is not afraid to share his sensitive, emotional side, and is just as likely as I am to be brought to tears during a touching moment, and (2) never tells me I need to toughen the boys up or worries about them not acting manly enough! It also made me feel thankful for all the wonderful men I know, including my dad, brother, brother-in-law, and many male friends, who build strong relationships with boys and support women in doing the same.

I strongly recommend this book for anyone who has a son or works with boys.

The Book Thief

The Book Thief, by Markus Zusak

I read this for our May book group selection, and I loved it. I have been aware of this book for many years, and in fact we gave it to our friends' teenage daughter one Christmas. But it wasn't until one of our book group members highly recommended it AND both my sister and my husband read it for their book groups and also loved it, that I finally dug in.

It's the story of Liesel, a German girl living in a small town near Munich during World War II. It's about the Holocaust, of course, but more than anything it's about Liesel and her relationships with others, including a Jewish man who hides in her basement, her foster parents, and her best friend Rudy. This book is unique because it's not directly about the Jewish experience but rather about the Germans. It gives one a different perspective of a German child's experience of the war.

Liesel finds a way to transcend her difficult circumstances (she loses her family of origin) by finding herself in words, through the books she begins stealing. She doesn't steal very many books, but just enough to make her life more interesting.

I loved the way Liesel's foster father teaches her how to read (in the middle of the night), the rough way her foster mother calls everyone a "saumensch" and a "saukerl," the unrequited young love between Liesel and Rudy, the beautiful books Max creates for Liesel and her unconventional friendship with him, the stolen trips to the library of the mayor's wife, and the beautiful way words and music are woven through the book. In the midst of a society full of distrust for books and words, Liesel reads aloud from her books to all of the people gathered in the bomb shelters. My book group friends all liked the narrator being death, and especially found the last page to be beautiful.

This book is undeniably sad, but well written and beautiful at the same time.

Nightwoods

Nightwoods, by Charles Frazier

I picked this one up because I loved Cold Mountain, Frazier's first novel, which takes place during the Civil War. Nightwoods, which takes place in 1960s Appalachia, paled in comparison. Luce is the caretaker of an old, decrepit resort lodge, and after her sister is brutally killed by her evil husband, Bud, she finds herself to be the guardian of her sister's mute, damaged children. Bud gets away with the crime and comes after the children, convinced that they have his money.

We know from Cold Mountain that Frazier has a gift for writing, but Nightwoods suffers from too much description of place and weak description of characters and story. The plot plods along until the end, when it finally explodes in a few pages. As a writer/editor, I didn't particularly care for the incomplete sentences and odd lack of quotation marks (Frazier's style).

I didn't feel much sympathy for any of the characters, even the main character, Luce. I appreciated the fact that she took her sister's children in and tried to become the surrogate mother than she never had herself...but beyond that she was a bit hollow. What had she been doing all those years since high school? How old was she? What did she look like? We just didn't get a real sense of her. That goes for the other characters too...what made them into who they were?

This book is a coldhearted reminder of how children can be so easily damaged by neglect, cruelty, and violence. It's a brutal story, but without a whole lot of redemption in it.

What joy to give away free books!

This is a cross-post from Every Day Is a Miracle. Last Monday (a week ago) Mike and I participated in World Book Night 2012.

World Book Night began in the UK in 2011 and spread to the U.S. this year. It's an annual celebration of reading and books. Authors, publishers, distributors, independent booksellers, UPS, printers, and binders collaborate to print and distribute the books, for free, to reluctant readers across the country. This year 25,000 givers distributed 20 copies of a book out of a selection of 30 books (some pictured at left). (We got to make three choices, and if we were lucky, we received one of the books we requested.)

I gave away a book by one of my favorite authors, Barbara Kingsolver's The Poisonwood Bible. I went to pick up my stack of books at our wonderful local bookstore, Annie Bloom's, where they had a World Book Night Giver Reception complete with sharing of stories, cupcakes, champagne, and door prizes. It was fun, and I met one of my coworkers there. (Kieran was very happy to get my cupcake, while I enjoyed the champagne.) I also picked up an extra (unassigned) box for Mike to distribute: The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao. (He also helped another friend, laid up, who had signed up to give away The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian by Sherman Alexie, by arranging a giveaway at Chris' high school.) 

We decided to distribute the books after school at Kieran's elementary school, along with another parent, Leigh, who was also participating (she was distributing Bel Canto by Ann Patchett, which I recently read for my book group).

Everyone who received a book was very appreciative and grateful. I'm afraid that we were not as successful as we'd hoped at reaching "reluctant" or "light" readers. A couple of self-admitted reluctant readers studied our selection and ended up leaving empty handed, saying that they already had enough books to read. I'm wondering if that was partly because all of our books were serious fiction and perhaps too literary for "light" readers. Now that I look at some of the other possibilities, I realize that our selections probably reflect our high-falutin' fiction preferences--perhaps not as appealing to those light readers. (We chose books that we'd read and loved.) If we'd been distributing The Hunger Games, perhaps even light readers would have been interested. (The Hunger Games was one of the choices, but of course it was the most popular!)

World Book Night is celebrated on April 23 because it's the UNESCO International Day of the Book, chosen in honor of Shakespeare and Cervantes, who both died on April 23, 1616. (It is also the anniversary of Shakespeare's birthday.) In the Catalan region of Spain, the day is celebrated by giving a book and a flower to a loved one.

We had lovely sunny weather for our book giveaway--all of the pale Portlanders were wearing summer clothing!

If you'd like to be a World Book Night giver in 2013, sign up here to stay apprised.

Behind the Beautiful Forevers

Behind the Beautiful Forevers: Life, Death, and Hope in a Mumbai Undercity, by Katherine Boo

This is an astonishing, ground-breaking book. Katherine Boo, an award-winning American writer/reporter who has earned accolades for reporting on the poor, married an Indian man, Sunil Khilnani. They spend half of their time in the U.S. and half in India.

Over three years, she spent countless hours shadowing the residents of Annawadi, a slum near the Mumbai airport filled with people without permanent work...each one of them struggling to make a living, mostly through garbage picking and recycling, temporary jobs, and theft. With the help of translators, she gradually got to know Annawadi's residents, and they finally got used to having the strange white woman around.

As she grew to learn their stories, a few stood out. Central to the book is the story of Abdul, a young Muslim who buys and recycles the garbage that others collect, whose family is accused of a crime by their angry neighbor. Manju hopes to become Annawadi's first college grad, but she's disturbed by her mother's constant conniving and corruption (which actually assist in paying her college bills). Kalu, a young thief, entertains the other boys by acting out scenes from Bollywood movies. A young woman commits suicide with poison to avoid the arranged marriage her family has made for her. As a Dalit, she knows that her life in a small village away from relatively progressive Mumbai will be miserable.

From Boo's web site

What struck me most about this book, more than the extreme poverty, lack of sanitation, and struggling for subsistence on the edge of the sewage lake, was the horrible corruption rife in Indian politics, law enforcement, business, and civil service. This, even more than the poverty, oppresses the disadvantaged and prevents them from advancing out of the slums. It made me think of the anti-corruption policies my company has in writing, and ponder how it does business in India or the Middle East without resorting to bribes. According to this book, when you give money to charities such as World Vision or Christian orphanages, you're lucky if the donation actually reaches the needy. Schools employ teachers without college educations (or even high school degrees), and the only way to get a government teaching job is to pay huge bribes. Boo writes about a nun who runs an orphanage and resells many of the clothes, food, and toys she receives for the children.

When Abdul and his father and sister are accused of inciting a spiteful neighbor woman to set herself aflame, everyone crowds in to make some money. They are tortured in jail and told, by many, that if they pay money, the problem will go away. Abdul's mother even goes directly to the other family to negotiate, but they believe they'll be able to extort more money through the courts.

From Boo's web site

This book is written like a novel even though it's hard-core, investigative reporting. Boo and her translators are completely invisible narrators. She took meticulous notes and recordings and documented her research thoroughly--important in the age of Greg Mortensons and the accusations thrown around about the "white savior complex." Boo's purpose was to shine the light on the Annawadians themselves and their environment instead of the white writer. Boo was threatened by the police and often felt insecure or threatened as she did her research. This book does not make the Indian government smell good.

And beyond that is an examination of the modernization and regentrification of India. Annawadi is located within sight of the huge, fancy Mumbai airport hotels, behind walls plastered with ads for ceramic tile that say "Beautiful Forever." As young Mirchi (Abdul's younger brother) is quoted in this review from The Times of India, "Everything around us is roses, and we are the shit between." Hovering over Annawadi and its residents is the constant fear that the slum--and their homes--will be leveled and destroyed.

This book has made me look at India and my own existence in a new way. It begs the question of what can be done to eradicate such corruption and extreme poverty in the world. It also makes one think about the price of affluence. When the economy began suffering, the Annawadians suffered as well. Yet on the other hand, what is the price of progress as the gap between rich and poor grows and grows?

For more information about Katherine Boo and this book, I encourage you to visit her web site, listen to this interview on NPR, or watch this video. This book and its stories of these desperately hard-working people will stick with me for a very long time.

Shine

Shine, by Lauren Myracle

Such a beautiful cover, and such a furore over this book. If you haven't heard, Shine was announced as a finalist for the National Book Awards ...but oops...the National Book Foundation staff misheard the name of the nominee. It was actually meant to be Chime by Franny Billingsley. The judges didn't catch the mistake until they heard the nominees being announced over the radio! Sorry, Ms. Myracle. Hope you'll forgive us! Oh my...what a debacle. Lauren Myracle handled the situation with professionalism and grace. Mike went out to purchase this book in support.

Because of that silly fuss and bother and also what I had read about the story, I was looking forward to diving into this book. It opens with a newspaper article: Patrick, former best friend of protagonist Cat Robinson, is in a coma after being attacked with a baseball bat and left for dead with a gas nozzle taped to his mouth. Cat, who had become an extreme introvert after a traumatic incident and shut all her friends out of her life, decides to find out who is responsible.

The book starts out reasonably enough...Myracle paints the deep poverty, ignorance, and malaise in a North Carolina backwoods town with vivid imagery and words. Soon Cat discovers secrets in her midst, such as heavy meth use all around her. Partly because of her own severe guilt for abandoning Patrick as a friend three years before, she wrecklessly dives into probing conversations with people in the town because law enforcement is inept and doesn't appear to be investigating the crime.

Unfortunately, the follow-through of the story could have been better. Many of the characters are one-dimensional stereotypes, and I found it difficult to imagine so many people looking the other way during Cat's own traumatic incident (notably her aunt and brother). I also found it implausible that Cat wouldn't have more knowledge of the drug use in her midst. And the police officers made absolutely no attempt to investigate the crime? None at all? Was that supposed to be because Patrick was gay?

And although Cat does experience a traumatic and horrific incident as a 13-year-old, it seemed strange to me that she would completely cut off contact from her friends and family, especially Patrick. I also found it implausible that suddenly Tommy turns over a new leaf and tries to make amends.

The story with Jason seemed thrown in there for a romance element, and it didn't quite fit. Also, for him to call Cat such a horrific name in the beginning...and then for him to turn out to be a good guy...didn't seem real.

The mystery doesn't turn out to be much of a mystery, either--the reader is able to see the resolution from a mile off. I didn't like the way the story resolves...and it didn't make much sense to me that Patrick's lover would attack him in such a way, even strung out on meth. But hey, I've never used meth so what do I know what it causes you to do?

Finally, once several people know who attacked Patrick, Cat and others (including Patrick, who wakes up in the end) conspire to keep it a secret from the authorities. And for what reason, exactly? That doesn't make any sense to me. (Would Robert really be able to keep such a secret, after he can't keep anything else secret??)

Of course, Patrick wakes up in the end and he's completely coherent and Cat explains everything that's happened in 1 minute before the nurses come rushing in. Everything's tied up in neat little packages. Because of Cat's decision not to share who was responsible, the town can continue to wallow in its insular bigotry, blaming the crime on out-of-towners and conveniently ignoring the rampant drug use among the town's young people.

Another concern I have is the major typos I found sprinkled throughout the novel...tales vs. tails, here vs. her, and a name incorrectly used a couple of times (Lawson vs. Larson). Sloppy!

I'm sure that Myracle intended one of the book's messages to be the importance of shining your light and doing the right thing in spite of your fears...but what kind of message does it send to young people when over and over again, people who hurt others are allowed to get away with it without exposure and without punishment? For the life of me, I can't ascertain why she decided to tell the story that way. For her aunt and brother to walk in and see her being assaulted, and do NOTHING? That made no sense at all.

Even though the book appeared to tackle the issues of homophobia and religious intolerance, in the end it did not. If anything, it seemed to send the message that this kind of bigotry is okay and to be tolerated in small southern towns. Even Patrick agreed to cover up the crime. Also, it does not accurately portray loving gay relationships. When Patrick wakes up to be told that his lover was dead, wouldn't he have been upset about it? Wouldn't he have been crushed when he realized what his lover had done to him?

The more I think about this novel, the less some of it makes sense to me. It could have been so much more!

The Missing

The Missing, by Jane Casey

I discovered this book by reading a review of one of British author Jane Casey's other novels, The Burning. Because I like to read authors (especially mystery authors) in chronological order, I sought out her first book. It needn't have mattered in this case, as it does not have the same protagonist.

Unfortunately, this book did not live up to my expectations. I found it to be very readable, but much of what happened seemed unrealistic and unlikely to happen. I also guessed who the murderer is long before it was revealed, which I rarely do. (I'm one of those rare mystery readers who does not try to guess the perpetrator, but in this case it could not be ignored.)

As the protagonist, Sarah Finch is not entirely likeable and a bit too overcome with problems. She is a lost soul, lacking anyone she can confide in or trust, and in the end things just spiral downward in her life. Soon she is left with no one. She also makes some bizarre choices, and a few plot elements seem unlikely (such as the policeman on the case falling in love with her, and the highly convenient coincidences that keep occurring, to name a few). Life seems to just happen to her, and because of this she is not very sympathethic. For example, after she truly hates school and appears to have no motivation to succeed because of what happened to her brother, she somehow becomes a teacher herself, and does not seem to enjoy her job.

I also found it unlikely that a character who is completely obsessed with her would attack her and harm her outside of her home. And why on earth did she stick with her mother when she treated her so horribly? Of course, Casey ties it all up with a happy ending, also implausible.

I have The Burning checked out of the library, and I will give Casey one more try...I'm hoping her second novel is an improvement over the first.

Poster Girl

Poster Child, by Emily Rapp

Having suffered from birth defects myself in addition to self-image issues from not feeling beautiful or "normal" while I was growing up, I'm drawn to memoirs by people facing similar challenges. Many years ago I was similarly moved by Lucy Grealy's Autobiography of a Face, about a girl who had to have 1/3 of her jaw removed as a result of childhood cancer.

Emily Rapp was born with a rare genetic bone and tissue disorder that resulted in one of her legs being shorter than the other. Throughout her early childhood, she had surgeries to amputate parts of her left leg and began wearing a series of prosthetic devices. The daughter of a Lutheran minister, she soon became a "poster child" for the March of Dimes, which at that time focused primarily on preventing birth defects instead of prematurity. Perky and smiling on the inside, yet grieving and deeply angry about her lot in life on the outside, she reacted by lashing out at her supportive family and becoming, in her words from an interview, a "spoiled brat."

Stricken with self-doubt and a desire to be beautiful, she devoted herself to becoming perfect in every way. This not only manifested itself as becoming a perfect student, but also becoming anorexic and obsessed with her weight. She also sets out to be an athlete, excelling at skiing and swimming, and becoming a school mascot for various sports teams.

Rapp is brutally honest about her feelings of brokenness and deep, aching loneliness. She befriends the aging, rough-around-the-edges veterans and other amputees she meets at appointments with her prosthetists. When she discovers the liberation theology of disability (pioneered by theologian Nancy Eiesland, who wrote The Disabled God) and the writings of other disabled women, her awareness cracks open. She doesn't really deal with the grief of losing her leg until she's living in Korea (a country that shuns people who are different, especially those with disabilities) and is terrified that her host family and students will discover her secret...and she has a breakdown. Later on, she undertakes a program for the Lutheran World Federation by bringing together disabled women from around the world to share their mutual experiences of disability and faith.

As I mentioned at the beginning of this post, I too had birth defects (my mom had German Measles while she was pregnant). I was born with a cleft lip and palate, as well as a club foot (I had to wear a brace as a baby, but it was corrected). I had numerous surgeries throughout childhood and had to wear an awful, gagging speech appliance in my mouth (an obturator) until I was 15. As an adolescent, I had severely crooked teeth and had to have extensive orthodontia and two corrective jaw surgeries. My nose is not symmetrical (because of my cleft lip). Like Rapp's parents and experience, my parents never treated me as I were anything less than beautiful, but some other kids did. They stared at my scar, and even still, curious children ask me about it. In spite of their support, Rapp hates her body and cannot fathom the thought of ever making herself vulnerable enough to have sex without her prosthetis.

While I was reading this book, I discovered that Rapp went on to get married and have a child of her own. Tragically, her son Rowan has Tay-Sachs Disease and will not live past the age of three. She writes poignantly of being a "dragon mom" in this New York Times article:

"We are dragon parents: fierce and loyal and loving as hell. Our experiences have taught us how to parent for the here and now, for the sake of parenting, for the humanity implicit in the act itself, though this runs counter to traditional wisdom and advice.

NOBODY asks dragon parents for advice; we’re too scary. Our grief is primal and unwieldy and embarrassing. The certainties that most parents face are irrelevant to us, and frankly, kind of silly. Our narratives are grisly, the stakes impossibly high. Conversations about which seizure medication is most effective or how to feed children who have trouble swallowing are tantamount to breathing fire at a dinner party or on the playground. Like Dr. Spock suddenly possessed by Al Gore, we offer inconvenient truths and foretell disaster.

And there’s this: parents who, particularly in this country, are expected to be superhuman, to raise children who outpace all their peers, don’t want to see what we see. The long truth about their children, about themselves: that none of it is forever."

Again, I can relate. Even though my once-fragile baby boy has had a better outcome than Rapp's beautiful and precious baby Rowan will, I share her thoughts about shallow parenting. You know what I'm talking about...those parents who complain about the most ridiculous things or push their children to be outstanding athletes or students. And especially those who brag about their children's brilliance and look down on other children who struggle with academics,sports, or social issues. I have no patience for that...not when parenting for people like Rapp and her husband is boiled down to treating each day as a blessing, knowing that this day might be all they have. I remember trying not to worry as my son did not talk until he was three years old...and as he struggled to become potty trained, write his letters or draw pictures, play sports, make friends. I know too many parents who have lost their children in infancy or early childhood.

"What I can do is protect my son from as much pain as possible, and then finally do the hardest thing of all, a thing most parents will thankfully never have to do: I will love him to the end of his life, and then I will let him go.

But today Ronan is alive and his breath smells like sweet rice. I can see my reflection in his greenish-gold eyes. I am a reflection of him and not the other way around, and this is, I believe, as it should be. This is a love story, and like all great love stories, it is a story of loss. Parenting, I’ve come to understand, is about loving my child today. Now. In fact, for any parent, anywhere, that’s all there is."

I feel blessed to have read this book and become aware of Emily Rapp's beautiful writing.

Friday Night Knitting Club

The Friday Night Knitting Club,
by Kate Jacobs

Meh. I didn't like this book and found it difficult to get through. I read it all, though, because my book group spontaneously chose it for this month's selection. As Jacobs' first novel, The Friday Night Knitting Club is about a yarn shop in New York City, its owner Georgia Walker and her daughter Dakota, Georgia's past friend Cat and ex-lover James, and the shop's various employees and customers. I liked the fact it tackled an interracial romance and the challenges of single motherhood.

But this is what I didn't like:

• Georgia Walker herself. Supposedly, she is a magnetic personality who people want to be with...but I found her to be a bitter complainer about her lot in life.
• Jacobs packed the novel with too many characters, about which we know very little. In particular, Peri, Darwin, KC, and Lucie...I didn't really like any of these characters and I didn't care what happened to any of them.
• In one scene in the book, a crazy young woman bursts into the shop shouting about Julia Roberts. Then she vanishes out of the plot. What purpose did she serve? It was completely nonsensical.
• I would have liked to know more about the most interesting characters--James, Anita, Marty, and Gran--but we got just the briefest of backgrounds.
• I found the plot with Cat to be tiresome and ridiculous. Would a young woman really betray her very best friend like that? And for all the bitterness Georgia carried, why did she never try to contact and confront her?
• Same with Georgia's relationship with James. I found it difficult to comprehend how she could carry around those two letters from James without ever opening them. Stupid. If he really loved her and wanted to be part of their lives, why didn't he try harder to get involved? And when he finally enters the scene, he appears to be perfect.
• And finally, Georgia gets cancer and dies. How predictable is that?

I found the whole book to be annoying. It wasn't horrible, but I will not be reading any more of her books.

Unorthodox

Unorthodox: The Scandalous Rejection of My Hasidic Roots, by Deborah Feldman

Little did I know that I was about to dive into a scandalous book! Feldman must have predicted the type of reaction she would receive when she published her memoir. The Hasidic community has mounted a campaign to discredit her.

Feldman was born into an extremely strict sect of Hasidic Judaism, the Satmar sect, founded on the belief that the Holocaust was God's punishment for the Jews because they had forsaken their strict religious laws. Her father was mentally disabled or retarded (hard to say, because he was never diagnosed for fear of affecting his marriageability), and her mother, who had traveled from England to marry her father sight unseen, escaped the sect when Feldman was a girl. Consequently, Feldman was sent to live with her grandparents, who she is fond of, but she never really felt truly loved and accepted. She constantly chafed against the extremely rigid rules, unfair treatment of women, and rejection of secularism.

Strongly discouraged from reading or speaking English, she delighted in discovering Jane Austen, Louisa May Alcott, and JK Rowling. Hasidic schools for girls emphasize religious instruction over academics, so she felt grossly inadequately educated. When she finally met a teacher who will challenge her (even though she also sounds bordering on verbally abusive!), she was thrilled.

When she was married off at 18 to a man chosen for her by her grandparents, her body completely shut down. After receiving messages all her life that her body was a den of iniquity and temptation to men, she could not have a healthy sexual relationship with her husband. After much therapy (and the entire community knowing intimate details of their sex life), they finally consummated their marriage. When her son Yitzak was born, she knew that she had to get out. She enrolled in a course for adult learners at Sarah Lawrence and her world cracked open.

I really enjoyed this book, and Feldman is an inspiration. I cannot imagine what it would feel like to be trapped in a religion that believes that you are dirty for half of the month...and that you cannot partake in the same religious studies and community as men. (I loved the movie "Yentl" for similar reasons.) Or one in which your worth is determined by the age at which you get married, who you marry, if you secretly attend the mikvah (women do not discuss the mikvah with their husbands), and whether you wear a wig instead of your natural hair.

As I mentioned, the Satmar and other ultra-Orthodox Jewish sects are waging war on this book and Feldman herself (this pro-Orthodox Facebook group has been urging people to write one-star reviews). Just look it up on amazon and you'll see what I mean. What is most fascinating about this campaign are the petty accusations they are leveling at her:

• They claim she didn't accurately describe her mother's life and when she got divorced.
• They point out the existence of Feldman's younger sister and claim the whole book is a lie because she left her out. (Feldman says she chose to leave her out because she is a minor.)
• Clearly without reading the book, they say that she fabricated a story about a woman's murder (??) and that she said her mother abused her. There's nothing like this in the book.
• Feldman attended a strict Satmar school, but they say that she didn't admit it was not her first school. This is not true. She did say that she moved to a new school, but she doesn't say a lot about her former school. How is this important??
• Feldman tells a story about a Hasidic man who cuts off his son's penis after he saw him masturbating. She acknowledges that she doesn't know this for a fact, but it is what she hears (through her husband and his brother). The crime is not reported. This enrages the haters, because they say it's blood libel. Feldman admits that she was reporting the facts third hand. Still, it's concerning...that as well as another rumor she heard about a man who sexually abused minors, and the crime was covered up and not reported to the authorities!
• Some Hasidic women say she doesn't portray the life of Hasids accurately...and "I'm a Chassidic woman who runs her business and employs 30 people" or they say that she is attacking a religion that treats women with respect. Hmm...
• They claim that she has attacked her grandparents and has been ungrateful. (I did not see any of this. She writes fondly of her grandparents.)
• They say that all of her problems were due to growing up in a dysfunctional family.

These are just a few of the examples I've seen as "evidence" that Feldman fabricated the whole book. As Jesse Kornbluth writes in The Huffington Post, the haters are completely missing the point of the book.

What's fascinating to me in all this is that the Satmars only want to engage on the smallest points:, like where Feldman went to school and the technicalities of her mother's divorce, I've received not a word of protest about the conclusion of my review, which was, I thought, the most damning:
The real issue is sex. Not the act, but what it signifies --- male control of women. That old story. We see it in far too many places; dehumanizing women is a key component of fundamentalist cults, from hardcore Muslims to certain Republicans.

Men who oppress women --- they say they love them, but it seems more like they fear and hate them --- haven't been taught that sex is our reward for making it through the day. Like their women, these men have been sold the idea that sex is just for procreation. No wonder they feel like they're the ones who are oppressed.

There are claims in this book that Hasids have disputed. I can't tell what's true. But I'm sure of one thing: Men who can't live equally with women aren't worth living with.
Why didn't the Satmars take me on about the blatant sexism that oppresses both women and men in their community? I can only conclude this: It's a problem for Deborah Feldman --- not for them.

Feldman also spoke of her disenchantment with the Satmars, not just for the way they treat women, but also the way they fight for power. Her grandfather told her that in Europe, no one would have dreamed of fighting to be called a rabbi. (They actually turned down the position because of their humility.) But Feldman's Satmar community was divided in half--each half supported one of the Satmar rebbe's sons for succession. And it was a bitter battle. When she first met her prospective husband, she's unsure of whether she can even consider the match because she's concerned his family supports the other son.

When it's discovered that the wigs worn by the Hasidic women have actually been made with human hair from India (from women who worship other gods), the rabbis claimed that it's the work of the devil, a punishment for the "promiscuity of their women." (Yes, it's all the women's fault. Always. See above...a religion that treats women with respect?)

 Feldman wrote of her harrowing and humiliating first exposure to the Mikvah, the ritual bath house every woman must visit (and be inspected) before her husband can touch her. For 14 days after her period, she had to touch herself with white cloths twice a day to make sure she was not bleeding, for fear of "contaminating" her holy husband. That's right, women are filthy dirty. She also had a very difficult time bonding with her family members and her son because of the rigid rules and her anxiety about breaking them. It was only when she finally left with her son that she was able to develop a close relationship with him.

I remember learning about the ultra-Orthodox morning prayer men say, "Thank God I was not born a woman." Well, it's easy to understand why Feldman left such a stifling, misogynistic community.

Although Feldman's memoir is not perfect (many characters and events seem to be given short shrift), it's her story...and it's told from her perspective. She writes about the things that mattered most to her. Her mother and father were not significant influences in her life, so they are largely absent. Now that she's left, she has a relationship with her mother. I found this book to be very inspirational, and one that I will hold in my heart for a long time.

Judaism, as with many religions, can be beautiful. But when religion is taken to its extreme (in Christianity, Islam, or Judaism), it perverts it to a love of the law over a love and compassion for others and for God.

You Say Tomato, I Say Shut Up

You Say Tomato, I Say Shut Up,
by Annabelle Gurwitch and Jeff Kahn

I checked this book out of the library not so much for the great title (which my eight-year-old found hilarious) or the main story (about two comedic writers/actors who are married to each other and fight about nearly everything) but primarily because Gurwitch and Kahn have a child with VACTERLS Syndrome, like our little friend Zacary. Their son Ezra was born without an anus, in addition to several other birth defects (he has only one kidney, which is undersized). The first year of Ezra's life, this couple argued constantly in the midst of all their stress and seemed to blame each other for what was going on.

The basis for a lot of humor is complaining, really, so it's ironic that I chose to read a book full of complaining during my own "complaint-free Lent." The book is written alternately in Gurwitch's and Kahn's point of view (He says/She Says), and it is amusing at times to see how differently they remember certain situations. That happens to us sometimes too. But that's where the comparisons stop. We are not bickerers or nitpickers. I think we've found a way to ignore the little things and focus on the best in each other, for the most part. (I do not mean to say we never argue or get annoyed by things the other person does, but we are veritable saints compared to these two.)

Maybe it's being Jewish, or being comedians, or living in southern California. These people complain about everything. Now granted they also wouldn't be that easy to live with either! Kahn comes across as a sex-crazed frat boy at times, whereas Gurwitch appears to be uptight and overly opinionated. I'm sure that much of what they write about is completely over the top, because it's more funny that way.

In the end of the book, they admit that in spite of it all, they really love each other flaws and all. As they quote, some studies have found that as many as 70 percent of marriages dissolve when they have a medically fragile child. I've found that to be true in our personal circle of acquaintances from our NICU family support group. It tests a relationship like nothing else can. These two have survived that (their son is now 11 and doing well), so I think they'll be fine...even though they're not always very nice to each other. We know other couples like that, too...as long as each person gives as good as he or she gets, they seem to thrive on that banter.

I'll stick with my calmer, more respectful marriage though, thank you very much!

In the World of Downton Abbey

The World of Downton Abbey, by Jessica Fellowes

Mike picked this up at the library, as we are both Downton Abbey fans. Jessica Fellowes is the niece of the series' creator, Julian Fellowes.

Although this book is ripe with rich photos of the beautiful costumes and characters, what I valued most about it was reading the history behind the series. In particular, my favorite part was reading about American heiresses like Cora, or "Buccaneers," who saved many of the British aristocrats with their fortunes...while having to adjust to the uptight society and cultural mores of their new home. I'm always interested in the British-American matches, for obvious personal reasons!

It didn't take me long to get through this photo-rich book, but I greatly enjoyed it!

Moonwalking with Einstein

Moonwalking with Einstein,
by Joshua Foer

My friend Catherine lent this book to me after I attended a memory enhancement workshop through my professional society, IABC. I had read one of Foer's brother's books, Everything Is Illuminated, by Jonathan Safran Foer.

In Moonwalking with Einstein, Foer sets out to study the quirky world of professional memory athletes. Within one year of his mental training with the experts (including his British coach), he actually competes in the USA Memory Championships, and even makes a world record in playing card memorization (although his record was broken in 2011).

Interweaving facts and history about memory (including research about amnesia, the history of memorization, and memory savants) with his own story of how he became a memory athlete, the book is interesting and memorable.

At the beginning of the book, Foer suggests that readers create a "memory palace" along with him to remember a random to-do list. I did the exercise and then recited the list to Mike. It was fun to learn a new trick like that...but at times Foer's adventures exhausted me (just reading about them!). Apparently, Americans are babies in the memorization world--akin to the Jamaican bobsledders at the Olympics. The real champs are the Brits and Germans, perhaps because they back into the past more than we Americans, who are obsessed with the future.

In the end, he concludes that it's really not worth all the effort. He forgets his car soon after the memory championships, proving that even though memory tricks can help you memorize facts and figures, they don't necessarily help you with the things that really matter.

Saving CeeCee Honeycutt

Saving CeeCee Honeycutt, by Beth Hoffman

CeeCee Honeycutt's mentally ill mom still lives in her memories of being the 1951 Vidalia Onion Queen. She loves to collect prom dresses and wear them around town, embarassing her 12-year-old daughter. CeeCee's father is absent and detached. When tragedy strikes, she goes to live with her Great-Aunt Tootie in Savannah, Georgia.

CeeCee is embraced by Tootie and all of her friends--her cook Oletta, neighbor Thelma Rae Goodpepper, and the ladies of the Savannah Garden Club. She discovers the meaning of southern hospitality and finds the family and nurturing she never had.

I enjoyed this light, heartwarming novel, although in some cases the plot lacked follow-through, and in others, the conflict resolved all too easily. For those reasons, it definitely seemed like a first novel. I thoroughly enjoyed the friendship between CeeCee and Oletta and the color-blind relationships among all of the women, but I couldn't help but wonder how realistic it was at the time (1960s in the south). In particular, I found it strange to imagine the final garden party, where Oletta and her friends were part of the party with all the other women...and only one of them (the obnoxious neighbor) made a scene about it. So the book seemed a bit idealistic in some ways. However, it was a nice, light read with a compelling story.

A Complaint-Free World: Take the 21-Day Challenge

A Complaint-Free World: Take the 21-day Challenge, by Will Bowen

As I wrote about on Every Day Is a Miracle, I read this book as an encouragement to give up complaining during Lent (easier said than done!). It's a quick little read, and it gave me the structure and impetus I needed to give it a try.

Will Bowen is a minister at Christ Church Unity in Kansas City, Missouri. He started the complaint-free movement in his church by giving away purple bracelets (shown wrapped around the globe, on the book cover) and developing a technique to reduce or eliminate complaining. The idea is that you wear the bracelet on one wrist, and when you complain, criticize, or gossip, you switch the bracelet to the other wrist. The goal is to try to go 21 consecutive days without complaining, criticizing, or gossipping out loud. (It doesn't count if it happens only in your head.) Bowen says that most people have to move their bracelet 15 to 20 times in the first few days, and soon it gets easier and easier. If you complain after 10 complaint-free days, you start all over again to aim for the 21 consecutive days.

The book is quick and easy to read, and gives plenty of testimonials from others who have gone complaint free. When people have challenged Bowen by saying, "But every great thing in our country began with people complaining...think about Thomas Jefferson and Martin Luther King!" he points out that actually, those leaders have inspired millions because they had a positive vision for the future.

"On August 8, 1963, the Rev. Martin Luther King, Jr., did not stand on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial and say, 'Isn't it terrible how we're being treated?' No. He spoke words that struck a chord with our nation and still bring tears to the eyes of those hearing them nearly a half-century later. He did not focus on the problem; he focused beyond the problem...In the Declaration of Independence, Thomas Jefferson did clearly state the challenges the colonies were having under the governance of the British Empires. However, his document, signed July 4, 1775, was not a litany of gripes."

Thomas Jefferson, Martin Luther King, Jr., and Rosa Parks were all dreamers and visionaries, not complainers, although they certainly recognized and fought against the injustices in their times. But they focused beyond the problems, onto the solutions.

I do agree, in part, with Bowen that when you think things will go your way, they are more likely to do so. As he writes, "Our words are powerful. And when we change what we say, we begin to change our lives." I'm as much of a rose-colored glasses person as the next optimist, but I do have a small skeptical side in me that also believes that no matter how much positive thinking (or lack of complaining) you do, it does not exempt you from experiencing sadness or tragedy at times in your life. I remember reading Dr. Christiane Northrup's Women's Bodies Women's Wisdom, in which she theorizes that women's infertility or miscarriage could be caused by ambivalence about being pregnant or negative thinking. This concept upset me greatly as I experienced miscarriage after miscarriage. Although I do believe in a mind-body connection, I do not believe that it's absolute. If that were the case, our friends who have lost babies or children far too early would still have their children with them. So yes, avoiding complaining, worrying, and negative thinking can definitely contribute to a healthier, happier life. But sometimes...shit happens. And it's perfectly appropriate and healthy to complain about it, to a certain extent.

On the other hand, Bowen differentiates complaining from expressing one's feelings. Yesterday, I switched my bracelet to my other wrist after expressing that I was disappointed in someone not returning my calls at work. From what I understand, this is not a complaint...it was an expression of my feelings. So if shit happens, yes you should talk about how it makes you feel. But wallowing in self-pity only hurts you in the long run.

Bowen also indicates that no complaining does not mean accepting things that are wrong. But it means asking for what you need in lieu of complaining or being critical. Understanding the difference is helpful. He suggests these alternate words and ways of thinking:

Instead of...                                       Try...
Problem                                            Opportunity
Have to                                             Get to
Setback                                            Challenge
Enemy                                               Friend
Tormentor                                         Teacher
Pain                                                   Signal
I demand                                           I would appreciate
Complaint                                         Request
Struggle                                            Journey
You did this                                      I created this

As a wise teacher (and my high school speech team coach) once told me, "you don't get to complain unless you're prepared to do something about it," when I complained about another high school's overly loud music across the university center (where we were camped out for the day). I've never forgotten her advice. Now it's time to apply it.

I did better than I thought yesterday (I moved my bracelet three times, including when I was trying to help Kieran choose a birthday present for a friend and he didn't like any of my suggestions...and I finally threw up my hands and said "I give up!"). Today I haven't had to move my bracelet at all. But just wait until something crummy happens (or the kids aggravate me)...that will be the real test!

So far, even thinking about not complaining has improved my mood overall!

Joshua's Oregon Trail Diaries

Westward to Home and A Perfect Place, Joshua's Oregon Trail Diaries (1 and 2), by Patricia Hermes

I just finished reading Book 2 with 8-year-old Kieran. We are going to visit the Oregon Trail Interpretive Center in Baker City over spring break, and I wanted Kieran to have some historical context for the museum. I had tried to interest him in Little House on the Prairie, but either he was too young at the time or he was better able to relate to the male narrator. (Or perhaps it was the idea of traveling to Oregon that interested him.)

These books are very easy to read--he could have easily read them himself but instead I read to him while he was in bed. They depict the trail and homesteading from the perspective of a 10-year-old boy.

The only difficult thing about the books was the high number of deaths and tragedies. And it doesn't end when they finally arrive in Oregon. One of the deaths at the end of Book 2 (of Joshua's grandfather) really took the wind out of our sails, and at that point Kieran did not want me to read any more! A few days later, though, he wanted me to finish.

The books served their purpose: I know that Kieran will be able to relate more to what we see at the interpretive center...and 5-year-old Nicholas, too!

The Power of One: Glad to have finally finished it!

The Power of One, by Bryce Courtenay

Although originally published in 1989 (in the height of apartheid), I'd never heard of The Power of One until my sister read it for her book group. The plot sounded appealing to me, so I put it on hold at the library. Some actually call this "a classic novel of South Africa," although I think that title should belong to the work of Nadine Gordimer and Doris Lessing instead (whose books I read years ago).

I think my opinion of this novel will shift some as I sit with the ending for a few days...but I wanted to write this review while it was still fresh in my mind. It feels like I've been reading this novel for a long time...although it stuck in my mind when I was not reading it, I was also really ready to be done with it. Not a great sign...

English boy Peekay is sent to boarding school at the age of 5 (!) because he has no father and his mother has had a mental breakdown. He is horribly, mercilessly bullied by his South-African schoolmates, who all see him as the enemy because of the Boer War. Right away, I felt dubious because I kept thinking about my own 5-year-old son and realizing that Peekay seemed more like 10 than 5. His only friend is his pet chicken, Grandpa Chook, who understands Peekay thoroughly and can do magic tricks. (Seriously.) In spite of the bullying, Peekay survives and finds a way to rise above it all. (His extreme genius assisting him in this endeavor.)

The story begins to get more interesting when the school year ends and he's sent on a 2-1/2-day train journey to join his family in their new home. (Yes, a 5-year-old, sent alone on a 2-1/2-day train journey...) Along the way he makes some true friends, among them a train guard named Hoppie, who teaches him all about boxing and inspires him to become a boxing champion one day. (In spite of this great friendship, Hoppie goes off to war and is never mentioned again...which seems odd to me.)

When he arrives in his new home in Barberton (where he is to live with his grandpa and his born-again-crazy mother), he makes more true friends in Doc (a German professor of music) and Mrs. Boxall (the town librarian). When Doc is interned in a nearby prison because of his German ancestry, Peekay develops friendships in the prison and begins taking boxing lessons there. Biracial prisoner Geel Piet becomes his dedicated boxing coach and teaches him everything he knows.

Years later Peekay goes off to another boarding school, where he becomes friends with a Jewish boy, Morrie Levy. In the final book of the novel, Peekay spends a year working in the mines in Rhodesia. This is a very MALE book...about the world of boxing, boarding schools, prisons, and mines. Few women live in this world, and the black ones do not even have real names.

First, what I liked about the novel:

• Learning more about the history of English-Boer hostility during World War II
• Reading about life in South Africa during that period--especially as a former coworker was visiting South Africa while I was reading the book and blogging about her adventures and perspectives on the country's crime and racism
• Peekay's unlikely friendship and adventures with Doc
• Some of the earlier stories during the train journey, and the colorful characters such as Hoppie and Big Hettie
• Peekay's efforts to transcend his difficult beginnings and become his own person
• The imagery of the African singing and the music Doc wrote as a tribute to the African tribes (in fact, I really enjoyed all the musical bits, especially the prison concert)

Well. My biggest beef with this novel is that Peekay is too damn perfect. For example (spoilers below!):

• He is several classes ahead of all his peers, wherever he goes, because of his sheer genius.
• He knows several African languages, in addition to Latin.
• Everywhere he goes (after the initial boarding school disaster), people come to worship him.
• He develops a highly successful scheme to smuggle in tobacco and other goodies into the prison, and smuggle letters to prisoners' families out. All while he is a child.
• He NEVER loses a boxing bout. Never, ever.
• He becomes a cactus expert under Doc's tutelage.
• Peekay and Morrie become chosen for the most select group of students to be tutored by the headmaster. Of course.
• Peekay and Morrie make a mint in boarding school through various schemes dreamed up by Morrie, all of them rip-roaring successes.
• He exceeds in every single task he takes on (academics, languages, boxing, rugby, mining), with the one exception of the piano, at which his talent is merely passable.
• He becomes a virtual god for the African people--referred to as the "tadpole angel."
• Even the Black Mamba he faces does not bite him.
• He displays superhuman strength and will as a 17-year-old miner and survives an accident that would have killed anyone else.
• He gets the opportunity to take revenge on his most bitter enemy.

The book was far too long...it could have lost 100 to 150 pages and been much stronger. Courtenay often resorts to getting preachy and "tells" far more than he shows. The bad people are REALLY bad, and they all get their due in the end...every one of them. Several people lose their lives because of Peekay, and he doesn't seem to have any sort of self-reflection or guilt that he caused their deaths through his arrogance. He takes all his privileges and success for granted.

I believe that Courtenay, who grew up in South Africa but now lives in Australia, had great intentions to write a book that examined the origins of apartheid and criticized the cruel way that blacks were treated. But instead, it's just another book about a white savior--a perfect white boy who triumphs over the odds. The black tribes all come to worship Peekay because he begins smuggling in tobacco to the prison and starts a letter-writing initiative so they can contact their relatives...and they've seen his expertise in the boxing ring. In fact, he becomes legendary across South Africa so that when he moves to his new school in another part of the country, they all know about the "Tadpole Angel."

I thought it would be more about the origins of apartheid and race relations in South Africa, but really, it wasn't. It was about this perfect boy and his life .

I'm not sure I understand the meaning of "The Power of One," especially because of all the friends and supporters Peekay developed throughout his life. They all lifted him up and helped him accomplish what he did. Yet when Morrie tries to help him by lending him the money to go to Oxford, he refuses his aid. This didn't make much sense to me, especially as Morrie wouldn't have had such success over the years without Peekay...and he allowed others to help him before. Instead, he puts aside his academic career to choose a rough, dangerous life in the mines.

And the ending...horrific, unredeeming, and sickening. Any fondness I had for Peekay as a character dissolved in the last few pages. In spite of all the love and support he received, Doc's wise guidance, and all the superhuman success he'd achieved, when he meets his nemesis, he must take revenge in a truly merciless manner? Maybe the message of "The Power of One," in the end, is that each person is alone and must fight to the death to survive? Closing the book, I felt sick to my stomach.

Second Fiddle

Second Fiddle,by Rosanne Parry

I finally got around to reading Second Fiddle, the middle-grade novel written by a long-time friend from our church, Rosanne Parry. Years ago Rosanne invited Mike to join her children's writers' group (which has been a great boost and encouragement for him), so she's been a great help to Mike in his own writing career.

Second Fiddle's focus on orchestral music and girls' friendship drew me in and kept me hooked through the novel. Jody is an army kid in Berlin, Germany, right after the fall of the Berlin Wall. She plays second violin in a string trio with her more sophisticated friends Giselle and Vivian; however, Giselle and Jody are due to return to the U.S. soon and Jody is feeling sad that their trio collaborations are about to come to an end.

Their last big hurrah is meant to be a solo and ensemble competition in Paris, but their music teacher falls ill and cannot accompany them. Just as they are nursing their disappointment about the thwarted Parisian trip, they venture into East Berlin to have gelato...and inadvertently witness an attempted murder of a Soviet Union soldier.

They rescue Arvo (who is actually Estonian) out of the river and revive him. In the ensuing days, they nurse him back to health as he hides under the bridge in East Berlin. Then they come up with a plan: why not go to Paris with Arvo disguised as their music teacher? Then he can meet other Estonians and return to his country.

They get into all sorts of adventures in Paris, and girls especially will enjoy reading about the friendship among the three young musicians. Rosanne has a special knack about writing about military families, because of her experience as part of a military family herself. (She lived in Berlin around the time the novel was set with her soldier husband and baby.) She also illustrated this knack and sensitivity in her first published novel, Heart of a Shepherd. Her web site has some great resources and tips for military families--and for supporting friends in military families.

Second Fiddle made me want to pick up my violin again! Stay tuned for an interview with Rosanne and a book giveaway in March, in time for the paperback release of Second Fiddle.

Song Yet Sung

Song Yet Sung, by James McBride
Runaway slave Liz Spocott has been captured by a brutal slave stealer and squirrelled away in an attic with many other slaves. Hit on the head as a young girl, Liz has the ability to dream the future and is soon named "the Dreamer." Soon she escapes the clutches of the evil, legendary slave stealer Patty Cannon and her henchmen (including Cannon's son-in-law, Joe) and she's on the run.

Set in the dark, mysterious, and mucky swamps of Maryland's eastern shore in 1850, the story also involves a widow, her sons, and her slaves; a slave catcher, Denwood, who Liz's master lures out of retirement; and a mysterious man who lives in the swamps, the "Woolman" and his son. Amid the wars over runaway slaves and the disturbing violence associated with slavery were the stubborn, rough-and-tumble watermen who fished the bay for oysters and were distanced from the slave owners and catchers.

McBride, who wrote The Color of Water (which I read and enjoyed many years ago), felt inspired to write this novel after studying the story of Harriet Tubman and the Underground Railroad, and much of the book is based on historical events and figures (such as Patty Cannon). Liz Spocott shares the same condition Tubman did (the serious injury to the head resulting in vivid, futuristic dreams), and Tubman is referred to indirectly as "Moses."

Although others urge her to flee north, Liz does not want to leave Maryland (I'm not entirely sure why). She is taught about "the Code," the hidden clues and signals leading to freedom. Many of the slaves, while miserable in their bondage and feeling that their lives had no value, were conflicted about attempting to make an escape. Others involved in helping slaves escape found themselves facing horrendously difficult decisions about turning one slave in to save many others. Some of the whites, too, had moments of moral dilemma, when they wondered whether they were doing the right thing.

I look forward to discussing this book with my book group tonight. McBride gives us a chilling, sensory glimpse into the lives and losses of slaves and the horrors they faced when they tried to run away.