Airborne Toxic Event

White Noise - Don DeLillo (1985, Viking Penguin)

At some point while reading, I started a mental list of "Things this book reminded me of," but because I didn't write it down, I now only remember Catch-22. This is disappointing, b/c I was planning to arrange this whole post around this list.

Instead, I'll have to talk about my vague sense of dis-ease while reading. I have to figure it was carefully cultivated. The talk of death and emergencies, the constant hum of non sequitur from background televisions or radio, the terribly sophisticated contentiousness of the children, and the regular interspersion of brand names... ugh, I feel a little uncomfortable again just thinking of it all.

[Sorry, just took a break to have dinner and also to randomly watch this video of my '07 Ducks]

Okay, in short. Dude invented the field of Hitler studies, which he teaches at a Midwest college. On his fifth marriage to a woman who has also had several. Many many children from all the various pairings - some live with them, others don't but make appearances. Then there's an "airborne toxic event" that forces the family to evacuate, and also prompts a couple of my favorite moments of the book. In one, Gladney tries to reassure his family that things'll be fine b/c this sort of thing happens to poor people of color, not to college professors. In another, an organization charged with planning simulations of emergency response is attempting to respond to the real thing, in order to practice for their real work of simulations. (The later simulation is also kind of awesome.) Gladney ends up exposed to the toxins, which spins off into how both he and his wife respond to the threat of death.

Among the points of interest were Gladney's assertion early in the novel that "all plots tend to move deathward," which he isn't even sure he believes but which he revisits again and again; the ridiculous discussions Gladney has with a fellow teacher, the last of which poses the question of "how does a person say good-bye to himself;" and the need of non-believers for believers to exist somewhere out there.

So in the end you end up with a satire, of a world that doesn't feel dangerous or meaningless per se, but which is deeply discomfiting. It's funny, but somehow not humorous. It's also strangely dated. None of DeLillo's themes have been rendered irrelevant by the trends of the last 25 years, and yet they feel so worn, as though we've already grown weary of them. Too many readers have followed in DeLillo's footsteps, perhaps, so what may be legitimately original is sadly no longer so for me.

The wisdom of young fools

The Two Lives of Miss Charlotte Merryweather - Alexandra Potter (Plume 2010)

I've mentioned enough times my complete adoration for parallel universes and the ability to be able to see the paths not taken, to measure out opportunity costs. I, for one, will probably always wonder about the Erin out there who went not to DC, but to Toronto, and where she is now. But Sliding Doors and The Post-Birthday World and now Potter's novel serve as a good reminder that it's the little moments, not the big decisions, that have the biggest impact.

And this isn't actually particularly Sliding Doors. This book came across my desk at the library, and I was charmed by the cover, so I kept an eye on it, and as soon as I finished my last final, snagged it the second it came back in the door of the library. It seemed light, refreshing, set in London, and fun - everything I needed at the end of the semester.

So Charlotte. Is on the verge of 32 and a total stressball. A successful stressball, but still. And then a traffic detour shoots her through a wormhole (I guess?) and back to 1997, where her 21-year-old expat self is a happy-go-lucky bundle of Id. Young Charlotte doesn't recognize the now-blond, thinner (stressball) Charlotte as herself, and so Older Charlotte decides to impart some life lessons. (Lessons that she has apparently learned over 10 years, but I guess she wants to speed up the process?) And quelle surprise, it turns out Charlotte has a lot to learn from her younger self, especially about love.

It's a consummate beach read, and really quite charming. (And Potter - who incidentally has an adorable website - has also written the obligatory Mr. Darcy novel, so I'm sure I'll have to check it out too.)

Locavores, or I feel bad about my diet

Animal, Vegetable, Miracle - Barbara Kingsolver (HarperCollins, 2007)

So it may or may not be the case that at one point the reader sat down with both this book on a year of local eating and a bag from McDonalds. I can promise you that if it were the case, this reader was aware of how incongruous and embarrassing it was.

In short, Kingsolver and her family (husband, two daughters) moved full-time to their property in Virginia, and after some time settling in, embarked on a year of knowing the provenance of their food. Most of it, they grew themselves (either in the plant or animal husbandry sense). While this was a big commitment (duh) this was a foodie family that had roots in the world of fresh, local, home-grown food. They had grown up with gardens; they cooked with fresh ingredients; the youngest had already been raising chickens. This contributed to the success of their project - imagine if they didn't already know how to cook - and helped communicate that the kinds of lifestyle changes involved are not (or at least don't need to be) great hardships. On the other hand, they started out from a point so far beyond where many American families currently reside... it's easy to get overwhelmed and think, this will never work for me.

I'm not a cook. I don't get excited about it. I wish I did. It seems so romantic in Kingsolver's description. It makes me want to try harder. At the very least, maybe I'll start going to farmer's markets again so that at least I know what's in season, even if I refuse to give up my bananas. (Hell, I live in Southern California - I have more access to fresh produce than almost anyone else in the country.)

As the book was winding down, I was planning this post around a frustration that I didn't real feel connected to what was happening in their lives. I didn't get a sense of adventure. I didn't see how it fit into the rest of the narrative of their lives (and apparently it was an eventful year). And then I got to the chapter about turkey mating and was utterly won over. And then I came to the final chapter, where Kingsolver confronts my troubles as a reader:

I am old enough to know I should never, ever, trust I've explained anything perfectly. Some part of the audience will always remain at large, confused or plain unconvinced. As I wind up this account, I'm weighing that. Is it possible to explain the year we had?

This question, more than anything, made me feel comfortable with the book. It acknowledged the distance that would always remain, and I appreciated that.

Plus, seriously, fresh and local food. I promise.

Enough already with the vampires

From Dead to Worse - Charlaine Harris (Ace Books, 2008)

I know, I know. And actually, I don't have much to say here. More supernatural beings. More wars. And more chances for me to read about Eric and picture Alexander Skarsgård. (Yay!)

But honestly, as far as vampires are concerned, I'm thinking a lot more about the season finale of The Vampire Diaries, which I just finished watching. It made me sad. Intrigued, but sad.

(And yes, I am aware that this is a really sad and pitiful book review. Sorry.)

History = yay; libraries = yay. History of libraries = zzzz

I am lazy. Therefore...

History of Libraries of the Western World by Michael H. Harris


My rating: 3 of 5 stars
I like libraries. I like history. So there's really no reason this book should have put me to sleep so often. :(
It's not all boring though, and it particularly gets better in the second half when it moves onto modern library history.

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