Ten on Tuesday (a day late)

I’ve never done one of these Ten on Tuesday questionaires, but when I saw this one on a blog I read, I couldn’t resist…even if I am a day late.

A few of my favorites that I have here with me

1. When someone asks you for a book recommendation, what is your go to book?

The Book Thief by Markus Zusak and/or The Help by Kathryn Stockett are both totally and utterly amazing.  I used to, without hesitation, recommend The Poisonwood Bible by Barbara Kingsolver or The Everlasting Story of Nory by Nicholson Baker.  I still absolutely adore both of those books, but The Book Thief and The Help have replaced my top recommendations.

2. Do you buy your books, or are you a library patron?

Most recently I’ve become a library patron as there are two libraries within walking distance of where I live.  Since Simon’s been born, I consider a walk to the library a big outing — especially because they have a really wonderful baby changing station in their “local loo” (the UK way of saying public restroom!).  If money and space were unlimited, I’d buy all my books — even the ones I just casually thought might be good.  I think a room with wall to wall, floor to ceiling bookcases full of books is dreamy.  I also enjoy going into used bookstores — especially to pick up some books for Simon.

3. E-readers, yay or nay?

When they first came out, I was completely NAY!  Who would ever want to pass on a paper book?  But, I’ve come to see the merit in them.  Since I spend a lot of time sitting in a chair feeding a seemingly-always-hungry baby, I think an e-reader would be very convenient.  Also, I love all the e-reader covers I’ve seen on Etsy!

4. What was your favorite book as a child?

When I was 5, I fell in love with The Velveteen Rabbit through an audio cassette book  that I completely wore out.  At one time I said The Secret Garden was my favorite book, but I never read it and just fell in love with the Hallmark Hall of Fame movie version of it when I was in third grade.  As far as paper books go, I remember absotlutely loving my Cabbage Patch books because of their large size, “silky” pages, and the map that was in the front of each book.

5. If you could be any character in a book, who would you be?

Nory from The Everlasting Story of Nory — because she’s so eccentric and imaginative and special.  Had Simon been a girl, she would have been named Eleanor (after Eleanor Winslow from The Everlasting Story of Nory – and Eleanor Roosevelt and Elinor Dashwood).  I really love Elphaba from Wicked, too, but I don’t think I’d want to be green.

6. What book would you love to see turned into a movie?

The Help by Kathryn Stockett.  I’ve heard rumors that this might be happening! [Edit: My mom told me today that she just saw an advertisement last night on the TV for the movie!  A bit of digging revealed that it's coming to theatres in August!  I'm so excited, yet heartbroken because it opens just days after I leave the US.]

7. What is your all time favorite book?

To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee.  If Simon had been a girl, Harper was the middle name we’d chosen.  We seriously considered Atticus as Simon’s middle name.  That’s how much I love this book.  I have read it 7 times and the first time I read it, it knocked my socks off.  I had stumbled upon it in my junior high school’s library and checked it out.  I was reading it at the beginning of my science research class one day (instead of doing nothing and listening to my teacher drone on about something or other) and Mr. Regan took my book away!  I was distraught because my mom was checking me out of school that day to drive to Atlanta to see my brother who was on military leave and I needed my book.  I was so wrapped up in the story and I needed to know what happened.  In a brave and desperate move, I turned to Mrs. Regan (my science research teacher’s wife and my Biology teacher).  I told her what had happened and she went and got my book back for me!  I remember sitting in my grandmother’s living room and literarlly not being able to put the book down.  When I finished it,  my mom told me there was a movie and she’d rent it for me when we got home.  I felt like I had won the lottery.  It was an absolute privilege to teach the book years later to five years worth of freshmen.  And, it was so much fun to introduce CK to the movie. 

8. How many books do you read at once?

One.

9. What is your favorite book genre?

I suppose if I could only read one genre for the rest of my life, it’d be fiction.  But, I love memoirs and personal essays (An American Childhood by Annie Dillard, The Year of Magical Thinking by Joan Didion,  and Bill Bryson books are among my all time favorites).

10. Which Harry Potter book is the best?  Or haven’t you read them at all?

I haven’t read them…and I’ve only seen two of the movies.  I’m not a fan.  Though, I walked myself ragged at 38 weeks pregnant all around London in the cold and relentless rain to go on a Harry Potter movie tour (definitely not my idea!).  The tour (and the enthusiastic tour guide) put me in the mood to watch all the movies…and the thought of beginning to read the books crossed my mind.  But, I returned home and six days later had a baby, so that never happened.

 

In Which I Tell You A Bit About Books

My dear boy,

The very first thing I ever bought for you was a book, and your dad and I didn’t even know when you’d exist!  It was long before I got pregnant with you.  In fact, it was shortly after we moved to England, some time around November in 2008.  We were walking home one day and passed by a used bookstore, so naturally, we went in.  (One thing your dad and I never get tired of is going to bookstores, and used bookstores are even more fun because the stock is always changing!  We can’t wait for you to join us on our bookstore adventures!)

We both ended up selecting books from the children’s section – this isn’t out of the ordinary for me because the children’s section is always my favorite part of bookstores, but your dad usually likes the nonfiction sections, especially anything related to economics!  I picked Winnie the Pooh with the original illustrations by EH Shepard and your dad picked Watership Down (whose author, coincidentally, was born in Berkshire, the very county in England that we were living in and that you’ll be born in; the author also spent some time as writer in residence at the University of Florida, where your dad got his PhD).  We got the books for 50 p each as the store was closing down and all the books were on sale.

Well, your dad and I began reading Winnie the Pooh to each other at bedtime.  It didn’t take long, though, for me to pass when it came my turn to read a chapter.  I thought your dad read so beautifully: I loved how he called out “Hallo,” how he changed his voice to be sad like Eeroye, and how he had a special voice for Piglet.  We both fell in love with the book and I realized then that we were going to pass this book down to our child – you!.  I daydreamed about you and reading this book aloud to you.   We’re going to read you Winnie the Pooh one day.  We’ll take turns reading it to you and it’ll be ok if you’d rather your dad read – because afterall, he reads it so well!  I know!  You’ve still got three weeks to go until your due date is here and your dad will lay down with his head on my belly and call out, “Hallo, Baby,” just like the characters call out, “Hallo, Pooh.”  I love it.

So, the Winnie the Pooh book was your first official book in your library, but since we learned I was pregnant with you, your library has grown and grown!  We can’t wait to read to you.  Both your dad and I have actually already been reading to you, but I can’t wait to hold you in my arms and read to you.  I can’t wait to watch you grow and become more and more interested in books, and stories, and pictures.  I can’t wait to see you hold a book with your own two hands.  And, I can’t wait for you to pick out books to have us read them to you!

We can’t wait to see what books will become your favorites.  Your dad’s favorite book when he was a little boy was Harold and the Purple Crayon.  We made sure we got you your own copy of that book and I know your dad can’t wait to share that book with you.  I remember loving two books above all others when I was a little girl: your grandma gave me a copy of The Owl and the Pussy Cat when I was five and had the chicken pox which I loved and your grandpa gave me my first copy of The Velveteen Rabbit when I was also five (though it was a book on tape).  We hope you love to read and you’ll treasure your books just like we do.

We can’t wait for you to pick out your first book on your own.  We can’t wait to see what interests you’ll have and how they will guide what books become your favorites.  We can’t wait for you to come to us all excited about a book you’ve just read and loved!  We can’t wait to read books together as a family.

Love,

Mama

 

The Elephant Vanishes: Salois Siblings & Spouses Book Club

First, the back story.

When I married Matt, I inherited three brothers-in-law and two sisters-in-law and while I knew some things about each of them, I didn’t really know anything substantial.   I knew a bunch of little facts: dietary preferences (one hates onions, one hates cheese, one’s a vegetarian), pet preferences (dogs), television show preferences (an entire family of LOST fans), college majors (a bunch of science involved), favorite movies (Dodge Ball, Harry Potter).  All of a sudden, I had all these in-laws but I felt I didn’t know them very well (nor did they know me very well).  It didn’t help that we moved across the Atlantic within months of our marriage.

So, in an effort to be more intentional about getting to know them, I did something pretty risky back in August: I proposed forming a book club.  While I was sure we didn’t share many common interests and I was unsure of how much everyone enjoyed reading, I went ahead and invited my relatively new extended family to join me for a year of reading and discussion.  The idea was for each of us to pick a book that was significant and pass it in alphabetical order every two months.  As there are 7 of us, that’d mean we’d all read 6 new books, and hopefully discuss them, in a year’s time (and have 2 months to read each one).  Everyone agreed, the books were passed on Christmas, and that is how I came to read Haruki Murakami’s The Elephant Vanishes.

Now, the book review; brace yourself, it’s a long one (but anyone who knows me would expect nothing less).

I suppose I should begin with a few positives and quotes I liked:

• An interesting point: Noboru Watanabe is a reoccurring character – sometimes man, sometimes cat.  If I’m correct, he appeared in three separate stories, though I don’t think he’s meant to be the same person.  He’s the cat in the first story (which is the first chapter of a The Wind Up Bird Chronicles – named so after the narrator’s brother-in-law), the fiancé of the narrator’s sister in “Family Affair,” and the elephant keeper in “The Elephant Vanishes.”
• If birds in flight go unburdened by names, let my memories be free of dates. (p 219)
• Memory is like fiction, or else it’s fiction that’s like memory…no matter how hard you try to put everything neatly into shape, the context wanders this way and that, until finally the context isn’t even there anymore. (p 269)
• What a wonderful thing it is to find and be found by your 100% perfect other.  It’s a miracle. (p. 71)
• I can scratch Murakami off my list of authors to read (a bit over rated!).

Oh, my.  It was a difficult 327 pages to get through and I took a break half way through to read Conversations With Flannery O’Connor and part of Flannery O’Connor’s Mystery & Manners. It was actually this extra reading on/by Flannery O’Connor (one of my favorites) that has helped me formulate my opinions and thoughts of Murakami’s collection of short stories.  Much like how I expected my students to explain why they didn’t like a piece they had to read for class (It’s boring, It’s weird, and It’s not what I usually read would never fly), I really wrestled with why I did not like this book.

In an essay entitled “Total Effect and the Eighth Grade,” O’Connor mentions how there always seems to be news of parents complaining about what their children are reading in school based on their objections to profanity or erotic details.   She argues that the literature in question must fall within the limits of “’total effect,’ that principle followed in legal cases by which a book is judged not for isolated parts but by the final effect of the whole book upon the general reader.”  Does the work attempt to convey an earnest message?  I struggled with this while reading The Elephant Vanishes.  Many of the stories have erotic details that I find offensive: sex is directly mentioned or implied in several stories and even in the story “Family Affair” about a brother and sister, masturbation is mentioned several times.

Here’s where the issue of total effect comes in to play – and I am using it to refer to the total effect a piece of writing has on me, the reader, and not just isolated bits.  Over the summer, I read The Time Traveler’s Wife.  While TTW is not an amazing piece of literature, I truly enjoyed the book – the story was engaging, I liked the characters, the book relied upon the reader’s suspension of reality, and there were a few sex scenes and the tossing around of the f-word.  I hated those parts of the book – I thought they were unnecessary (except for the final sex scene before Henry dies) and I thought they added absolutely nothing to the book.  However, the total effect of The Time Traveler’s Wife was more than the sum of the f-word and sex scenes.  Likewise, when I read Wicked, any inappropriateness I found in the book was easily overlooked (though I wouldn’t want my teenage child reading it) because it was obvious that the work was trying to convey a greater, earnest message.  I didn’t get that with The Elephant Vanishes.  The preoccupation with sex aside, I did not find one character who I cared about.  The total effect of the stories left me feeling a little perverse – even if the erotic detail was just suggested; it ruined the story for me.  For instance, in a story I mostly liked, “A Window,” the narrator muses at the very end, “Should I have slept with her?  That’s the central question of this piece.”  Why should this be the central question of the piece?

I am reminded of a verse in Philippians, “Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable – if anything is excellent or praiseworthy – think about such things” (4:8).  The music that I listen to, the art that I look at, the books that I read, the movies and television that I watch – all of this art I want to be true, noble, right, pure, lovely, admirable, excellent, and praiseworthy.  And I am certainly not suggesting that the only art worth enjoying is that which is labeled Christian – nothing could be further from the truth.  So much of what the church labels as Christian art falls short of being pure and lovely (for instance, Thomas Kincaid).  I am suggesting though, that I want the art (be it music or writing) that I admire to be lovely and noble and right and admirable – something of lasting beauty, that tries to convey an earnest message – and I just didn’t get that feeling while reading The Elephant Vanishes.  And, I’m not left with that now several days after finishing the book.

O’Connor writes in another essay of hers entitled “Novelist and Believer” that a fiction writer “always has to create a world and a believable one.”  I couldn’t agree more!  I realize that not everyone might agree with this view and O’Connor even acknowledges that for one writer to talk about writing is like inviting one animal, such as a giraffe, to talk about the zoo.  Obviously, the giraffe’s view of and experience in a zoo will be much different from that of a baboon.  But, I need to believe the world I’m reading about – I am not saying that I need for it to be plausible.  Two other books I mentioned earlier, Wicked and The Time Traveler’s Wife, cannot be described as plausible and definitely required the suspension of belief.  However, I believed both of the worlds created for me by their authors.  Murakami’s writing was just plain unbelievable.   It was obvious that Murakami both admires and has been influenced by Kafka and García Marquez (alluding to the former in one of his novel’s titles and mentioning the latter in a couple of the short stories), but he fails in doing what the other two do so beautifully: creating a world, and a believable one.  When I read Kafka, I don’t question that Gregor is a “monstrous vermin” or that there really is such a thing as a Hunger Artist who fasts because he’s good at it.  When I read García Marquez, I don’t question that the handsomest drowned man in the world washed up on the shore or that a very old man with enormous wings fell from the sky.  But, I do question, and cannot enjoy, Murakami’s stories – with the exception of “On Seeing the 100% Perfect Girl One Beautiful April Morning” and “The Elephant Vanishes.”  (To be fair, “Slow Boat to China” and “Silence” aren’t bad, but they’re just not good.)

What, then, about the argument that his stories are supposed to be unbelievable – that they’ve been written in such a way to suggest a greater, metaphorical meaning?  I have an issue here as well.  Take for example his story “Sleep” – about a woman who has not slept in 17 days and who has grown bored with her life as wife and mother.  Is it just another story about a woman’s flight from (or desire to flee) domesticity?  What about the story “The Second Bakery Attack”?  Surely the reader is to assume the young husband’s and wife’s hunger is for something other than food or Big Macs, right?  Or, maybe not.  Overall, I found the collection of short stories tedious, lacking, and pointless.  I guess it comes down to my preference to read others who have written better, more lovely, things.  If I want magical realism, I can read García Marquez (who has written some very beautiful, “strange” stories):

On the third day of rain they had killed so many crabs inside the house that Pelayo had to cross his drenched courtyard and throw them into the sea, because the newborn child had a temperature all night and they thought it was due to the stench. The world had been sad since Tuesday. Sea and sky were a single ash-gray thing and the sands of the beach, which on March nights glimmered like powdered light, had become a stew of mud and rotten shellfish. The light was so weak at noon that when Pelayo was coming back to the house after throwing away the crabs, it was hard for him to see what it was that was moving and groaning in the rear of the courtyard. He had to go very close to see that it was an old man, a very old man, lying face down in the mud, who, in spite of his tremendous efforts, couldn’t get up, impeded by his enormous wings. (from “A Very Old Man With Enormous Wings” by Gabriel Garcia Marquez)

So, I didn’t like the first book I had to read for the Salois Sibling & Spouse Book Club.  I’ve lamented over not liking it and have dragged my feet in composing my thoughts into this post because I’ve felt a bit like a failure, and I haven’t wanted to hurt anyone’s feelings.  I wanted to like everyone’s book.  I’ve wanted this little thing to be a big success and because I didn’t like the first book, I’ve felt like it’s failed.  But, my sweet husband reminded me, “The point was not to aspire to like the same seven books. The point was to get to know each other a bit more, to gain a bit of understanding about each other’s tastes and opinions, and to start a conversation.”  He summed it up beautifully.  Hopefully, I have shared a bit of myself – helping my in-laws to know a bit more about me.  I, in turn, look forward to hearing their thoughts about The Elephant Vanishes.

 

On how I’ve come to love audio books.

For a brief moment in time, I was in charge of a book club.  It was a strange little book club that never really got off the ground, but I was in charge of it – part of my duties as manager of Mad Hatter Tea & Gifts, where I worked my first year out of college.  (Manager sure sounds impressive, doesn’t it?  Don’t be fooled.  I was more or less manager by default: I was the only one of the four of us who worked full time.)  We didn’t read any classics (much to my dismay) and I think it was in this book club that I read my first modern fiction – ever.  Seriously.  (For the first 22 years of my life, I read only classics.  Further, 95% of the books I read were assigned.)  So, in 2001, the year of my book club, I remember reading The Red Tent and The Girl with the Pearl Earring (both books I didn’t care much for no doubt because they weren’t classics – yes, I have been a book snob in my past).

One of the book club’s members was the owner’s best friend, Suzanne.  [As an aside, Suzanne's mom, Susan, was one of the part timers I managed at Mad Hatter.  At over 65, Susan became my best friend in Melbourne that first year I was out of college.  We took a road trip to Miami together, went out for Cuban food regularly, saw George Clooney movies together, and ordered a pizza (and ate the whole thing) while we watched the series finale of Felicity together.]  Anyway, Suzanne didn’t have time to read, but she still wanted to be a part of the book club and so she “read” her books in the car to and from work thanks to audio books.  I was horrified – she wasn’t really reading these books, was she?  Listening wasn’t an acceptable substitution for reading!  You couldn’t make notes in the margins!  You couldn’t slap a Post-It on the page of a favorite passage!  I also hated how Suzanne would actually talk about reading the book.  Like, she used the words read and reading!

The point it: I did not look favorably on audio books.  Until recently…

Life as a library shelver is boring when there aren’t students around using the books.  I mean, it’s really boring.  Students don’t start until the first week of October, so it’s going to be boring for a little while longer.  And, I’m a good worker!  I really am.  I actively look for work to do.  I ask people.  I go to different floors and beg for jobs – silly and menial jobs.  I ask my “floor manager” for work and he always responds the same: he chuckles and walks away from me.  It’s weird, really – the lack of initiative that others take.  If another shelver runs out of books to shelve, she just sits on a kick stool and reads a book.  Or, stands in the 330s and talks to another shelver.  Me?  Well, I find something else to do.  I relabel books (I love doing this), I tape up tatty book spines, I straighten books and straighten signs.  I work.  And most recently, I’ve been working with my iPod in my pocket.

No one has ever told me not to listen to my iPod whilst working.  My good common sense tells me it’s not a good idea, but I still manage to ask people who I see wandering around looking for the folios if I can help them.  So, it’s not hindering my customer service.  I also decided that should I ever get “caught” by my line manager and reprimanded – or just gently told to put my iPod away – I plan on pleading ignorance AND casually replying with, “Oh, I know I shouldn’t listen to my iPod, but I just had to find out what happened next on this audio book I’m listening to.”

And so, I have “read” two books whilst working this month: Robinson Crusoe and The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn.   Yesterday, I began my third book, Neil Gaiman’s The Graveyard Book.  And I’ve come to love audio books and I’m sorry that I ever looked down on Suzanne all those years ago.

After my first day listening to Robinson Crusoe, I met Clark Kent at the library’s revolving door and we walked home together.  ”Do you know what Robinson Crusoe is about?”  I asked him fully expecting him to shrug his shoulders.  But, he knew.  I guess I’m the only one who didn’t really know it was about a shipwrecked man.  THE ENTIRE BOOK.   8.5 hours of goat hunting and cave building!  I persevered and I liked the narrator very much and grew very excited during the last 30 minutes of the book – when he finally gets off of the island after (I think) 28 years (or something like that).   I expected greatness.  Afterall, RC is a classic, right?  Oh well, it’s another notch in my Book List (because YES I am counting it as a book I read!).

But then there came The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn (narrated by Marc Devine – a free podcast on iTunes and SO worth it!).  Oh, my!  What a gem!  This version was 9.5 hours of sheer delight!  I absolutely fell in love with Huck!  Having been to Hannibal, MO two summers ago, it was fun for me to “read” a Mark Twain book and be able to really picture the landscape.  I can’t say much else about it other than I absolutely LOVED listening/reading this classic!  And, I am definitely a Huck over Tom fan.  Tom Sawyer gets on my last nerve!

I tried to find a version of The Adventures of Tom Sawyer with a narrator that I loved as much as Marc Devine – but just couldn’t.  I eventually gave up and just tried to find another book that I probably wouldn’t have chosen to read on my own, but maybe could get behind listening to.  After nearly two weeks of searching iTunes and audible.com (where I had a free book to download), I chose Neil Gaiman’s The Graveyard Book.  I just started it yesterday and am thoroughly entranced!  I have already thought several times that as soon as I’m finishing “reading” the book, it’s one I might actually want to read!

And so, 8 years later, I love audio books.

 

13 Months & and a lady detective

I always thought it was silly for parents to talk about their kids’ ages in months after said kids reached their first birthdays. But, here I am, still thinking about my marriage in terms of months even though we had our first anniversary.  And so, I will allow myself to continuing counting the months until next July just as parents count the months until the kid is twenty-four months.

Today we’re been married for thirteen months!  A whole year and a month.  When I really think about it, I know thirteen months is silly – it’s a drop in the bucket, so to speak, especially when I consider how two very dear friends of mine celebrate their tenth anniversary in just a few days.  Ten years?  Now that is something.  Ten years ago, I stood  as a twenty year old in a light purple dress and the most beautiful (and expensive) shoes I have ever bought hoping I wouldn’t fidget or get light headed, and watched as my dear friends said, “I do.”  They were twenty-two, just two years my senior, but I thought they were so old and wise and as it was the first wedding I had ever been in (I do not count the obligatory flower girl in my aunt’s wedding when I was 7) and the first wedding of someone truly important to me, I tried to imagine what it would be like for me when my turn came.

But, of course, the wedding was just a day.  It was a great day, but it was just one day.  The marriage has been great and I think that is part of the excitement I feel each month when the nineteenth rolls around.  Just as a new mother marks each month of her new baby’s life with excitement and wonder of what new milestones are being reached, as a new bride, I live for the nineteenth of each month – to mark each month with excitement and wonder of what marriage has been – being in this life with my best friend and being known by someone so incredibly well.  It’s exciting to keep adding a month under our marriage belts and I think it will be sad once month twenty-four rolls around and I have to shift into simply counting years.  I bet the same is true for that mother whose kid turns two and then it’s no longer twenty-five or thirty-two months, but just years.

One of the greatest aspects of marriage for me during these last thirteen months has been being known and how quickly it’s happened.  In December, Linda and Matt were in Pound£and (yes, where everything is a pound) and looking at Winnie the Pooh socks for me.  Linda would’ve (rightly) chosen the pink Pooh socks with polka dots, but I unwrapped the “jailhouse” Pooh socks (black and white stripes, you guys!) from Matt on Christmas.  We had  been married just five months that Christmas when Matt picked the socks that weren’t my first choice and while I tease him every time I wear those jailhouse socks, I still love that he got them for me; he had his reasons and he chose them because he had already gotten me a pair of pink Piglet socks and didn’t want to duplicate the colors.  I have since informed him that I can never have too many pink pairs of socks and he understands.  And, he understood enough about me to secretly squirrel enough money away (I am pretty tight with the purse strings) to have enough to secretly go into town when I thought he was in a meeting with his boss.  There he went to the expensive card store and chose THE perfect first anniversary card (a Forever Friends card that was relationship AND occasion specific!) for me!  He also secretly got me a picture frame (as I love picture frames) and my favorite chocolate bars.  He knows me and being known feels great.  He knows that my blog and flickr site are important to me and reads every word I write (which means more than I could ever express).  He knows the look I get on my face when I’m reading a SouleMama blog entry and will ask me what’s new – and he’ll listen and remember!  He asks about what I’m reading and seems genuinely interested in my too-long plot summaries.  And so, those jailhouse socks are a symbol to me – a symbol of how far we have both come in a short thirteen months and it is exciting to think about where we’ll be in thirteen years.

Now, I will quickly tell you about the latest book I’ve read: Alexander McCall Smith’s The No. 1 Ladies’ Detective Agency.  I remember seeing this book for sale in Barnes and Noble and in Target.  It never piqued my interest and I never even wanted to read the back of the book to see what it was all about.  It was chosen for the English Teachers’ Book Club when I taught at Palm Bay High (though I was pretty much one of the most anti-social teachers at PBHS and never went to one book club meeting) and I never picked this book up until the day before we left for Paris, August 4, 2009.  I knew I would finish A Thousand Splendid Suns whilst in Paris and I didn’t want to be stuck on a 7 hour bus ride with nothing to read.  Since I work in a library, I thought I’d be able to find something good to read as my back up book BUT the university library is sorely lacking in good, modern fiction books.  I mean, SORELY!  (Though there are two of the Harry Potter books in CHINESE! on the shelves.)  There was The Other Boleyn Girl, but I just couldn’t bring myself to check it out (for two reasons: the spine was seriously crooked and it was a bit too long to be my easy back up read).  When I came to the P section, I seriously considered a Terry Prachett book, but I kept moving toward the end of the alphabet and found Smith’s book.  At an easy 233 pages, I thought it was worth a try.  Plus, it was set in Africa and that excited me.

I didn’t know what to think of the book at first.  In fact, I was actually thinking that I didn’t like it when I mentioned it to one of my colleagues (we have THE SAME taste in books and find we’re always reading the same books).  Her face lit up and I found out that she loves the series.  The series?  I had no idea there was more than one Ladies’ Detective Agency books and learned through my conversation with this colleague that there are ten books AND a television mini series.  And so I decided to reserve judgment since S liked them so much.

I’m glad I continued reading with an open mind as I turned out to really enjoy the book.  I enjoyed it largely because of its African setting – the people and customs are just fun.  And, fat, thirty-five year old, unassuming, private detective Precious Ramostwe is so likable and lovable.  Our library doesn’t have any other books in the series, otherwise I’d probably check out a couple more, though I probably wouldn’t read all the other nine.  It was enjoyable and I liked the short, staccato-like sentences and story-telling.

 

Not The Kite Runner

The weekend before we left for Paris, Matt and I walked into town to go to the library.  We were looking for a simple Paris guide book and I was either going to check out Possession or The Kite Runner.  Fortunately, we got the last Paris guide book on the shelf and then I went off to the fiction department to see if I could find one or both of the books.  I ultimately passed on Possession because the copy on the shelf was very “tatty” (a term I have learnt since arriving in the UK) and not only was the library fresh out of copies of The Kite Runner, there was a long reservations “queue” for their various copies.  

 

We left the Reading Central Library and headed to Oxfam.

 

Oxfam didn’t have The Kite Runner, but there were two copies of A Thousand Splendid Suns (both by Khaled Hosseini).  I had seen the book on amazon and it was on Richard and Judy’s book list (from what I have gathered, R&J host a morning show and recommend books from time to time – kind of like Oprah, but WAY less annoying).  To be honest, I didn’t really ever want to read The Kite Runner.  But, it was just one of those books that kept appearing on EVERYONE’S list on facebook, on amazon, etc.  I actually thought it was too trendy.  I hate following the crowd and wouldn’t touch an Oprah book if you paid me!  [I just read through all the past Oprah picks in fear that I would find several on the list that I have read and loved.  I have only read five books out of all the past 13 years!!  Can you believe she's had that book club since 1996?  Four of the books I read because I had to: Sula, The Sound and the Fury, Light in August, and As I Lay Dying (all in college).  I only chose to read The Poisonwood Bible (but, I would like to state for the record, 8 years after she picked it!).]  Anyway, I just didn’t want to read The Kite Runner and I was kind of relieved when I couldn’t find it at the library or Oxfam.  I thought his follow-up A Thousand Splendid Suns would be good enough, if not better simply because it wasn’t The Kite Runner.  Same author, same Afghanistan, same thing – only better.

 

All in all, I liked it very much.  I hated the male character, Rasheed, but I think, especially as a woman, I was supposed to.  I loved the story alternating between the two central women, Mariam and Laila.  I loved not being able to guess what was going to happen; even in the parts where I partially guessed parts of the plot, I was always surprised by the whole story.  I loved not knowing anything about Afghanistan, its history, its people.  Though a work of fiction, I finished A Thousand Splendid Suns with a bit more understanding of the history of Afghanistan (the Soviet rule, the rise of the Taliban, the role of the burqa).   In the postscript included in my copy of the book, Hosseini explains, “A Thousand Splendid Suns is very, very dear to me.  It has been a labor of love, and I hope that it doesn’t sound too pretentious if I say that I think of it as my modest tribute to the great courage, endurance, and resilience of Afghanistan.  I hope that I will engage you, that I will transport you and that the novel will move you and leave you with some sense of compassion and empathy for Afghan women whose suffering has been matched by very few groups in recent world history.”  This reader was engaged and transported and moved and left with some sense of compassion and empathy for Afghan women who she had absolutely no understanding of before having read this book. 

 

I have since began reading a work of non-fiction by Asne Seierstad called The Bookseller of Kabul.  I enjoyed finding out a bit about Afghanistan and so when I came across this book whilst shelving last week, I thought it might be a good follow-up to A Thousand Splendid Suns.  I’m not sure if I’m going to ever get around to reading The Kite Runner (in fact, I was delighted when I brought up A Thousand Splendid Suns to my kindred-spirit-in-choosing-books colleague and discovered that she too chose it over The Kite Runner); for now, I’m content with my choice.  I’m content that I chose to read a book in which the subject was completely foreign and didn’t interest me.  I’m content that I finished the book with a deeper understanding and compassion for another country and its women and culture.  I would recommend A Thousand Splendid Suns.

 

Two more down and twenty-four to go

The following are not the best reviews of these two amazing books, but I am spending today preparing for our Parisian Vacation which begins in less than 24 hours!!  And so I recommend the following books (very highly) with reviews that do neither of these books justice:

 

The Book Thief by Markus Zusak was absolutely brilliant.  I cannot say enough good things about this book.  Absolutely beautiful in every way.  The story is beautiful: set in Nazi Germany, a little girl in foster care learns to read and steals books.  You can imagine the heartache all around her – it is set in Nazi Germany, after all.  The writing is beautiful: the book drips with figurative language yet it is not exhausting.  It is absolutely beautiful and charming and I wish I could think like Zusak writes – that I could see the world, my every day and ordinary life, in the beautiful way that he writes.  The characters are beautiful: every one of them – even the loud mouthed and crass foster mother, Rosa.  I loved ALL of the characters, and besides the heroine, I think the mayor’s wife might be my favorite.  Even the nasty characters – the head of the thieves and the head of the Hitler Youth – are so well written.  The narrator is beautiful: Death is personified and I love it…so much!  I love how Death, practically living and breathing, tells this story.  He is clever and feeling and funny and insightful and I love him.  If The Book Thief were ever made into a movie, I would hope Tom Hanks would be cast as Death.  We wouldn’t ever see him, but we would hear him.  And I think the voice of Tom Hanks would be the perfect voice of Death.  The book is beautiful.  Trust me and read it.  

 

The Creative Family by Amanda Blake Soule is absolutely fabulous.  Fabulous!  Amanda Blake Soule embodies what motherhood, and parenthood in general, looks like to me.  I also can’t say enough good things about this book.  If you are creative, if you want to be creative, if you’re a parent, or if you want to be a parent someday, you should read this book.  It, too, is beautiful!  The pictures, the projects, the suggestions, the sentiments – all are so beautiful!

 

The Time Traveler’s Wife

Saturday was one of those lazy days with bacon and eggs in bed and hours on the couch reading and French bread, brie, apples, and grapes for dinner and cheesecake and tea before bed.  It was a glorious day even though most of the morning was spent with swollen eyes and a stuffy nose and a bright red face and a splotchy neck as I unsuccessfully tried to stifle my sobs during the last 50 pages or so of The Time Traveler’s Wife.  Sweet Clark Kent came running into our room when he heard me and sat gingerly on the bed next to me, stroking my hair, and waiting for me to tell him the ending.   The book was sad and gut-wrenching and felt much more keenly because I am married now.  I am a wife and I could deeply sympathize with Clare, even though my Clark does not (thank God!) time travel.

 

A few years ago, I refused to see P.S. I Love You (which I still will not watch).  I read the book a couple years before the movie came out, and before CK, as I got it free when I worked at Barnes and Noble so I knew the plot.  There was no way that I was going to put myself through watching the movie which came out the first Christmas Clark Kent and I were together.  You see, once I began a relationship with Clark Kent, those sad stories of love and loss and death, in youth or old age, suddenly meant something much more than they had before.  That first Easter we were together, CK bought me Joan Didion’s The Year of Magical Thinking and even though I knew I probably shouldn’t, I cried myself through that book and was left with swollen eyes, a stuffy nose, a bright red face, and a splotchy neck.  (Didion’s book was about the year of grief after her husband’s death.  An absolutely beautiful book that I will reread again when it comes out of Uncle Bob’s, but one that wrecked me.)  So, since I began dating CK, got engaged, and now am married to him, books and movies with marriage just mean more – which is why The Time Traveler’s Wife wrecked me, too.  

 

I thought the book was beautiful and brilliant.  It’s definitely one of those books that I need to reread and in doing so, I’m sure a lot of things will become clearer.  I decided to abandon myself to simply reading through the book without asking questions and I resolved to suspend any disbelief.  Naturally, I think this helped me enjoy the book much more than I would have if I stopped to puzzle something out every time something strange happened or seemed unbelievable.  The first person narration did not bother me at all – which surprised me greatly having despised it in Me and Mr. Darcy.  There is just the right amount of figurative language and it’s beautiful.  And, the literary allusions?!  I love them all!  Love them.

 

My one criticism of the book is the sexual content.  Where it didn’t really bother me at all in Wicked, it did bother me in this one.  The novel was just so beautifully written that every time there was a sex scene, the language just seemed all the more crass.  I would be much happier with the book if the sex scenes were more suggestive than detailed – and definitely without the language.  That said, I’m not suggesting that there was an overwhelming presence of sexual content.  There was not.  But, there was enough of it to seem out of place to me.  And, like with Wicked, it definitely isn’t significant enough to poison the book for me.  Not at all.  

 

Even though it’ll set us back £14, I want to be there on opening day to see The Time Traveler’s Wife.  CK will be next to me and I will hold his hand and be so thankful that he is not a time traveler.   It’s a good book.

 

Defending Food

A friend of Clark Kent’s sent him a copy of Michael Pollan’s The Omnivore’s Dilemma a year or so ago.  He read it during his trip to the US at Easter and loved it.  So much of what was found in the book resonated with CK’s work research and personal interests and he wanted me to read it, too.  I was going to.  I really was.  But when I finished my book last week and needed something else to read as my amazon box had not yet arrived, it was so much easier to pick the 200 page Pollan book over the 400 page Pollan book.  And so, I read In Defence of Food.  (It came from a UK bookstore, therefore it’s spelled with a C.)

 

The odds were stacked against me when it came to reading this book: I found part 1 to be a bit boring (though I hate to use the word boring to describe something), I didn’t understand all of the content (nor would I be able to remember it all), and my amazon books arrived yesterday.  Yesterday morning I thought about putting In Defence of Food back on the bookshelf.  I was just shy of being half way through, though, and thought MAYBE I could plow through it and finish it by today.  And so, I did.

 

Even though I might not have understood every sentence in his book, I know I have finished the book with a pretty good understanding of the general idea Pollan wants to communicate, and which he asserts in the first sentence of his book: Eat food.  Not too much.  Mostly plants. 

 

So, the following is what I got from the book:

The first two thirds of the book were what I found, at times, boring or “over my head.”  It’s here where Pollan presents lots of the scientific research that’s been done in the last thirty years which has given birth to the monster of “nutritionism” (which he quickly points out is not a science, but an idea because of the -ism suffix).  The nutritionism that seems to define America’s diet (both in terms of attitude and food choice) is a joke.  Pollan is trying to get his readers to see how fruitless it is (and often times counterintuitive to one’s health) to follow nutritionism: for instance, the fads of low-fat or whole grains or Omega-3s or choosing margarine instead of butter or any of the other health claims that come up in the news or on Oprah.  He asserts that Americans are the ones who are the most driven by nutritionism – we are the ones who fall into the traps of fads and the latest scientific research.  He wants us to forget about striving to eat low-fat or to eat our whole grains and Omega-3s and instead, simply eat food.  Not too much.  Mostly plants.

 

The last third of the book was most interesting and applicable.  Pollan isn’t interested in telling his readers what to buy at the supermarket or what to eat.  He does, however, provide a few things to think about which he hopes will help us to simply eat food.  Not too much.  Mostly plants.  I’m not going to go over all the recommendations he offers (if you’re interested, you really should read his book just for this part), but I will tell you that reading it has really changed my outlook.  

 

Well, it hasn’t necessarily changed my outlook so much as it has convinced me to change – to commit to change.   I have never gone on a diet nor will I ever diet – but I will be the first to admit that I’d love to be healthier (and not just so that I could fit into a smaller size).  I thought about doing Weight Watchers for about five minutes once when I was in college (which is absurd because I was a good twenty-five pounds lighter in college and certainly didn’t need to go on a diet).  Instead, I have always thought there must be a better way not only to maintain a healthy weight but to just be healthy.  Pollan presents this better way.  As I just mentioned, his book has convinced me to commit to change.  His suggestions make it almost easy.  It’s almost ridiculous if you choose NOT to follow his recommendations after reading his book.  It’s been easy to make the jump in certain things: for instance, it’s a no brainer to choose grass-fed cattle now or to choose free-range and forest-foraging hen eggs.  We’ve been doing that since CK finished The Omnivore’s Dilemma.  But there are other things that I wasn’t prepared to commit to: like giving up McDonald’s (not forever in some kind of holier than thou way, but just choosing not to go even though it’s easy and cheap and, tasty) or processed foods in general.  One of the last times I made macaroni and cheese I thought, “You know?  This is really kind of gross [both the powder packet and the Velveeta packet] and I wouldn’t ever want to feed this to my child.  So, when should I stop eating it?”  I decided that as soon as we went through the last box, we wouldn’t ever buy it (or ask for it to be sent to us as long as we’re here) again.  But there are other processed foods that we buy – and as Pollan points out, SO much of the “food” found in supermarkets today is processed, and most of it is highly processed (one of his recommendations about choosing real food is to see how many ingredients are on the label – be wary of more than 5).  Even low-fat, supposedly better for you, foods can be highly processed.  Lots of the low-fat dairy products, including milk, have other ingredients added to them in order to preserve a palatable appearance and texture.  Why not just choose the whole food – the full fat, pure version of the dairy product and consume less of it?

 

Not only does Pollan defend food in his book, which he admits to being pretty absurd – why should one have to defend food?  But, with so many food imposters out there and the ever present voice of nutritionism, it has become necessary – he also takes on the task of defending the meal.  Americans spend less time eating (both in preparing the food, eating the food together, and cleaning up) and less money (in terms of their income) than any other industrialized nation.  A better step toward a healthier America is to eat food – and to eat it together.  In the context of a meal.  Not just sitting around the table, everyone in the family eating different things, for the time it takes to consume the food.  But a real meal.  Pollan’s suggestions, if followed, will definitely lead me to a healthier, more intentional life – one that I would be more proud of.  One that I would like to provide for our children one day.

 

I have merely scratched the surface.  I haven’t expressed all that I wanted to.  It was a good book, I’m glad I read, and if you’re at all interested in taking a few steps toward being more educated AND healthier, you should read the book, too.

 

Me and Mr Darcy = complete “rubbish”

This weekend, after church and before our weekly McDonald’s lunch (and 54 p ice cream cones!), Clark Kent and I went searching for The Time Traveler’s Wife.  I’m still waiting for Away We Go and UP! to come to a theatre near me, and so I often check the Vue’s website for coming attractions.  A couple of weeks ago, The Time Traveler’s Wife showed up under “Coming Soon” – and so, I watched the trailer, cried, and resolved to read the book.  Having finished Wicked on Friday, I was hoping to secure The Time Traveler’s Wife this weekend (preferably from one of the used bookstores).  BUT…we left town on Sunday with Me and Mr Darcy instead.  Big mistake.

 

The used bookstores didn’t have the sought after book and Waterstones had two copies hidden on a table, but for £8.99.  CK had already told me he could get it from amazon (with free shipping) for just £3.99, so even though I desperately wanted to begin reading it now, I figured the smart (and economical) thing to do was to order it online.   But as I browsed the fiction shelves in Oxfam, Me and Mr Darcy caught me eye.  Unfortunately. 

 

The cover was cute.  UK covers are 99% cuter than their US counterparts.   The back of the book blurb read:

He’s every woman’s fantasy…After a string of disastrous relationships, Emily Albright has had it with modern men.  She’d rather curl up with Pride and Prejudice and step into a time where men were honourable and strode across fields in breeches, their damp shirts clinging to their chests.  The men she meets are more into pleated trousers, two-timing and internet porn.

So when her best friend invites her to Mexico for a week of margaritas and manhunting, Emily books a guided tour of Jane Austen country instead.

There are no dream men here.  The coach is full of pensioners, apart from one Spike Hargreaves, a foul-tempered journalist writing a piece on why most women would love to date Mr. Darcy.

But then she walks into a room and finds herself face-to-dace with Darcy himself.  And every woman’s fantasy suddenly becomes one woman’s reality.

Having enjoyed Lost in Austen (where a modern woman magically swaps places with Lizzie Bennet), I thought the book would be cute.  Emily sounded likable from the back of the book blurb – but, I would soon find out, only a few chapters in, that she is the least likable heroine in literary history.  In fact, she is in all ways the polar opposite of Elizabeth Bennet and all other good Austen heroines (even Emma, who I don’t even like).

 

If I hated Emily Albright so much, why did I read all 340 pages of her story?  Good question!  I guess because I felt obligated.  I spent money on this book (fortunately, only £2.49) and I had started it and I made that vow to read 30 new books while I’m 30 and how could I quit my second book?  So, I persevered and finally (and thankfully!) finished it about 20 minutes ago.

 

It was the worst book I have ever read.  And, I will now provide you with a bulleted list of all the things I hated about it.

• Emily Albright.  She is a 29 year old manager of a family owned bookstore in NYC, very reminiscent of the Shop Around the Corner/You’ve Got Mail.  Except Emily is in no way near as cute, charming, or intelligent as Kathleen Kelly.   She’s supposed to be an Austen enthusiast and a major bookworm – which runs deep in her blood.  Her parents, both professors, named her Emily Bronte Hemingway Alrbight.  BUT we see no proof that she really reads anything other than Cosmo, which she seems super proud of having read numerous articles encouraging her to exercise her pelvic floor muscles (she drones on for about 3 pages singing the praises of her pelvic floor).  Interestingly, while Emily was packing for her trip to England, she did manage to squeeze The Time Traveler’s Wife into her carryon.  She is crass and ugly (in character) and annoying and in no way likable.  I actually hate her.  I would rather be Glinda’s roommate (and I hated Glinda) than Emily’s dinner date (even for one night!).  
• Alexandra Potter, the author, seems so pleased with herself that she is so “up” on popular culture.  There are so many tiring name drops!  Brad Pitt, Angelina Jolie (more than once), Lance Armstrong, Julia Roberts…Oh, the list goes on an on.  I guess Potter wasn’t striving for a timeless classic more than she was to prove to her readers that she subscribes to US Weekly. 
• The language.  Oh, dear!  Ok, I can admit I’m a bit prudish when it comes to language.  I absolutely hate it and see no need for words stronger than darn, crap, shoot, and freaking.  That said, I can tolerate some language.  The key is some.  There was so much foul language in this book it felt completely contrived.  Why would an Austen enthusiast, so tired of modern men and longing for an English countryside escape, work the f-word into 99% if her conversations and 100% of her inner dialogue? 
• Alexandra Potter is British.  Her character, Emily Albright, is American.  Potter has done an unbelievably terrible job writing an American.  Oh, it’s awful!  Potter has written in every single stereotypical cliche, both of Americans and the English, and it is absolutely exhausting to read.  It’s tiring.  If I hadn’t gone to Potter’s website and found out she’s 39 years old actually lives part of her year in LA, I would have thought she was no older than 21 and I would have bet she’s never left the country, certainly never traveled to the US.
• The book was so incredibly predictable.  Potter was so clearly trying to parallel Pride and Prejudice and this reader just kept cringing the whole way.  Predictable, contrived, blatant, gosh-darn-awful!  Further, Potter felt compelled to constantly tell the reader.  There was no showing whatsoever.  Annoying, to say the least!
• The writing style was horrible.  I hate first-person, present-tense narration. 
• Potter has Darcy all wrong.  He wouldn’t try to kiss someone having met her just three or four times.  No way is that believable.  First of all, he would never fall in love with someone so crass and dumb like Emily (though Emily was to mirror Elizabeth Bennet, she more closely resembled Lizzie’s youngest sister, Lydia) let alone confess his love one week after meeting her!  Oh, it’s just all so wrong!

 

I know I could add a few more bullets to my list, but I’d rather eat lunch.  

In an act of “I hate your book and think you’re the worst author in the world,” I emailed Alexandra Potter.  I simply told her she might want to correct a sentence in her “About Me” section.  

So this is what I’ve learned: 
Inspiration does not strike in the Zara changing rooms. 
You’re bottom does not leave that chair until you’ve written something.
And a lot of somethings, eventually, make a novel.

I held myself back from including in my email the recommendation of adding the phrase, “but not necessarily a good one,” at the end of “novel.” 

 

Obviously, you should not read Me and Mr Darcy.  Or anything else by Alexandra Potter.