Golden Days - Carolyn See (University of California Press, 1996, c1987)
The 80s were different. In a bunch of ways. Feminism and New Age mysticism and not-helicopter-parenting were all less under attack than they are now. On the other hand, the threat of nuclear annihilation was a real thing. And so, this twice-divorced mother seeking financial security - oh, and happiness! - recounts the days and years leading up to the other Big One that loomed over California during that wild and decadent decade.
The last pages, about what happens after the bomb falls.... they take up a lot of mental space, blocking my view back of the first 150 pages of this slim novel. And those pages are a wonder in themselves, of the remarkable and unremarkable, and of the meaning of women's friendships, and the omnipresence of men as a force to be defined in relation (often in opposition) to, and of moments that seemed so terribly dated ("That was what it was like back then?") and ones that seemed so current that I couldn't believe the book was 25 years old.
I don't know that I would recommend this book per se. I feel like it spoke to its time more effectively than it speaks to us. And I'm not sure of its potential audience today. But that doesn't mean it deserves anything less than my respect. And a significant measure of awe.
Monday, April 16, 2012
Thursday, April 12, 2012
Lyricism
Handwriting - Michael Ondaatje (Vintage International, 2000, c1998)
Damn I love Michael Ondaatje. (Note to self: must read/watch English Patient again.) I just wish I loved poetry as much. I am learning things about poetry, like that you can't (well, I can't) just sit and read it where you might read a book or magazine. Poetry requires some level of solitude, and the ability to speak it aloud, to feel the words on your tongue. Poetry also excels at intimacy, and I've been aware of the way my voice changes when sharing verse with a lover.
See folks? This is what Ondaatje does to me. I meant to tell you about how frustrated I felt at my difficulty entering the poems, and instead I went down some wholly other road. So back to this slim volume of poems, set mostly in Sri Lanka, or at least the feeling of Sri Lanka. (They written both there and in Canada.) Like his prose, they are lush and rich. But so challenging.
I found myself captivated by the second part (of three) - a single poem cycle (?) called "The Nine Sentiments," as sexy as most of his writing tends to be. And a line from the final poem, "Last Ink":
Damn I love Michael Ondaatje. (Note to self: must read/watch English Patient again.) I just wish I loved poetry as much. I am learning things about poetry, like that you can't (well, I can't) just sit and read it where you might read a book or magazine. Poetry requires some level of solitude, and the ability to speak it aloud, to feel the words on your tongue. Poetry also excels at intimacy, and I've been aware of the way my voice changes when sharing verse with a lover.
See folks? This is what Ondaatje does to me. I meant to tell you about how frustrated I felt at my difficulty entering the poems, and instead I went down some wholly other road. So back to this slim volume of poems, set mostly in Sri Lanka, or at least the feeling of Sri Lanka. (They written both there and in Canada.) Like his prose, they are lush and rich. But so challenging.
I found myself captivated by the second part (of three) - a single poem cycle (?) called "The Nine Sentiments," as sexy as most of his writing tends to be. And a line from the final poem, "Last Ink":
I want to die on your chest but not yet,Sometime in the 13th century of our love....
she wrote, sometime in the 13th century
of our love
Tuesday, April 10, 2012
So that other thing that happened during the Russian Revolution....
Enchantments - Kathryn Harrison (Random House, 2012)
I knew I had read a book by Harrison before, except it turns out I had things all sorts of confused, and the book I knew I had read (Envy) wasn't the book I thought it was. Oops. Anyway, here's what I said about that novel: in progress, and completed. And this answers all the confusion I had about how the same author was responsible for books with such different fingerprints.
But I digress, which is what I do. Enchantments is mostly set in the months following the February Revolution and the tsar's abdication. Masha is the son of the recently murdered Rasputin; in the wake of his death, she and her sister move in with the Romanov's, quite possibly the least awesome place in Russia that they could have been.
Except..... the tsarina thinks Masha has some of her father's healing power, so she spends most of her time with the hemophiliac tsarevich. And in this weird purgatory, young love blossoms. It's a strange, mostly innocent love between teenagers - Alyosha is just barely 14 - but made poignant by the fact that they are just sitting around waiting to die or to be saved. (A state Alyosha has experienced for pretty much his whole life.)
Masha and Alyosha fall in love amidst stories, woven by Masha to pass the time and occupy the prince. She creates a future world, retells stories of her father's past and of his parents' love story, visits scenes from her home, from Petersburg, from wherever. And when they are inevitably separated, the royal family sent East and finally executed, the novel continues with moments from Masha's life in the years to come (during which a young boy continues to hold her heart and stay 14 forever) and through Alyosha's journal from the months before his death.
At the end of the novel, a time when I was feeling particularly melancholy and sad to leave Harrison's world, there are acknowledgments, less that two pages. It explained a little, but left open several historical questions. And reminded me that while I've read broadly about this era - history, literature, etc - I haven't spent much time with the doomed royal family, or the exiled Whites who managed to eke out existences in Germany, France, America. It's enough to drive this girl back to the history books....
I knew I had read a book by Harrison before, except it turns out I had things all sorts of confused, and the book I knew I had read (Envy) wasn't the book I thought it was. Oops. Anyway, here's what I said about that novel: in progress, and completed. And this answers all the confusion I had about how the same author was responsible for books with such different fingerprints.
But I digress, which is what I do. Enchantments is mostly set in the months following the February Revolution and the tsar's abdication. Masha is the son of the recently murdered Rasputin; in the wake of his death, she and her sister move in with the Romanov's, quite possibly the least awesome place in Russia that they could have been.
Except..... the tsarina thinks Masha has some of her father's healing power, so she spends most of her time with the hemophiliac tsarevich. And in this weird purgatory, young love blossoms. It's a strange, mostly innocent love between teenagers - Alyosha is just barely 14 - but made poignant by the fact that they are just sitting around waiting to die or to be saved. (A state Alyosha has experienced for pretty much his whole life.)
Masha and Alyosha fall in love amidst stories, woven by Masha to pass the time and occupy the prince. She creates a future world, retells stories of her father's past and of his parents' love story, visits scenes from her home, from Petersburg, from wherever. And when they are inevitably separated, the royal family sent East and finally executed, the novel continues with moments from Masha's life in the years to come (during which a young boy continues to hold her heart and stay 14 forever) and through Alyosha's journal from the months before his death.
At the end of the novel, a time when I was feeling particularly melancholy and sad to leave Harrison's world, there are acknowledgments, less that two pages. It explained a little, but left open several historical questions. And reminded me that while I've read broadly about this era - history, literature, etc - I haven't spent much time with the doomed royal family, or the exiled Whites who managed to eke out existences in Germany, France, America. It's enough to drive this girl back to the history books....
Monday, April 09, 2012
The United States: A User's Manual
Give Me Liberty: A Handbook for American Revolutionaries - Naomi Wolf (Simon & Schuster Paperbacks, 2008)
Over the last few weeks, I've come to a realization about the value I place on gifts. As I work to overcome some of my hoarder instincts, I find I hit a much harder wall when it comes to items given to me by others.
This tangent has a point, which is that this book was one of those gifts. I've sadly moved on from my more politically-active 20s, and am not quite ready for a leadership role like the one this book encourages its readers to take. And I feel a little guilty about this fact on the best of days, and much guiltier while actually reading the book. So this wasn't the book I would have picked out for myself. But it came in a shiny bow, so read it I (eventually) would.
I struggle with what I view as the stridency of many political activists. I wish I didn't. It clearly brings me face to face with some of my own issues. But since this isn't a psychoanalytical session, let's set all that aside and just acknowledge that I faced this book with some amount of trepidation.
Big takeaways from the book:
Over the last few weeks, I've come to a realization about the value I place on gifts. As I work to overcome some of my hoarder instincts, I find I hit a much harder wall when it comes to items given to me by others.
This tangent has a point, which is that this book was one of those gifts. I've sadly moved on from my more politically-active 20s, and am not quite ready for a leadership role like the one this book encourages its readers to take. And I feel a little guilty about this fact on the best of days, and much guiltier while actually reading the book. So this wasn't the book I would have picked out for myself. But it came in a shiny bow, so read it I (eventually) would.
I struggle with what I view as the stridency of many political activists. I wish I didn't. It clearly brings me face to face with some of my own issues. But since this isn't a psychoanalytical session, let's set all that aside and just acknowledge that I faced this book with some amount of trepidation.
Big takeaways from the book:
- Democracy is not just a right, but a responsibility.
- We are complicit with the forces (career politicians, political parties, corporations) that want to keep us from remembering and exercising these rights and responsibilities.
- This sucks.
- But there is a lot that we can do, and a lot that people are doing. The Constitution was designed to get and keep us involved.
- And lots of "how to" stuff, most of which made me feel a little bit exhausted.
Monday, April 02, 2012
Oh dear
A Spot of Bother - Mark Haddon (Vintage Contemporaries, 2006)
Reading this book was either a fantastic idea or a kinda terrible one, I'm not sure which. Haddon is the The Curious Incident of the dog in the Night-Time author - and this was a book that I liked less than everyone around me. Which meant I hemmed and hawed about this one. But amid all the ways I get distracted from my bookshelf, I'm really trying to make an effort to clear out those shelves and make room for something new. So here we go.
It's your typical dysfunctional British family, I think. Dad's retired and trying to figure out what to do with himself, Mum is working in a shop (and that's not all), and the kids are both in bumpy relationships. Katie decides to get married, and this makes everyone crazy, b/c the man in question is considered a working-class dolt, more or less. Except "makes everyone crazy" brings me to pause, because the bigger story in this book - for me at least - is whether or not George (Dad) is indeed going mad.
One day coming out of the shower, he sees a rash of sorts on his hip, and immediately diagnoses himself with cancer and undergoes an ever-escalating set of measures to distract himself from the question, to avoid getting it looked at, to get it treated (maybe) by a doctor, to keep it hidden, to tell everyone, etc. In short, George's condition looks quite a bit like mine. Which made him as a character particularly touching. And infuriating.
He makes lists, he passes out, he makes decisions that run the gamut from "sure, I can understand that" to "God no, please someone stop his brain right now." What's sort of fun though, although "fun" is probably the wrong word (although the book is funny too, don't get me wrong), is that his family members are each engaged in the same sort of mental gymnastics. Which makes me think that maybe I'm not alone. On the other hand, they also have no time or space for sympathy for his plight, which pushes right up against the reassurance of my last sentence. Sigh.
And here, a fairly spot-on description of one of the (many) mental processes that accompany this kind of panic attack: "He assumed ... that he was going to suffer some kind of organ failure. It seemed inconceivable that the human body could survive the pressure created by that kind of sustained panic without something rupturing or ceasing to function."
But on the other hand, the whole book isn't one prolonged exposure to the howling fantods (oh and go here for more). It's also several lovely moments of self-realization, self-delusion, and joining and rejoining of bonds between family/lovers/etc. Like this happy little moment: "We're just the little people on top of the cake. Weddings are about families. You and me, we've got the rest of our lives together." And not to give too much away, but George.... I think he's going to be okay.
Reading this book was either a fantastic idea or a kinda terrible one, I'm not sure which. Haddon is the The Curious Incident of the dog in the Night-Time author - and this was a book that I liked less than everyone around me. Which meant I hemmed and hawed about this one. But amid all the ways I get distracted from my bookshelf, I'm really trying to make an effort to clear out those shelves and make room for something new. So here we go.
It's your typical dysfunctional British family, I think. Dad's retired and trying to figure out what to do with himself, Mum is working in a shop (and that's not all), and the kids are both in bumpy relationships. Katie decides to get married, and this makes everyone crazy, b/c the man in question is considered a working-class dolt, more or less. Except "makes everyone crazy" brings me to pause, because the bigger story in this book - for me at least - is whether or not George (Dad) is indeed going mad.
One day coming out of the shower, he sees a rash of sorts on his hip, and immediately diagnoses himself with cancer and undergoes an ever-escalating set of measures to distract himself from the question, to avoid getting it looked at, to get it treated (maybe) by a doctor, to keep it hidden, to tell everyone, etc. In short, George's condition looks quite a bit like mine. Which made him as a character particularly touching. And infuriating.
He makes lists, he passes out, he makes decisions that run the gamut from "sure, I can understand that" to "God no, please someone stop his brain right now." What's sort of fun though, although "fun" is probably the wrong word (although the book is funny too, don't get me wrong), is that his family members are each engaged in the same sort of mental gymnastics. Which makes me think that maybe I'm not alone. On the other hand, they also have no time or space for sympathy for his plight, which pushes right up against the reassurance of my last sentence. Sigh.
And here, a fairly spot-on description of one of the (many) mental processes that accompany this kind of panic attack: "He assumed ... that he was going to suffer some kind of organ failure. It seemed inconceivable that the human body could survive the pressure created by that kind of sustained panic without something rupturing or ceasing to function."
But on the other hand, the whole book isn't one prolonged exposure to the howling fantods (oh and go here for more). It's also several lovely moments of self-realization, self-delusion, and joining and rejoining of bonds between family/lovers/etc. Like this happy little moment: "We're just the little people on top of the cake. Weddings are about families. You and me, we've got the rest of our lives together." And not to give too much away, but George.... I think he's going to be okay.
Friday, March 23, 2012
Rum and coke
A History of the World in 6 Glasses - Tom Standage (Walker & Company, 2005)
I remember being positively giddy when this book came out. History? Through an element of pop culture so fundamental I don't think you can even call it pop? Love the idea.
Which of course meant I waited years to actually read it. And also possibly built it up a little too much in my head. How can a popular history possibly live up to such expectations?
The premise: six drinks that both reflected and shaped the world (culturally, economically, politically) in which they were dominant. Six drinks which are still pretty bloody popular today, for that matter. First alcohol, then caffeine. Beer in Mesopotamia and wine in ancient Greece and Rome. Distilled spirits in the colonies. Then coffee comes in from Arabia and helps the growth of the professional clerical class, not to mention Habermas's "transformation of the public sphere." And tea, which looked one way in the Ancient Far East, and quite another once the British got ahold of it. And then Coca Cola, which symbolizes everything about the "triumph" of American capitalism (and our political rhetoric). (Although, if put on the spot, I found myself most interested in how carbonated drinks became popular around the turn of the last century. A world without fizzy water seems almost too terrible to imagine.)
So I wanted more rigorous scholarship. (Not saying the research wasn't vigorous, but I could have gone deeper into it with Standage.) But given the intended audience, this was pretty fun. Recommended.
I remember being positively giddy when this book came out. History? Through an element of pop culture so fundamental I don't think you can even call it pop? Love the idea.
Which of course meant I waited years to actually read it. And also possibly built it up a little too much in my head. How can a popular history possibly live up to such expectations?
The premise: six drinks that both reflected and shaped the world (culturally, economically, politically) in which they were dominant. Six drinks which are still pretty bloody popular today, for that matter. First alcohol, then caffeine. Beer in Mesopotamia and wine in ancient Greece and Rome. Distilled spirits in the colonies. Then coffee comes in from Arabia and helps the growth of the professional clerical class, not to mention Habermas's "transformation of the public sphere." And tea, which looked one way in the Ancient Far East, and quite another once the British got ahold of it. And then Coca Cola, which symbolizes everything about the "triumph" of American capitalism (and our political rhetoric). (Although, if put on the spot, I found myself most interested in how carbonated drinks became popular around the turn of the last century. A world without fizzy water seems almost too terrible to imagine.)
So I wanted more rigorous scholarship. (Not saying the research wasn't vigorous, but I could have gone deeper into it with Standage.) But given the intended audience, this was pretty fun. Recommended.
Wednesday, March 21, 2012
Falling in love amidst a whole lotta plot lines
Secrets of the Lost Summer - Carla Neggers (Mira, 2012)
We've probably established that I am a sucker for novels featuring hockey players. (Too lazy to find supporting links. Bad librarian.) So that's how this book came across my radar. She's back home in her small town licking her wounds and pursuing a new venture; he's a former hockey player who inherited the rundown house down the lane. Sounds simple enough, despite the shocking lack of fake marriages or anything of the like. :)
But then there's more. The house fell into Dylan's lap because of his father, who was hunting for treasure. And the old lady who owned the house for decades before that has a secret. And Olivia's whole family is terrified about an agoraphobic anxiety that may or may not be genetic. And everyone wants to either stay home or escape to somewhere else, or both all at once.
So there's a lot going on, and as someone who struggles to come to terms with her own (different) brand of anxiety, I found a lot of the anxiety sideplot(s) confusing. And the hockey thing..... well, no. There wasn't enough of it to matter. You could probably change his old profession by altering less than 100 words in the book, and it wouldn't really make a difference to the story. But that's okay. Because it was sweet. And it did feel a little like coming home. It was one of those books that made me feel okay about how often I want to embrace the side of me that is a homebody and crafty and bake-y. (The hidden Etsy-er?) Now if only to find the time to let her out....
We've probably established that I am a sucker for novels featuring hockey players. (Too lazy to find supporting links. Bad librarian.) So that's how this book came across my radar. She's back home in her small town licking her wounds and pursuing a new venture; he's a former hockey player who inherited the rundown house down the lane. Sounds simple enough, despite the shocking lack of fake marriages or anything of the like. :)
But then there's more. The house fell into Dylan's lap because of his father, who was hunting for treasure. And the old lady who owned the house for decades before that has a secret. And Olivia's whole family is terrified about an agoraphobic anxiety that may or may not be genetic. And everyone wants to either stay home or escape to somewhere else, or both all at once.
So there's a lot going on, and as someone who struggles to come to terms with her own (different) brand of anxiety, I found a lot of the anxiety sideplot(s) confusing. And the hockey thing..... well, no. There wasn't enough of it to matter. You could probably change his old profession by altering less than 100 words in the book, and it wouldn't really make a difference to the story. But that's okay. Because it was sweet. And it did feel a little like coming home. It was one of those books that made me feel okay about how often I want to embrace the side of me that is a homebody and crafty and bake-y. (The hidden Etsy-er?) Now if only to find the time to let her out....
Wednesday, March 07, 2012
Egyptology, bitches
The Other Guy's Bride - Connie Brockway (Montlake, 2011)
So I'm reading capsule reviews and I see something about turn of the (last) century Egypt. And my ears perk up. And then I see a comparison to Amelia Peabody, and I am sold. Huzzah.
I read very few period romances, so I can't really compare this to other works in the genre, so I ended up comparing it to Elizabeth Peters all the time. And it's not really fair, because no one is going to be Radcliffe Emerson. And NO ONE is going to be Ramses. But I digress. This is cute. Ginny comes from a family renowned in archaeological circles, but she's sorta the black sheep. Until now. She has a plan to make her name, but this means figuring out how to get to the middle of nowhere in the Egyptian desert. Fortunately, this is exactly where another lady on her ship is headed, more or less, to meet her military fiance. So Ginny manages to take her place and get escorted out to wherever, except along the way she has to fall in love with her escort and face a bunch of dangerous situations. And then everyone comes together, and secret identities are revealed and ... etc etc etc.
But it was so fun! Yay. :)
So I'm reading capsule reviews and I see something about turn of the (last) century Egypt. And my ears perk up. And then I see a comparison to Amelia Peabody, and I am sold. Huzzah.
I read very few period romances, so I can't really compare this to other works in the genre, so I ended up comparing it to Elizabeth Peters all the time. And it's not really fair, because no one is going to be Radcliffe Emerson. And NO ONE is going to be Ramses. But I digress. This is cute. Ginny comes from a family renowned in archaeological circles, but she's sorta the black sheep. Until now. She has a plan to make her name, but this means figuring out how to get to the middle of nowhere in the Egyptian desert. Fortunately, this is exactly where another lady on her ship is headed, more or less, to meet her military fiance. So Ginny manages to take her place and get escorted out to wherever, except along the way she has to fall in love with her escort and face a bunch of dangerous situations. And then everyone comes together, and secret identities are revealed and ... etc etc etc.
But it was so fun! Yay. :)
Friday, March 02, 2012
Sometimes you wanna go...
Lucky Girls - Nell Freudenberger (Ecco, 2003)
I'm kinda meh about short stories. I want my fiction in big epic doses, where I can fall into a world and only climb back out when I really must (the occasional New Yorker short story aside). So I put off this highly touted collection for years, delaying the actual pleasure of reading it.
225 pages, 5 stories. So if you're doing the math, these are longer than your typical short fiction. Not quite novella length, but more capable of letting me take a dip into the world, if not quite swim in it. The stories are chiefly about women, but maybe more about displacement. In three, Americans find themselves living in India, but in a way such that they don't quite belong in either land. And they are all at the mercy of relationships - their own, but also ones where they sit on the periphery, and yet still find themselves buffeted by storms.
And yet, for all these thoughtful pensive impulsive characters, I paused at a different line, attributed by the mother of the last tale's narrator: "If you're always thinking about how things are going to be in your life, you can never be happy."She then points out how her mother falls short of this recommendation for living, but the woman has a point. What would these stories be if the characters thought just a little less?
I'm kinda meh about short stories. I want my fiction in big epic doses, where I can fall into a world and only climb back out when I really must (the occasional New Yorker short story aside). So I put off this highly touted collection for years, delaying the actual pleasure of reading it.
225 pages, 5 stories. So if you're doing the math, these are longer than your typical short fiction. Not quite novella length, but more capable of letting me take a dip into the world, if not quite swim in it. The stories are chiefly about women, but maybe more about displacement. In three, Americans find themselves living in India, but in a way such that they don't quite belong in either land. And they are all at the mercy of relationships - their own, but also ones where they sit on the periphery, and yet still find themselves buffeted by storms.
And yet, for all these thoughtful pensive impulsive characters, I paused at a different line, attributed by the mother of the last tale's narrator: "If you're always thinking about how things are going to be in your life, you can never be happy."She then points out how her mother falls short of this recommendation for living, but the woman has a point. What would these stories be if the characters thought just a little less?
Tuesday, February 21, 2012
Tree of Life
Healing Myths, Healing Magic - Donald M. Epstein (Amber-Allen, 2000)
I'm still processing my way through this book, so I don't know that I have anything coherent to say yet. In brief, Epstein touches on one of my favorite philosophical points, which is (although he would say it differently) that we construct narratives and "truths" that shape our lives based on societally-based myths that we accept. Or even if we don't accept them per se, in some way we have fully digested them. As he says, "our culture and its stories largely determine the manner in which we experience the world and our place in it." I personally believe there is a lot of power in the collected constructions that our society holds, and in a good way. I don't think he'd disagree, but it can definitely hinder our ability to live authentically and heal and all sorts of good things.
So, he sets about exploding many of our cultural myths about healing, tackling social, biomedical, religious, and New Age ones in course. For each, he offers a "magical" incantation, a way of reframing healing and our role in it.
Except (almost) all of them are incredibly difficult for me. In part because a lot of the myths privilege intellect and an "I can think my way around and out of this" attitude. Even if that's not the core of the myth itself, in order to let go of it, you sort of have to be able to accept that intellect often hinders healing more than it helps. And that is unbelievably difficult for me. I feel like maybe I need to spend some time with Yoda.
Anyway, so that's where I'm sitting right now, "influenced by all we have been, all that we have done, all that we have believed, and all that we have interacted with," trying to find meaning for me. Or rather, trying to let go of the desire to *find* meaning.
I'm still processing my way through this book, so I don't know that I have anything coherent to say yet. In brief, Epstein touches on one of my favorite philosophical points, which is (although he would say it differently) that we construct narratives and "truths" that shape our lives based on societally-based myths that we accept. Or even if we don't accept them per se, in some way we have fully digested them. As he says, "our culture and its stories largely determine the manner in which we experience the world and our place in it." I personally believe there is a lot of power in the collected constructions that our society holds, and in a good way. I don't think he'd disagree, but it can definitely hinder our ability to live authentically and heal and all sorts of good things.
So, he sets about exploding many of our cultural myths about healing, tackling social, biomedical, religious, and New Age ones in course. For each, he offers a "magical" incantation, a way of reframing healing and our role in it.
Except (almost) all of them are incredibly difficult for me. In part because a lot of the myths privilege intellect and an "I can think my way around and out of this" attitude. Even if that's not the core of the myth itself, in order to let go of it, you sort of have to be able to accept that intellect often hinders healing more than it helps. And that is unbelievably difficult for me. I feel like maybe I need to spend some time with Yoda.
Anyway, so that's where I'm sitting right now, "influenced by all we have been, all that we have done, all that we have believed, and all that we have interacted with," trying to find meaning for me. Or rather, trying to let go of the desire to *find* meaning.
Monday, February 20, 2012
Could this be love?
I Think I Love You - Allison Pearson (Alfred A. Knopf, 2011, advance reader's edition)
I had quite the crush on NPH (I mean, obviously) in his Doogie Howser days. And I seem to remember several months of adoration for Christian Slater. But my teen passion was for an athlete, which somehow felt much different (to me) than loving a teen heartthrob. I jealously guarded my love for Paul Kariya, and didn't have to share him with the other hoards of teen girls.
But then, I could still identify with Petra and her girlfriends, and the way they felt about David Cassidy. That feeling that somehow he was reaching out directly to you, even as - in their case, at least - it was about the connections you make with the girls around you as well.
Anyway, so Petra has a new best friend, and they hover on the orbit of one of those stereotypical queen bees, who existed even in Wales of the 1970s, it turns out. Their bond: Cassidy, who helps them weather the storms of adolescence. The greatest storm though, arises from their misadventures trying to see him in concert. At the same time, young college grad Bill turns out to *be* David Cassidy, or rather to channel his voice for one of those teeny-bopper magazines. This is hugely embarrassing, and yet it's his life.
Fast forward a quarter-century. Petra is mourning her mother, her failed marriage, and her inability to protect her teen daughter from the hurts that plagued her. But then she finds a lost letter, and a chance to go back in time, and maybe let her teenage self have the experience of a lifetime.
It's not just a love story between a man and a woman, or a man and millions of girls. It's also about love between friends, the complications of familial love, and the ways we tie ourselves in knots trying to be the "right" thing for the ones we love. I didn't know what to expect when I picked this up, but it was warm and comforting. A good find.
I had quite the crush on NPH (I mean, obviously) in his Doogie Howser days. And I seem to remember several months of adoration for Christian Slater. But my teen passion was for an athlete, which somehow felt much different (to me) than loving a teen heartthrob. I jealously guarded my love for Paul Kariya, and didn't have to share him with the other hoards of teen girls.
But then, I could still identify with Petra and her girlfriends, and the way they felt about David Cassidy. That feeling that somehow he was reaching out directly to you, even as - in their case, at least - it was about the connections you make with the girls around you as well.
Anyway, so Petra has a new best friend, and they hover on the orbit of one of those stereotypical queen bees, who existed even in Wales of the 1970s, it turns out. Their bond: Cassidy, who helps them weather the storms of adolescence. The greatest storm though, arises from their misadventures trying to see him in concert. At the same time, young college grad Bill turns out to *be* David Cassidy, or rather to channel his voice for one of those teeny-bopper magazines. This is hugely embarrassing, and yet it's his life.
Fast forward a quarter-century. Petra is mourning her mother, her failed marriage, and her inability to protect her teen daughter from the hurts that plagued her. But then she finds a lost letter, and a chance to go back in time, and maybe let her teenage self have the experience of a lifetime.
It's not just a love story between a man and a woman, or a man and millions of girls. It's also about love between friends, the complications of familial love, and the ways we tie ourselves in knots trying to be the "right" thing for the ones we love. I didn't know what to expect when I picked this up, but it was warm and comforting. A good find.
Wednesday, January 25, 2012
Addressing the void
Staring at the Sun: Overcoming the Terror of Death - Irvin D. Yalom (Jossey-Bass, 2008)
One nice thing about having a blog which few (if any!) read is that I can be fairly forthcoming when it comes to self-disclosure. So I can tell you that this book was recommended to me recently as I've been going through a struggle with anxiety that has taken the form - in part - of death panic.
It seems so banal somehow to state "I'm afraid of dying" and so I've perhaps had a difficult time doing that. And my reluctance to just say it gives the fear more power. In this fear, I must realize, I am far from alone. Which is one of the many helpful takeaways from Yalom's work.
Oddly, as I start to try to describe the book, I find it slipping away from me. I'm not sure why that is. But let me try to reel it back in. Yalom explores the prevalence of death anxiety, and ways in which he has found the words of past thinkers helpful. He uses copious examples from his own work as a therapist. He challenges us to consider what about death terrifies us, and in what ways we can find comfort in confrontation.
I was also struck by his emphasis on connection. It's a theme that I've come back to again and again in my life, particularly in challenging times, and in this book I almost felt as though my focus was being validated.
This is almost useless as a book review, so let me try to sum up my reading experience. I struggled at times with this book, finding myself alternately receptive to its message and entirely the opposite. I argued with it, and raged over the places where it seemed to be speaking to someone entirely other than myself. I even found myself wishing for more spirituality, although Yalom very eloquently explains his reasons for the omission. And yet, these experiences enriched the book, because they forced me to ask myself why I reacted so strongly. For an introspective reader, this book offers ample food for thought, and certainly a dose of comfort.
One nice thing about having a blog which few (if any!) read is that I can be fairly forthcoming when it comes to self-disclosure. So I can tell you that this book was recommended to me recently as I've been going through a struggle with anxiety that has taken the form - in part - of death panic.
It seems so banal somehow to state "I'm afraid of dying" and so I've perhaps had a difficult time doing that. And my reluctance to just say it gives the fear more power. In this fear, I must realize, I am far from alone. Which is one of the many helpful takeaways from Yalom's work.
Oddly, as I start to try to describe the book, I find it slipping away from me. I'm not sure why that is. But let me try to reel it back in. Yalom explores the prevalence of death anxiety, and ways in which he has found the words of past thinkers helpful. He uses copious examples from his own work as a therapist. He challenges us to consider what about death terrifies us, and in what ways we can find comfort in confrontation.
I was also struck by his emphasis on connection. It's a theme that I've come back to again and again in my life, particularly in challenging times, and in this book I almost felt as though my focus was being validated.
This is almost useless as a book review, so let me try to sum up my reading experience. I struggled at times with this book, finding myself alternately receptive to its message and entirely the opposite. I argued with it, and raged over the places where it seemed to be speaking to someone entirely other than myself. I even found myself wishing for more spirituality, although Yalom very eloquently explains his reasons for the omission. And yet, these experiences enriched the book, because they forced me to ask myself why I reacted so strongly. For an introspective reader, this book offers ample food for thought, and certainly a dose of comfort.
Tuesday, January 24, 2012
Hotshots
Hot as Sin - Bella Andre (Dell Books, 2009)
Sometimes library books get misdirected. Like this one which showed up yesterday. So obviously I had to read it before sending it to its rightful destination. In brief:
Sometimes library books get misdirected. Like this one which showed up yesterday. So obviously I had to read it before sending it to its rightful destination. In brief:
- car accidents cause a lot of miscarriages
- all firefighters are hot
- if you run away from love when you're 18, you'll eventually run into the guy 10 years later, and fall in love again
- especially if he flies across states to see you after a second car accident
- and then helps you trek through the woods to save your kidnapped sister
Tuesday, January 17, 2012
A dish best served....
The Count of Monte Cristo - Alexandre Dumas, translated and abridged by Lowell Bair (Bantam Classic, 1844, 1956, 2003)
My boyfriend and I had the following exchange after he encouraged me to read this book since it was a) one of his favorites, and b) both a movie and (especially) an anime series that he liked quite a bit:
Him: I don't know if you'll like [the anime]. I mean, it's pretty different from the book.
Me: [quizzical]
Him: Like for starters, it's set in the future.
Hmm, in typing this story, I suppose I can see how you the reader would not be quite as tickled by it as I was. I don't know if I'm very good at telling jokes. Anyway, I thought it was hilarious, and I definitely want to see a version of the Count where they travel around in spaceships and he is maybe a vampire. But that isn't the novel, so.....
I felt a little bad about getting the abridged version, but when I realized it weighed in at 531 pages I got over my shame. Fortunately, it is a quick-moving 531 pages. I felt like I got through big chunks of text and events every time I picked up the book. Seriously, so much happens.
Basic premise: poor guy spends years in prison, and when he gets out (and how!), he sets about taking the most intricate revenge on those who wronged him. Along the way, we get to see how often the bad guy finishes first. But we know that the race isn't truly over, because the Count has a different ending in store.
Except.... the Count kinda creeped me out. I think I already get why he is (maybe) a vampire in this anime adaptation. He knows all and does all and has everything and ... I don't know. It's creepy. You start to think that his younger self really did die in prison. He redeems himself for me, but I can't reveal much more than that. Suffice it to say that I appreciate it when passion overtakes a cool, hardened facade.
...and I'm babbling. Anyway, good book. Sad I waited so long to read it. And can't wait to watch it on screen.
My boyfriend and I had the following exchange after he encouraged me to read this book since it was a) one of his favorites, and b) both a movie and (especially) an anime series that he liked quite a bit:
Him: I don't know if you'll like [the anime]. I mean, it's pretty different from the book.
Me: [quizzical]
Him: Like for starters, it's set in the future.
Hmm, in typing this story, I suppose I can see how you the reader would not be quite as tickled by it as I was. I don't know if I'm very good at telling jokes. Anyway, I thought it was hilarious, and I definitely want to see a version of the Count where they travel around in spaceships and he is maybe a vampire. But that isn't the novel, so.....
I felt a little bad about getting the abridged version, but when I realized it weighed in at 531 pages I got over my shame. Fortunately, it is a quick-moving 531 pages. I felt like I got through big chunks of text and events every time I picked up the book. Seriously, so much happens.
Basic premise: poor guy spends years in prison, and when he gets out (and how!), he sets about taking the most intricate revenge on those who wronged him. Along the way, we get to see how often the bad guy finishes first. But we know that the race isn't truly over, because the Count has a different ending in store.
Except.... the Count kinda creeped me out. I think I already get why he is (maybe) a vampire in this anime adaptation. He knows all and does all and has everything and ... I don't know. It's creepy. You start to think that his younger self really did die in prison. He redeems himself for me, but I can't reveal much more than that. Suffice it to say that I appreciate it when passion overtakes a cool, hardened facade.
...and I'm babbling. Anyway, good book. Sad I waited so long to read it. And can't wait to watch it on screen.
Wednesday, January 11, 2012
Institutionalized Injustice
The New Jim Crow: Mass Incarceration in the Age of Colorblindness - Michelle Alexander (The New Press, 2010)
Alexander provides an impassioned monograph arguing what we - if we're to be honest with ourselves - already know: the criminal justice system in this country has systemic problems that make it racially biased. And our criminal justice system legitimizes ongoing and permanent discrimination against those that fall into its hands. In effect, we have created a new set of structures that mimic many of the effects of Jim Crow.
What I found particularly compelling was Alexander's analysis of the impact of the War on Drugs, and how a "public consensus was constructed by political and media elites that drug crime is black and brown." Furthermore, court decisions have essentially given a green light to racial profiling. And what is especially fantastic about this is that African Americans engage in illegal drug behavior at no greater rate than Caucasians. And yet they are caught and punished so far disproportionately that it becomes a joke.
I might have been precisely the target audience for this book. And yet, in reading, I sometimes got caught up with things that took away from her argument. Like following footnotes to discover sources, and seeing how often the reference was another scholarly work, not the primary source itself. (And then in one case spending a whole bunch of time online trying to look up old Congressional Records in order to figure out whether the cited source attributed a quote to the correct person.) This made me cranky, which seems particularly unfair of me when you consider how few works of popular scholarship offer footnotes whatsoever. But this, I fear, is just who I am.
Give this book a shot. It broadened and deepened my understanding of the incarceration crisis in this country, and made me wonder how taking voting rights away from felons isn't a violation of the Fifteenth Amendment. And so on. Excellent food for thought.
Alexander provides an impassioned monograph arguing what we - if we're to be honest with ourselves - already know: the criminal justice system in this country has systemic problems that make it racially biased. And our criminal justice system legitimizes ongoing and permanent discrimination against those that fall into its hands. In effect, we have created a new set of structures that mimic many of the effects of Jim Crow.
What I found particularly compelling was Alexander's analysis of the impact of the War on Drugs, and how a "public consensus was constructed by political and media elites that drug crime is black and brown." Furthermore, court decisions have essentially given a green light to racial profiling. And what is especially fantastic about this is that African Americans engage in illegal drug behavior at no greater rate than Caucasians. And yet they are caught and punished so far disproportionately that it becomes a joke.
I might have been precisely the target audience for this book. And yet, in reading, I sometimes got caught up with things that took away from her argument. Like following footnotes to discover sources, and seeing how often the reference was another scholarly work, not the primary source itself. (And then in one case spending a whole bunch of time online trying to look up old Congressional Records in order to figure out whether the cited source attributed a quote to the correct person.) This made me cranky, which seems particularly unfair of me when you consider how few works of popular scholarship offer footnotes whatsoever. But this, I fear, is just who I am.
Give this book a shot. It broadened and deepened my understanding of the incarceration crisis in this country, and made me wonder how taking voting rights away from felons isn't a violation of the Fifteenth Amendment. And so on. Excellent food for thought.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
