Major Pettigrew's Last Stand

Major Pettigrew's Last Stand, by Helen Simonson

This book was my book group's selection for August. Major Pettigrew is an old-school English military man, of the type we wouldn't typically find in the United States. He insists on being called "major," even by civilians. As a widower and father of a shallow, materialistic son, he doesn't seem to have much purpose in his life until he finds late-blooming love.

The object of his affection is a Pakistani shop keeper in his small village, Mrs. Ali, also a widow. Of course, the narrow-minded villagers, along with Major Pettigrew's and Mrs. Ali's own family members, do not think very highly of their blossoming relationship.

Major Pettigrew's Last Stand has been described as Austenesque, and I would agree with that. Two unlikely lovers, humorous (and horrifyingly obtuse) situations and people in the midst of serious issues, and exquisite storytelling. We had an interesting discussion at my book group meeting about how English this story was...the English woman in my book group didn't necessarily agree, but I think many things about the story are quintessentially English. Perhaps it's just a matter of a small English village--even our American small towns are not quite the same way--or the class structure so firmly entrenched in English culture and history.

Although Major Pettigrew starts out as an uptight English snob, he evolves during the novel.

The ending seemed a bit far-fetched, but I still enjoyed this book and would recommend it!

Bruised, by Sarah Skilton

This book took a bit of time for me to grow into, but I liked it in the end. It's about 16-year-old Imogen, a black belt in Tae Kwon Do, who is a witness to an armed robbery and shooting in a diner. She feels completely responsible when the gunman is shot and killed by the police.

It took awhile before Skilton revealed why Imogen blamed herself for this violent man's death...and until then I had a hard time understanding why she was reacting the way she was. Yes, she had a black belt...but that's no match for a gun.

She becomes self-destructive and nothing really moves her except for Ricky, the boy who was also there in the diner that night. She has an intact, loving family, but has some issues there as well. Imogen is just flat out angry at life, and after the diner incident occurs, this feeling intensifies. 

When Imogen finds herself attracted to Ricky, she enters a huge internal battle about love and strength. Can someone love you and want to protect you? Can she allow herself to feel vulnerable? Can Ricky allow Imogen to be just as strong as he is?

This was the second young adult book I read during my surgery recovery, and it was worth the effort. Excellent first novel by Skilton, also a black belt in Tae Kwon Do.

The Chosen One

The Chosen One, by Carol Lynch Williams

As I'm recovering from another ear surgery, I decided to try out some young adult books in the hopes that they would retain my attention better. Pain meds combined with pain and fatigue after surgery tend to make it difficult for me to spend much time reading. I was very proud of myself that I finished the novel I was reading after my surgery!

I picked up The Chosen One by pulling it off the shelf at the library and reading the book jacket. It's the story of Kyra, who is the second-oldest daughter of her father, who has three wives. She is a member of The Chosen Ones, a fundamentalist Mormon, polygamist compound, which is tightly run by the dictator, "Prophet" Childs.

The prophet has decreed that Kyra, at age 13, will marry her Uncle Hyrum, older brother to her own father (in his 60s, with three wives), in four weeks. Although her father is against it, the family has no choice. He's too scared to resist. The prophet rules the compound with an iron, violent hand, forbidding anyone from reading or disobeying his orders. He threatens Kyra's father that he will take his entire family away from him if he cannot get Kyra to marry Uncle Hyrum. I couldn't help but think of the slimy, evil prophet in the polygamous compound in the TV show "Big Love."

Kyra has her own love interest: a boy her own age, named Joshua, who wants to marry Kyra. She also sneaks away to take books out from the bookmobile that goes past the compound each week. Kyra must decide if she will leave her own family forever to be free. Either choice has enormously heavy consequences, not just for her but for the people who help her.

The Street of a Thousand Blossoms

The Street of a Thousand Blossoms, by Gail Tsukiyama

In this WWII- and post-war-era story that takes place in Japan, two orphaned brothers were growing up with their grandparents. Tall, strong Hiroshi is drawn to the tradition of sumo, while younger, sensitive Kenji wants to be an artisan and create masks for the Noh theater. When the war hits, their plans are put on hold.

This sweeping saga covers 30 years and several parts of Kenji and Hiroshi's eventual families. Gail Tsukiyama, who is part Japanese and part Chinese, paints a clear picture of what it was like to live in Japan during the war. For example, I wasn't aware that Japan had a brutal military police similar to the Stazi, called the Kempeitai. During the bombing raids, all the Japanese had to protect themselves were hand-dug, flimsy bomb shelters in their yards, which were highly ineffective and exposed them to the constant bombings. At the same time that the Japanese military was carrying out horrific abuses and terror throughout Asia, the everyday Japanese people, many of whom did not support the war but could not say so publicly, were suffering as well.

Eventually after the war, Japan began to rebuild itself, and Kenji and Hiroshi were able to pursue their personal passions. They both got married, and Kenji rebuilds his relationship with his Noh mask sensei, who had escaped to the mountains during the war. Much of this book is very sad, as war-time stories often are. Because of my fondness for Japan, I enjoyed learning more about sumo and Noh theater, and perhaps might have a greater appreciation than other readers for the Japanese language and culture woven so artistically through this book.

It doesn't move particularly quickly, but it's beautifully told. It's more of an artistic story than a gripping tale. Kenji and Hiroshi's grandparents are fascinating characters, although I would have liked to have better understood Haru and Aki, daughters of Hiroshi's sumo master. Aki, in particular, was an enigma...both girls were traumatized by what they saw in the war, and Aki never really recovered from this trauma. I also would have liked to know modern, independent Mika (Kenji's wife) better...she was another mystery. She represented a new type of woman in Japan, but how did she come to be that way? We never find out.

For someone who usually writes such strong female characters (I greatly enjoyed Tsukiyama's Women of the Silk and The Language of Threads), I'm surprised that her female characters were lacking substance.

The Street of a Thousand Blossoms is about a changing Japan, and tells stories of how the Japanese were forced to adopt new ways of life and new forms of culture (such as western dress). In spite of modernization, Japan still clings to many forms of its traditional culture, more than most industrialized countries, in fact. For example, women are still not allowed to enter the sumo ring, for fear that the "unclean" women would pollute it with their presence.

I enjoyed this book, but it was not my favorite of Tsukiyama's. I learned a lot of new information about Japan, but I think richer information about the female characters would have made it so much stronger.

Cyndi Lauper: A Memoir

Cyndi Lauper: A Memoir, by Cyndi Lauper with Jancee Dunn

My first memory of Cyndi Lauper was when I was a junior in college, and "Money Changes Everything" was a big hit. In the video, Cyndi Lauper kicks a garbage can...and my roommate and I would blast the music and pretend to kick things. You know...the silly things one does in college!

Then when I was in Japan in the late 1980s, both Cyndi Lauper and Madonna were all the rage. I bought her "True Colors" cassette tape (yes, that's right--that's how old I am) and I loved her unique sense of style, which was appealing to this woman whose mom once told her, "Marie--you have a style all your own!" In that era I had short, spiky hair with a tail (wish I had a photo) and I've always been drawn to colorful clothing. Lauper was a true pioneer in the 1980s, inspiring many of today's edgy artists such as Lady Gaga, Nikki Minaj, and Pink.

Then a few summers ago we went to see Cyndi Lauper perform at the Oregon Zoo after she'd made her blues album, "Memphis Blues." She was a dynamic, compelling, and talented performer, who had essentially reinvented herself as a blues singer. She even had blues legend Charlie Musselwhite on tour with her. When she sang "True Colors," I cried along with most of the audience.

Cyndi Lauper's memoir is very much like her personality--all over the place. Writer Jancee Dunn manages to capture Lauper's voice and style in her writing. The narrative jumps around a bit, and she digresses, just as Lauper does...you can practically hear her distinctive voice jumping off the page.

She seemed to have a reasonably happy childhood and she was loved by her mom and siblings, but she never really fit in. She ran away when she was in high school because of a lecherous stepfather.  What I admire the most about her is her crazy sense of self-confidence and self-assurance, even at a young age. She took herself off camping in Canada completely alone as a young woman--the only companion she had was her dog Sparkles. She has always been passionately committed to her ideals of justice, and she's also been committed to making great art--both musically and visually.

When she started to get successful and make records (after some awful experiences with some of her initial bands, including once when she was raped by her former bandmates), she was screwed over by record company executives, who wanted to make her into someone else--more marketable and less assertive.

At times, the book digressed into the details of each record production, and I began scanning...but I enjoyed reading about how she met her husband David and had her son, Declyn, after struggling with bad endiometriosis.

She has become a passionate advocate for LGBT justice, beginning with her friendship with Gregory, or "Boy Blue," who died of AIDS in the 1980s. Her beloved sister Elen also is a lesbian. I also learned that she has a strong connection to Japan, and she landed in Japan right after the big earthquake and tsunami and stayed there to give back to the Japanese people, who were mourning the devastation in their country.

I have a much bigger appreciation for Cyndi Lauper's music now...and I'm glad I read this book. Steer clear if you don't like salty language!

Wave

Wave, by Sonali Deraniyagala

This is a devastating, heart-breaking memoir about grief. If you can't handle this kind of story, stop right here.

Sonali Deraniyagala opens up the book in Yala, on the southern coast of Sri Lanka, where she was vacationing with her husband, two sons, and parents over the Christmas holidays of 2004. Within a few moments, the massive tsunami took away the lives of everyone she loved most dearly, and she nearly died herself. Can you imagine what this would be like? Savoring the post-holiday pleasures with your children, who were playing with their Christmas gifts, and your husband is sitting on the toilet reading? Suddenly you see a wave rising up way too high and approaching your hotel and you tell everyone to run. They ran so fast that they didn't even have time to warn her parents, whose room was next door. Not that it would have mattered.

Steve, Vikram, and Malli

Sri Lankan-born Deraniyagala lost her beloved sons Vik and Malli and her English husband Steve. And parents who she loved dearly. Of course she wished she were dead too.

Over the next several years, she passes through the many stages of grief...total depression and devastation, anger, bitterness, alcoholism, you name it. She seemed well cared for by her friends and family, but we don't really get to know any of them well in this book.

It's clear that she had money, as the family did not sell her parents' home in Colombo (where she grew up). After initially renting it out to a Dutch family (who Deraniyagala tormented during one of her manic phases of grief), they left it standing empty so they could return to it. She did the same with their house in London--it was kept as a sort of monument to her family, with the boys' things untouched as they left them. In fact, she didn't even return to the London house until nearly 4 years after they had died. Not everyone would have the resources to do this. Most people would have their grief compounded by having to give up those memories far more quickly than they were ready to.

Deraniyagala's family

I remember when my friend Laurie lost her son Zacary at age four, devastating enough as it is, but then she and her husband had to sell the house where Zacary lived (because of money problems) ...shedding those precious memories of him in that house. That is what Deraniyagala clings to, still.

At first she doesn't want to face her memories, but gradually she starts recollecting the wonderful details of her children...athletic, intelligent Vikram who was interested in the natural world, and the younger son, Malli, who was expressive, sensitive, and liked to dress up in a tutu. She looks back on her husband's childhood in inner-city London, growing up in a council flat, and how she met him at Cambridge. I loved how Steve would drive through Europe with his father on his lorry runs, sampling the cuisine along the way...and later he would become the chef in their family. They loved to go to the London fish markets early in the morning to purchase the freshest catch. He adopted Sri Lanka as his own, and they spent as much time there as possible.

After the wave

My only quibble with this book is that she sometimes uses run-on sentences divided only by commas. I'm not sure if this was a deliberate stylistic choice but I'm guessing it must have been, I found that to be distracting. (See what I mean??)

Deraniyagala doesn't address the rest of the 230,000 people who died in that tsunami. As she returns to Yala over and over again, she paces the destruction left behind...but she doesn't talk about the way the wave affected the community. She doesn't talk about all the people whose loved ones died and who didn't have the resources or support she did.

Tsunami damage

That's not what this book was about. It's about grief, pure and simple, and how one woman finds her way through it. It's searingly honest and candid...and brave.

A few days after the tsunami hit in Japan, Deraniyagala took a trip out deep into the Indian Ocean, south of the southern tip of Sri Lanka...the sea that divides Sri Lanka from Antarctica. She went on a whale-watching trip and saw great blue whales breaching. Her son Vikram had always wanted to see a blue whale, and at first she felt that it was unfair that she should be able to do so without him...but then she let herself savor the magical moment on his behalf.

Some reviewers have wanted more hope or resolution in this book, but that was not the purpose. Grief never resolves. It can fade away gradually, but it endures.

And the Mountains Echoed

And the Mountains Echoed, by Khaled Hosseini

This is the third novel by Khaled Hosseini, who wrote The Kite Runner and A Thousand Splendid Suns, both of which I loved (and gave five stars to). While The Kite Runner was a wonderful, heart-breaking story of boys' friendship, I found A Thousand Splendid Suns to be even more poignant and beautiful because it was about two women who were thrown together in marriage to the same men, but eventually forged a strong bond and sisterhood. 

Hosseini's new novel steps away from the classic form and ambitiously takes on multiple perspectives and stories about family, both biological and chosen, and how one choice can change several people's lives. 

It starts out in the 1950s as a story about a 10-year-old boy, Abdullah, and his 3-year-old sister, Pari, who are closely intertwined to each other. Their mother died giving birth to Pari, so Abdullah had the primary responsibility of raising his sister. Their father remarried a woman, Parwana, who didn't have much love for the children, as she was nursing a dark secret of her own. Living in a small Afghani village, their father struggled to put food on the table and the previous winter one of their younger children died from the cold. When given a chance to change this situation, he sold Pari to a wealthy family in Kabul, his brother-in-law's employers. Abdullah and Pari were torn apart tragically.

Hosseni is a brilliant writer--he paints a vivid landscape on the page and his characters are complex, multilayered, and interesting. I wanted to know more about Abdullah and Pari, but when Pari grows into an older child, her mother takes her off to Paris and we don't hear anything about her until she is older. Her mother is a narcissistic woman, and Pari doesn't learn the real truth about her origins or her adopted father until many years after her mother dies. Pari's adopted father is a cold, aloof man, who has his own secret reason for his unhappiness, but found joy in Pari as a young child.

And this is my only fault with this book...it's like a series of loosely interwoven stories, each chapter starting with a different perspective and setting. I am not a fan of short stories for this reason...I want to sink my teeth into a story, and short stories are just not long enough for me to get immersed. The plot jumped around from the Afghani village to Kabul to Paris to San Francisco to Greece, and some of the characters I preferred to others. Many I just wanted more of...especially Pari and Abdullah.

Each character lacked love or experienced pain in relationships, much of them with their family members. But love is also found in unusual and subtle ways.

This novel is not nearly as tragic as Hosseini's first two, and some of the characters find redemption and reconciliation in the end. Beyond the colorful storytelling and wonderful stories of families and friendship, And the Mountains Echoed opens the world to Afghanistan, not just as a war-torn country of tragedy, but one of real relationships, heartbreak, and love.

Towelhead

Towelhead, by Alicia Erian

This book's been on my bookshelf for some time--I must have picked it up at a used book sale--and I was intrigued by the title. It takes place in the 1980s, when Bush sets us on our first war in Iraq. Jasira, age 13, is sent to live with her Lebanese dad in Texas after her mom becomes concerned that her boyfriend is more interested in her daughter than he is in her.

Everywhere she goes, Jasira craves love and affection, but she gets it nowhere. She's bullied at school (Texas, after all) and has no friends. Her father is strict, unaffectionate, and cold. Her mom is a drama queen and wants everything to be about her.

Jasira seeks out affection in the unhealthiest of places--with the racist neighbor next door (twice her age or older) and by developing a sexual relationship with a boy at school.

I found this story to be extremely sad and disturbing, evidence of what happens when a child does not experience healthy love and affection. Jasira has no understanding of what is good, healthy, and loving, and she makes bad choices constantly.

The end brings some positive resolution, but I can't help but think that if she were real, Jasira would continue to make bad choices and seek out love in the wrong places.

Banished: Surviving My Years in the Westboro Baptist Church

Banished: Surviving My Years in the Westboro Baptist Church, by Lauren Drain and Lisa Pulitzer

I feel ambivalent about this book, which I finished several days ago. Lauren Drain's family moved to Kansas to join the Westboro Baptist Church (WBC) after her father, an atheist libertarian, was making a documentary about the group. He soon become absorbed and went full bore. They were one of the few families who were not part of the Fred Phelps dynasty.

Lauren became an enthusiastic picketer, truly believing that WBC had a straight line to heaven...even though they apparently believe in predestination. A couple of things about the WBC surprised me: they highly value education and encourage all members to pursue careers...even women, although in many other ways, women are treated as second-class citizens. Conversely, the second in command at WBC is Shirley Phelps-Roper, one of Fred Phelps' daughters. Another thing I learned is that WBC pickets and protests not to convert or save people from hell, but only to proclaim what they believe.

Some reviewers have commented that Lauren should have waited a few more years to write her memoir--she comes across as a teenager, even though she's now a young woman. I don't think she would have left the church on her own volition--she seemed to love it too much, even though she was beginning to chafe against the favoritism shown to the Phelps family. She did not leave because she disagreed with the church's teachings. Essentially, she was kicked out because she was asking lots of challenging questions and she was drawn to have relationships with men. The WBC rules forbid any contact with people outside the church, and Drain had only one marital prospect within the church. She says now that she stayed in the church because she couldn't bear to leave her family.

In the epilogue, Drain apologizes to gay people for being so hateful, saying the classic "some of my friends are gay" (can't believe her cowriter actually included this staple of prejudice!). But it didn't feel completely genuine to me...I think I might have felt more convinced had the writing been stronger. When I finished the book, I had the impression that if Lauren's family wanted her back in the church...and she could still have freedom to have a relationship with a man outside the WBC...she would be back in a heartbeat. It just didn't ring true to me. She seemed to get such a high level of enjoyment out of the picketing and didn't seem to realize, even later, the depth of hatred she espoused.

However, when I watched an interview with her, I felt more convinced that she was glad she was out. Drain describes the WBC as like a gang. When you are part of it, you feel a sense of belonging. But if you leave, they pray for your doom and destruction.

Drain was treated horribly by her family and the rest of the church...and she is still scarred from that treatment. She hasn't seen her parents or siblings for 5 years.

I did find it interesting to get inside of the WBC and try to understand their hate and evil...but the book itself could have been better.

Vanishing Acts

Vanishing Acts, by Jodi Picoult
Wow--this is the 11th book I've read by Jodi Picoult. Some are definitely better than others. The only two I've given five stars to have been Keeping Faith and Sing You Home. This one I would put in the "average" category.

I like Picoult's books because she always poses ethical dilemmas and creates complex characters, many of whom have deep flaws but good intentions. They often have courtroom drama and surprising twists at the end.

The main character, Delia Hopkins, raised by her widowed father in New England, is now a mother and is engaged to her daughter's father, Andrew. Then she discovers that she was kidnapped by her own father when she was just four...and her mother is still alive. Andrew is an alcoholic and just happens to also be a lawyer, so she asks him to represent her father, even though he doesn't have much experience with trials...and is not licensed to practice in Arizona, where the case goes to court.

As usual, Picoult's books are highly readable and accessible...but this one will not stand out in my memory. The plot seemed to meander. The characters frustrated me at times. The "surprise" wasn't really much of a surprise. I found it hard to understand why Delia made the decisions she did, and I didn't like what happened to the most intriguing character in the book. The prison scenes were awful and implausible...her dad is supposed to be this great guy, yet he helps manufacture meth and shoots a staple into someone's eye??? And I know prison can be awful, but is it typically this brutal? And are alcoholics never allowed to have happy endings?

In summary, this book was okay...but Jodi Picoult has done so much better.

Sexist book covers



What if my husband's beloved Game of Thrones series had been written by a woman?

Yesterday author Maureen Johnson tweeted "I do wish I had a dime for every email I get that says, "Please put a non-girly cover on your book so I can read it. Signed, A Guy." So she challenged her 77,000 followers. A challenge that she called Coverflip.

 

Check out the full story and see some of the gender-twisted covers here. They are a true wake-up call! For example, here's one book written by a woman--and its girly cover--followed by what it would have looked like if written by a male author!

A Tale for the Time Being

A Tale for the Time Being, by Ruth Ozeki

A Tale for the Time Being is the first full-price hardcover book I remember purchasing for myself, ever. As I wrote in February, Ozeki has long been one of my favorite authors, and I was thrilled when I read that she had finally published her third novel. I went to see/hear Ozeki read from this book at Powell's, and I was enchanted. In the intervening time since she published All Over Creation, she became a Zen Buddhist priest. Clearly, this experience informs this novel.

She explained that she has always wanted to do the audio recordings of her books, but publishers prefer not to have authors read their own books. She realized that if she put enough Japanese words in the book, they would let her do her own reading. After listening to her read, I think I might like to listen to the audio book too. This is a highly unusual reaction for me, as I don't often read books twice--at least not until many years have passed. Take a look at this beautiful trailer for the book--you can see what I mean when you hear Ozeki's voice:

 

I found myself reading this book very slowly--it took me most of April to read, in fact. Ozeki is a poetic, lyrical writer. I am often drawn to her books because they are set in Japan or the United States (or both) and feature Japanese or Japanese-American characters. This was no different.

It's the story of 16-year-old Nao, who is living in Tokyo but spent much of her childhood in Sunnyvale, California. She is mercilessly bullied by her classmates and even her teachers. Some might find it difficult to believe, but bullying is an extreme problem in Japan, and it's even tolerated and sometimes encouraged by the adults in charge. Her father, who lost his job in California and has become unemployable back in Japan, keeps attempting suicide, which is considered an honorable out in Japan. The only bright spot in Nao's life is her 104-year-old great-grandmother, who is an anarchist, feminist, novelist Buddhist nun, who she calls Old Jiko. She decides that she's going to commit suicide, but first she wants to tell the story of Old Jiko's life in her diary.

Ruth, a Japanese-American novelist living on an island in British Columbia, finds Nao's diary washed up on the beach. The resemblance between Ruth the character and Ruth the novelist is more than just their name, ancestry, and location. Ozeki has actually put herself, and her husband Oliver, into the novel.

As Ruth begins reading the book, she becomes captivated by Nao's life and begins to care very deeply about what happens to her. Not too long after the Japanese earthquake and tsunami, initially Ruth believes that this is what has caused the diary to come into her hands.

I loved so many things about this novel...the way that Nao finds such deep solace and healing in writing down her pain, the wisdom of old Jiko and the way she connects with her young great-granddaughter, the connections between Japan and North America--present in each of Ozeki's novels, the way Ozeki describes the sparsely populated island on which she and Oliver live, the poignant reflections of Nao's great-uncle's time in the Japanese army and Nao's connections with him, and the spiritual, symbolic activities of the crow, cat, and the sea. So many things have changed since I left Japan, and so many things remain the same.

As Nao goes to visit Old Jiko up on the mountaintop, I envisioned the monastery to look something like Koya-san, where I visited while I lived in Japan. I could picture Nao riding the bus up that mountain and communing with the trees and spirits while she visited there.

So many things about this story were deeply sad, but ultimately, the novel had great redemptive power and spiritual meaning. I highly recommend it--A Tale for the Time Being will definitely be at the top of my book list for the year. It was worth the full price, as the story will stick with me for a long time.

50 reasons you should be a bookworm

Book lovers need to check this out: 50 reasons you should be a bookworm, by Qwiklit.com, which looks like a great web site to add to my list. I'm always looking for reliable sources for book recommendations.

The Little Book

The Little Book, by Selden Edwards

I'd been looking forward to reading The Little Book for my book group this month, and in the beginning I was sure I would love it--time travel fascinates me. But love it I did not. I would give it a solid three stars, but I felt bogged down by some of the plot. It took me a few weeks to finish it.

Edwards took 30 years to finish this book, and in some ways it felt like he was overambitious. He tackles fin de siecle Vienna, the life of Sigmund Freud and Gustav Mahler, World War II, Mark Twain, and Adolf Hitler...oh, and baseball and rock music and supposedly the beginning of the feminist movement, too.

Wheeler Burden is the protagonist--a character so perfect (star baseball player and brilliant rock musician) that he reminds me of Peekay in that dratted book The Power of One (although I liked this book better than that one). His father was perfect too, and even a war hero worshipped in several different countries. The book starts when Wheeler is 47 in 1988, and he goes back to fin de siecle Vienna in the year 1897, where he falls in love with his grandmother and befriends his now-dead father. (Yes, he was in love with his grandmother...is that weird and creepy or what??? Who cares if he's not technically related by blood? Still creepy.)

I enjoyed the descriptions of Vienna during the turn of the century, and many of the characters were colorful and interesting (I would have liked to have seen more of Wheeler's mother, though). I learned more about the formation of Sigmund Freud's ideas and the rise of fascism in Europe...and I find it intriguing to consider: what would I do if I could change the course of the world by pre-empting an evil dictator's rise to power?

But the book also had some serious flaws. Enough of the baseball...boring, and I couldn't really see how it was important for the story. The ramblings about "the Venerable Haze" and the "Little Book" got tiresome too. What was so brilliant about the "Little Book"? It was entirely unclear to me. As Ron Charles writes in his review in The Washington Post, "We never hear anything from this book ourselves, but we're told again and again how great it is."

Charles sums up my thoughts:

"In fact, Edwards makes so many hyperbolic claims that The Little Book begins to sound rather flat, like a tall tale told without a wink. Edwards can't stop petting Wheeler and reminding us how wonderful he is. Of course, he's incredibly good looking and sexually athletic, but he also writes a foundational work of 20th-century philosophy and inspires "the beginning of the American feminist movement." (You didn't think women could do that on their own, did you?) And he throws the fastest pitch in college baseball (at Harvard, naturally). Then he writes "the most famous song of the 1970s" and becomes "one of People magazine's Most Recognizable." Then he publishes a bestselling book in the 1980s. The whole narrative is soggy with hero-worship, like the fantasy of a skinny teenage boy staring into a mirror."

What finally makes my head hurt in this whole time travel adventure is that we never really learn how they are able to time travel. Is it hereditary? Or perhaps sort of afterlife experience? And supposedly they are in an endless loop, ever meeting again...so the world will never end? I just can't get my head around it. I wanted some sort of resolution to how this weird time travel thing happened, but I never got one.

This book was wildly inventive and wacky, and I give kudos to Selden Edwards for dreaming it up. Perhaps if he had worked on the book for fewer years and not tried to make it so full of meticulous research, I would have found it less frustrating. And what the heck would they do with a wooden frisbee? Find fame and fortune? The characters were just too damn perfect for my liking (except for that incest grandmother-grandson thing...which I still find incredibly odd that the author thought this was romantic), while at the same time I didn't feel that sympathetic or connected to Wheeler. I liked his mother better.

Unexpectedly Milo

Unexpectedly Milo, by Matthew Dicks

This was another "scan the library bookshelves" find, a quirky story about a thirtysomething man (Milo Slade) who has an unususal form of obsessive-compulsive disorder. It manifests itself in making strange demands on his brain and taking over his life until he satisfies them. For example, a word will pop into his head and his obsession will not go away until someone spontaneously says this word. Or he will suddenly have the need to pop the seals on grape jelly jars, bowl a strike, see a movie he's watched several times before, let all the air out of his tires, or sing a karaoke version of "99 Luftballons" in German (remember that song from the '80s?) in front of an audience. And he keeps all this a secret from everyone.

As you can imagine, his marriage was not terribly successful. When the novel begins, he and his wife Christine have separated, although it seems that neither of them are convinced that's what they really want. Milo is a home health care nurse and seems to have a stronger relationship with his patients than he does with his wife (who of course knows nothing of his disorder but probably just thinks he's weird).

One day Milo finds a video camera with a bag of tapes under a park bench. He returns the next day to find them still there, so he takes them home and begins watching the videos. They're made by a grieving young woman he initially coins "Freckles," and she has a lot of secrets, too. Milo is determined to help this woman feel better by solving one of her problems. He takes off on a road trip to North Carolina to find a friend of hers, who had vanished 20+ years earlier.

This journey makes Milo realize that he's not the only one who is a bit odd and he's also not the only one hiding secrets. He begins to reveal more of himself and understand what he really wants and doesn't want out of his life.

After awhile, the demands did get a bit annoying to read about...I suppose Milo felt far worse. I wonder if this is a real type of OCD, or if it's something the author made up. I had a hard time understanding why Milo didn't want to get help for this problem of his--it would have driven me crazy! I didn't feel particularly sympathetic to Milo because of the way he detached himself from others through his secrets. My favorite part of the novel was when he met with one of his elderly clients, who were all far more honest and genuine than Milo himself.

Veil of Roses

Veil of Roses, by Laura Fitzgerald

I'm easily drawn into stories that take place in different countries or cultures, such as this novel about a young woman who leaves Iran to come to the U.S., determined to find a man to marry so she can immigrate permanently.

Tamila Soroush arrives in Arizona to visit her sister and her husband and study English...although her primary purpose is to get hitched. Her sister is determined to find her a good Persian husband...within 3 months. She befriends the others in her English class and meets Ike, a barista at a nearby Starbucks. As you can guess, she falls in love with Ike...not one of the nice Persian men she's supposed to marry. 

What really bothered me about this book was that Tamila seems to speak near-perfect English. She only makes one error in her English conversation, which is to use the word "foots" instead of "feet." What is particularly strange about this is that she also uses words and expressions such as "clandestine," "incorrigible," "somehow I doubt that," corrupted," "what-ever (emphasis on the 'ever'), "that's for sure," and "crazy as a loon." I taught English as a foreign language for three years, and very few new English speakers speak like this...and I'm guessing they don't teach English in school in Iran! The prose is flowery and overdone at times, such as "(My smile) is Julia Roberts huge, only by now, it is all mine and it is for real. And it does not need to be surgically corrected." 

The plot is predictable, but that's expected for this kind of book (the cover, after all, is pink), but the ending was a bit different than what I expected.  It was an easy read, and sometimes that's okay...but it could have been so much more.

Favorite author: Ruth Ozeki (new book coming out!)

In the days before I started blogging and writing book reviews, I read two books by a Japanese-American writer and film maker named Ruth Ozeki: My Year of Meats and All Over Creation. I got to hear her read at my local bookstore, Annie Bloom's, one evening as well, and I found her to be inspiring and eloquent. I named her as one of my "15 writers who have influenced me."

Ozeki is also a Zen Buddhist priest (ordained in 2010) and is the editor of the Everyday Zen website.

I gave both My Year of Meats and All Over Creation five stars on Goodreads.com and they were #1 and #2 on my "Best Reads of 2004" fiction list, so as you can imagine I was very excited to read that Ozeki FINALLY has another novel out--to be published in early March. Here's why you should read Ruth Ozeki:

My Year of Meats

My Year of Meats tells two parallel stories: that of documentary film maker Jane Takagi-Little, who is assigned to a new Japanese TV show sponsored by a beef export company, "My American Wife," which shows Japanese housewives how to prepare American meat, and of Akiko Ueno, the wife of the Japanese producer, who is bulimic and deeply unhappy. The story explores Japan's fascination with all things American in addition to the sometimes-harsh reality of being a Japanese housewife. Jane soon uncovers information about the American way of producing meat. It's not pretty. This book contributed to my decision to stop eating red meat many years ago. Some have called it a modern-day Upton Sinclair's The Jungle. You have been warned. As I'm always interested in all things Japan and in particular connections between Japanese and American women, this book is one of my all-time faves. 

All Over Creation

Moving from meat and onto potatoes, this novel takes place on a farm in Idaho, with another Japanese-American protagonist, Yumi Fuller. She hasn't been home for 25 years, but she brings her three children home to her parents' potato farm when they both become ill. She soon becomes enmeshed in the complexities of agribusiness and genetically modified food. This book has a quirky cast of characters, such as a band of activists who travel the country in a van biofueled by french-fry oil and who try to convince her father to stop planting genetically modified crops. Injected with a strong sense of humor, All Over Creation is intelligent, well researched, and heart warming.

A Tale for the Time Being

This new book is what prompted me to write about Ruth Ozeki, who I'd all but forgotten about (All Over Creation was published in 2004 and My Year of Meats in 1998). This is the Goodreads description:

A brilliant, unforgettable, and long-awaited novel from bestselling author Ruth Ozeki
“A time being is someone who lives in time, and that means you, and me, and every one of us who is, or was, or ever will be.”

In Tokyo, sixteen-year-old Nao has decided there’s only one escape from her aching loneliness and her classmates’ bullying. But before she ends it all, Nao first plans to document the life of her great grandmother, a Buddhist nun who’s lived more than a century. A diary is Nao’s only solace—and will touch lives in ways she can scarcely imagine.

Across the Pacific, we meet Ruth, a novelist living on a remote island who discovers a collection of artifacts washed ashore in a Hello Kitty lunchbox—possibly debris from the devastating 2011 tsunami. As the mystery of its contents unfolds, Ruth is pulled into the past, into Nao’s drama and her unknown fate, and forward into her own future.

Full of Ozeki’s signature humor and deeply engaged with the relationship between writer and reader, past and present, fact and fiction, quantum physics, history, and myth, A Tale for the Time Being is a brilliantly inventive, beguiling story of our shared humanity and the search for home.  

Here's a video of Ozeki talking about our bullying culture, suicide, Buddhism, and how she came up with the idea for this novel:



Early reviews are excellent. Writing about her first two books makes me want to read them again...I don't reread books often (too many new ones to get to). Stay tuned for a review of A Tale for the Time Being! Ozeki is coming to Portland later in March...I hope to be able to go see/hear her again.

Bruce

Bruce, by Peter Ames Carlin

Somehow, I'm not sure why, I was late to the Bruce Springsteen train. I knew his more popular songs and liked them, but it wasn't until I went to my first Springsteen concert with my teenage son last November that I became a convert.

Peter Ames Carlin, a writer for the Oregonian and author of several musician bios, interviewed Bruce and his colleagues and pored over the albums, articles, and interviews to create this exhaustive (and some say, exhausting) biography. At times Carlin uses sentence fragments, which I'm not crazy about, and he does tend to go on at times...perhaps a more diehard Springsteen fan would have gotten more out of the long stories about various concert tours and people who helped him along the way. It was interesting to read about how Bruce made it big, gradually and with a lot of hard work and a loyal fan base in New Jersey.

Younger Bruce

One reviewer (and local New Jerseyite) wrote about how this book was book-ended by death...starting out with the childhood death of Bruce's aunt, which affected his whole family forevermore, and ending with the death of his beloved friends and bandmates Danny Federici and Clarence Clemons. Reading about Clarence's death (and Bruce bringing his guitar into the hospital room to sing Clarence out during the last 3 hours of his life) brought me to tears, as did the poignant description of how Bruce's dad asked him to sit on his lap one night (as an adult) after a lifetime of conflict and tense silence between the two of them.

With Clarence

I'm still amazed that I'm a Springsteen newbie. He stands for so much of what I believe in. From representing the common American working person to singing a song for the movie "Philadelphia," before most of Hollywood became gay friendly, from engaging with and advocating for Vietnam vets and Amnesty International, to continuing to sing about the underprivileged even after he hit it big, and for showcasing a local charity at each of his concerts...he is a strong voice of social justice.

Carlin's book does not paint him as a perfect man...he can be narcissistic, demanding and selfish. He hurt the members of his band when he cut them off for several years to pursue his solo work. He has exacting standards for everyone who works with him.

With Steve Van Zandt

But he is clearly a musical genius, prolific in his song writing and creative in his musical arrangements, and a true poet of the people.

The one thing the book was lacking was more about his family. Carlin writes about the birth of Bruce and Patti's first son, but doesn't go beyond that. I'm guessing that Bruce asked Carlin to keep his family out of the book...but it would have made this bio much more comprehensive. We hear about his initial relationship with Patti, but in later years not much.

With his family at the Kennedy Center Honors

Now I'm going to go listen to the albums painstakingly described in the book, and they will mean much more to me.

For fun, watch this clip of Bruce yukking it up with Jimmy Fallon, imitating Neil Young, in "I'm Sexy and I Know It."

The Burning

The Burning, by Jane Casey

I read Jane Casey's first novel, The Missing, and was not as nearly taken with it as her second, The Burning, which felt similar to BBC's "Prime Suspect" (with Helen Mirren), but with a young Irish detective named Maeve.

One reason why I didn't like her first novel was that I didn't find her main character, Sarah Finch, to be very likable. She ended up being a teacher after she hated school, and she didn't seem to get any enjoyment out of her job. I cannot relate to this, but my husband tells me that he thinks it sounds British...he thinks that more people in the UK go into teaching without really being called to do so. That might be true.

At any rate, I prefer Maeve. She has to put up with her English colleagues' misogyny and crap about her Irish ancestry, but she is a strong and complex character. She's working on a case to catch a London serial killer who likes to beat his female victims to a pulp and then set their bodies ablaze. It's more of a police procedural (hence the Prime Suspect comparison) than a mystery book, but I liked it.

The other thing I appreciated about this book was the publisher didn't dumb it down for Americans...as in, they didn't change the British terms and language (like they did in Harry Potter, for example). Most Americans will not know what a bacon buttie is...but that's okay! They can look it up if they want to know.

I will keep reading Casey's books (she has three more Maeve Kerrigan books published with another one on the way), and I'm so glad she redeemed herself after the first one.

The Very Thought of You

The Very Thought of You,
by Rosie Alison

Last year Mike and I watched a short British made-for-TV movie called "Good Night, Mister Tom," and I became interested in the history of English children evacuated to the country during World War II...so this book intrigued me.

It's the story, in part, of Anna, an eight-year-old girl who is evacuated from London and sent to a stately home in Yorkshire in 1939. Wise beyond her years, she soon becomes aware of the adult secrets around her. Thomas and Elizabeth Ashton, who have opened up their home, are deeply unhappy with each other. Soon they each start affairs. In the meantime, Anna's mother (whose husband is fighting in Africa) starts up her own affairs in London, for no particular reason except that the war is on. Every adult in this book is unhappy and unfaithful....even Anna herself when she grows up.

Unfortunately, none of the characters are sympathetic with perhaps the exception of Thomas. Anna was more likable as a child, but when she grew up I found myself getting irritated with her choices and the way she let her life fall to ruin. This book, unfortunately, does a great deal of telling rather than showing. In fact there's little dialogue. The writer is a documentary film maker, and in many ways that shows.

I felt this book had promise--the setting in Yorkshire, the time it happened, the idea of children being sent away from home, the war--but I feel let down. I think I will have to read Good Night, Mister Tom (also a book) instead.

Somewhere Inside

Somewhere Inside: One Sister's Captivity in North Korea and the Other's Fight to Bring Her Home,
by Laura Ling and Lisa Ling

This is the first book I've read since my surgery that has really compelled me. Any story about or by sisters always interests me, and this one--about Asia--did in particular.

As you might recall, Laura Ling was captured with her colleague, Euna Lee, and imprisoned in North Korea from March to August 2009. They worked for Current TV (cofounded by Al Gore) and were making a documentary about North Korean defectors who escaped into China, some of whom ended up in forced marriages or sex trafficking. They traveled into China on tourist visas instead of admitting they were journalists because they were not going to be portraying either China or North Korea in glowing terms. They hired a guide to take them to the Chinese-North Korean border, and one morning the guide encouraged them to go onto the frozen river that serves as the boundary between the countries. They followed him, and they came to regret it. Although they went back into China, guards from North Korea pursued them and captured them.

For five months, they were interrogated about their intentions and actions and kept isolated from one another. At the same time, Laura's sister Lisa (who works for Oprah and used to appear on "The View") took advantage of her media and government connections and did everything she could to get her sister out of North Korea. She was in contact with Al Gore, New Mexico Governor Bill Richardson, Oprah Winfrey, the U.S. State Department, and media and entertainment celebrities. At one point, Michael Jackson even offered to perform for Kim Jong Il (if it would help), right before he died so suddenly.

It's clear that Laura Ling had powerful people working for her, trying to get her out. If her sister hadn't used all her connections and if she hadn't been working for Al Gore's company, who knows whether they would have been able get former president Bill Clinton to make a visit to Pyongyang to retrieve her and Euna Lee (who had left a 5-year-old daughter at home in the U.S.).

Clearly, they made an error in judgment by taking the risk to cross into North Korea...whether they were persuaded to take the risk by their guide or not. But that doesn't detract from this story.

I was touched by the very close relationship between the sisters, who are best friends. I cried several times, as I did again when watching the video of Laura Ling's speech as she got off the airplane in Burbank, California. I'm always deeply affected by stories of sisters being separated or reunited.

I also found it touching to read about the relationships she developed with some of her guards, translators, and even her primary interrogator. Even though she was being held in captivity, she was treated well for the most part. Even though the North Koreans felt angry at the United States, most of them did not treat her unkindly.

It's clear, as is mentioned in the epilogue, that many political prisoners do not have the resources Laura Ling and Euna Lee had...working incessantly to free them. But evident in the book, too, is Laura Ling's keen intelligence and political and media savvy. She handled the imprisonment professionally, wisely, and diplomatically, in spite of her own health problems and severe stress.

Here's an extensive Fresh Air interview with the Ling sisters, as well as the trailer of the book:

The Miracle Life of Edgar Mint

The Miracle Life of Edgar Mint, by Brady Udall

When I picked up this book, I wasn't aware that it was by the author of The Lonely Polygamist, which has been on my list for awhile (although my husband tried to read it and couldn't get into it). Brady Udall comes from a political Mormon family, and many of his books have Mormon themes or characters.

This book has taken me, literally, weeks to get through.  I started it back in December before my surgery and put it aside for a bit while recovering because it is quite heavy. This was not an easy read--not only does it take some time to get into (Udall tends to have a meandering writing style) but also because it is so sad. It reminded me a lot of The Power of One, but I liked this one better.

Edgar Mint was born to an Apache mom and a white dad, both of whom abandoned him. When he was seven years old, the mailman ran over his head...he miraculously survived, but his life deteriorated from there. He traverses a series of temporary homes, from a long-term stay in a decrepit hospital and a horrible boarding school for Native Americans to a foster home of kind but dysfunctional Mormons. He has a few people who are looking out for him, but they are all totally screwed up. Edgar finds comfort in typing out his angst every evening on his classic typewriter.

One thing I found really bizarre and a bit offputting was Udall's style of alternating between first person and third person, often in the same paragraph and sometimes even in the same sentence. I guess it was to show how Edgar was trying to distance himself from his own life and experiences...I'm not sure.

Although I found this book to be sad and a bit slow, it is a classic reminder of how desperately children need nurturing, comfort, and wise guidance. I am happy to say that it has an ending of redemption.

Fifty shades of meh

No, I haven't read it and I do not plan to. I'm a book snob. Once I heard it was Twilight fan fiction, I couldn't bear the thought...even though my mother-in-law has read it! (Ten Reasons I Hate Twilight)

This wonderful review on thepessimist.com is all I need!

This fifty-shades-of-gray phenomenon is completely ridiculous, if you ask me:





We love to joke about it at my book group...but no, we are not reading it! One of our book group members has a coworker (a man!) who gave her the book to read.



Really, wearing handcuffs on a necklace?



The writer is British (which, from what I've read, is obvious in the book, as she doesn't know the U.S. very well). I love this line in the review linked above,

"In fact, the book from whence he sprang, steely and sleek with enigmatic man-sweat, is now the best-selling book in British history.  AND THEY INVENTED ENGLISH! (Both the language AND the wimpy accent!)" 

Who are you calling wimpy?

But it's also extremely popular in the U.S., especially New England.


Here's a fun parody.



I ask you, just like I couldn't understand what Bella saw in Edward, why on earth would a woman want a man to "boss her around, treat her like a foolish child, tell her she’s your “property” and basically take her completely and totally for granted"? What is so attractive or sexy about that? I just don't understand!



And I ask you:

Loud in the House of Myself

Loud in the House of Myself: Memoir of a Strange Girl, by Stacy Pershall

I picked this one up at random at the library...I had never heard of Stacy Pershall...little did I know she was an Internet sensation (and not necessarily in a good way).

Pershall grew up in the small town of Prairie Grove, Arkansas, and she never really fit in there. Pershall's mom pours all of her attention on her brother. She refers to her father's anger, but we don't get much detail on that.

Fast forward to adolescence, when she develops anorexia and bulimia, followed by (or concurrent with) bipolar and borderline personality disorder. She becomes highly self-destructive and somehow, amazingly successful given the self-destructive behavior (she lands a job as adjunct professor at the School of Visual Arts after earning her M.A., somehow!).

Each time she seemed to pull her life together, her mental illness struck again. (She even got married for awhile.) As one of the Internet's first "camgirls," Pershall broadcast one of the first online suicide attempts (and only one of many of hers) before shutting down her site. She found comfort by making tattoos of the things that scared or saddened her.

This book shed a lot of light for me on mental illness, particularly bipolar and borderline diseases. I would have liked to have learned more about her childhood and any thoughts she had about what led her to these illnesses. (Was it genetic? Environment?) She seems to have a tenuous relationship with her parents now, but what happened to her brother?

This was a raw, terribly honest memoir about all the mistakes Pershall has made in her life. I'd expect nothing less from someone who bared her soul (and clothing) for the Internet.

Most of the book is about her illness, and only an epilogue provides some closure. She seems to have it together now...but I felt that we were missing something in the journey to success. Maybe there's a Part 2 in progress?

View Stacy's book trailer to get a clearer picture of her.

          

Maisie Dobbs: Cross between Downton Abbey and Sherlock Holmes

Maisie Dobbs, by Jacqueline Winspear

A friend recommended I try out Maisie Dobbs for my post-surgery recovery because I find I lack mental energy when I'm in pain and on pain meds. (My brain just doesn't work right!) After my Joanna Trollope waste of time, I finally dove into Maisie Dobbs. I was beginning to worry that I'd lost my passion for reading from the brain surgery I had, but I'm happy to report that I'm getting back into the swing of things. Maisie Dobbs was just the ticket, although it took a little getting into in the beginning.

Maisie Dobbs is the daughter of a costermonger (a street seller of fruits and vegetables) and after her mother dies, she's taken into service because her dad cannot afford to take care of her. Soon Lady Rowan (lady of the house) takes her on as a project after noting Maisie's keen intelligence. She's tutored by Rowan's friend Maurice, who helps her prepare for Cambridge entrance exams. However, after a year of studying at Cambridge's women's college (in those days they didn't actually bestow degrees on women, but they were allowed to study), she decides her country needs her. She signs up as a nurse and is sent to France. After returning from France, she sets up her own business as a private investigator.

Much of this first book in the series is used to set up the character of Maisie. She takes on a case that requires her to delve into her own sad history in the war and her one true love. The book starts in the present (well, 1929), but then flashes back to her childhood, life in service, and time during the war. I found those pieces the most interesting because I wanted to get to know more about Maisie. Winspear slowly unravels the secrets of Maisie's past and her own tragic life.

Like Downton Abbey, it tackles themes of British class mores and the impact that World War I had on its participants. For example, both the show and the book feature stories about soldiers who deserted in cowardice and were shot.

I'm not sure how realistic this series is...how likely is it for the aristocracy to actually invest in one of their young housemaids to help them better themselves? She seems to fit in well at Cambridge, but all we really see about that part of her life is her close friendship with her roommate. How did she do with her studies? Not sure.

I really enjoyed this novel but it wasn't perfect. I found some details lacking, but I will keep reading in the hopes that it will only improve! I'm curious to learn more about Maisie--she's an interesting character.