Another Set of Reviews, Quick and Dirty

I love using the phrase "quick and dirty," although I have to be careful when. Not everyone knows it comes from the early days of computers, which were also the early days of space flight. If you don't have time to do everything just right, you figure out what matters and what doesn't, ignore what doesn't matter, and meet your deadline. The result might not be perfectly elegant, but it will work.

Hence, the briefest of reviews:

In the Time of Five Pumpkins - Alexander McCall Smith: These books are the ultimate cozily gentle mysteries, with familiar characters, a soothing delivery, occasional surprises and twists, and plenty of quiet humor. I have read them all and I love them. A full review is not possible; they are simply too pleasant, familiar, and delightful to sink into and enjoy.

Matrix - Lauren Groff: Taking its inspiration from history, Groff's novel begins as young Marie de France is banished from the royal court to become the prioress of a poor abbey. Too everyone's surprise, including her own, Marie thrives there -- learning to navigate the personalities of the sisters, deal courageously with the townsfolk and those who would "manage" her authority, discover her strengths, and confront her own limits and weaknesses. Groff is a master at finding a contemporary viewpoint that illuminates historical situations.

The Rural Life - Verlyn Klinkenborg: Organized by month, this small volume reflects the passage of time amidst the changes of the natural year as they play out across various landscapes. Klinkenborg has a beautiful eye for details and an economy of expression that enlighten and never interferes. Whether he's writing about Iowa, the American West, or upstate New York, you will feel like you've been there.  

The Home Place: Memoirs of a Colored Man's Love Affair with Nature - J. Drew Lanham: Lanham mixes memories of growing up close to the land in South Carolina with episodes from his career as a professor of ecology. Along the way he examines how the forces of slavery shaped his family and how his racial identity continues to affect him as a black man in a predominantly white field. This is a serious book with serious themes, infused with a love of nature and the outdoors, and affection for Lanham's family and colleagues who join him there. 

Infinite Country - Patricia Engel: This multigenerational novel follows Talia, a young Colombian girl on the lam from a juvenile correctional facility, as she tries to travel home to safety and the plane ticket that her father has waiting for her, so she can join her mother in America. Along the way we learn how her parents changed from teenaged lovers to a husband and wife divided by immigration, opportunity, and culture. Talia and her family bring life to the challenges faced by the undocumented every day.  

Note: These books all count towards the Mount TBR Reading Challenge. Which I failed miserably, by the way.

An Epic Translation

And by "translation" I mean that Lin-Manuel Miranda pulling his legendary Broadway musical Hamilton from this book is a true mark of his genius!

I don't usually read biographies and am not qualified to judge whether Ron Chernow's Alexander Hamilton is a good one, but the reviewers and critics say it's excellent, including The New York Times Book Review and Kirkus Reviews. It covers Hamilton's rise and fall in great detail, befitting a man who is perhaps our most interesting Founding Father. The arc of his life is truly extraordinary.

Knowing most of what I know about Hamilton from Miranda's musical, I found the details rather dry. I most enjoyed the excerpts from Hamilton's own writings and letters, and various perspectives offered by his contemporaries; they were by far the most interesting part. This reflects my own view more than Chernow's skill: biography isn't my cup of tea or -- since we're in America -- coffee.  

Clearly, Chernow's research was extensive and that must have been great fun for him; it's a secret fantasy of mine to be a well-known researcher and arrange access to certain original works of art or history. To hold the actual texts in your hands must be an extraordinary feeling! 

Chernow sought out the specifics and included them in this large volume. Miranda made those details come alive and sing -- literally. I'm not sure any source material could compete with that.

Excerpt:

Hamilton was frank about his financial travails. George Washington Parke Custis, the president's adopted grandson, told how Hamilton appeared at the presidential mansion after tendering his resignation. Washington's staff was there when Hamilton smilingly entered. "Congratulate me, my good friends," he announced, "for I am no longer a public man. The president has at length consented to accept my resignation and I am once more a private citizen." Hamilton, noting their dismay, explained, "I am not worth exceeding five hundred dollars in the world. My slender fortune and the best years of my life have been devoted to the service of my adopted country. A rising family hath its claims." Hamilton then picked up a slim volume on the table and turned it over in his hands. "Ah, this is the constitution," he said. "Now, mark my words. So long as we are a young and virtuous people, this instrument will bind us together in mutual interests, mutual welfare, and mutual happiness. But when we become old and corrupt, it will bind us no longer." This queasy view of America's future guaranteed that Hamilton wouldn't just bask in the afterglow of his Treasury success and would return to politics.   

Note: This book counts towards the Mount TBR Reading Challenge.

Fathers and Sons

I suspect that Amitabha Bagchi's novel, Half the Night is Gone, would benefit from a second reading. So many events, so many relationships, so many big themes are packed and layered into this relatively small volume that I hardly know where to begin. 

At its simplest, this is a story of fathers and sons. Famous writer Vishwanath begins writing again, spurred by the death of his son in an accident. His new novel focuses on the wealthy head of a family business, known as Lala Motichand ("lala" being a term of respect) and his three sons. One son is suited for the family business, one son prefers poetry, and the third son is a schoolteacher who is kept on the edge of the family because of his illegitimacy. Vishwanath decides to tell the story of Lala Motichand's personal servant and his son, as well. 

It's particularly interesting that in this male-oriented world, women play significant roles while remaining under the domination of the patriarchy. A young woman seeks education, a servant maneuvers her way into unquestioned authority, a widow succeeds at petty household politics. These secondary stories add complexity, while illustrating that these dramas take place in the background of the men's stories.     

The similarities and differences between the fathers and sons make up the main tension in the novel within a novel, bringing up themes of family, childhood, loyalty, and personal fulfillment, all set within Indian culture. It's a dizzying, dazzling assembly, dense with correspondences and possibilities.     

Excerpt:

And while the entire household and the ashram, including Kamala, busied themselves in preparing for his wedding, the hero of the drama they were staging, the centrepiece of this magnificent tableau, the groom Diwanchand, sat around his rooms listlessly, turning one book over then another but unable to attend to any of the various readings he had set himself because whenever he did manage to get to his desk either his sister-in-law would send a tailor to him to fit him out for yet another suit of clothes or his brother or his father would send for him because he was needed to come along to an associate's house where an invitation was to be delivered. Although he did each of these things without protest . . . he found himself drifting further and further away, feeling more and more like a counter that was being moved around a board to which it didn't belong, by players who didn't care.

Note: This book counts toward the Color Coded Reading Challenge and the Mount TBR Reading Challenge. 

Lessons from a Sage

Imagine you had the opportunity to sit down with a famous choreographer, maybe over a cup or two of tea, and casually talk about how she got started, how she likes to work with others, the pros and cons of collaboration, and some of the famous people she's worked with  . . . and you'll have the flavor of this book, Twyla Tharp's The Collaborative Habit: Life Lessons for Working Together.

Any one of these topics would be fascinating and having them all together, liberally sprinkled with stories about famous musicians and dancers, is a feast for the reader. What does Tharp require from her assistants? (Practically everything; she herself says she is demanding.) How does she get to know her dancers during the early rehearsals? (Have them bring in some of their favorite Latin dance music.) What's her "secret weapon" in collaborations, including with Elvis Costello and Jerome Robbins? (Being able to make them laugh.)

All this in Tharp's distinctive voice. She translates very well to the page; her writing style mirrors her speaking style and although the subject matter is often serious -- we're talking about major art being made here -- her words are precise, generous, and chatty. Her wisdom applies in any arena, not just on the stage. It's like being at her elbow, learning from the master, so you can apply it yourself to whatever you want to be good at.

Excerpt:

Movement was a great communication zone for us. I spoke no Russian. [Baryshnikov's] English was minimal. We mostly communicated through movement. If I needed to talk to explain a point, his language circuits would shut down and he'd go . . .  inside. We needed a translator but there was none.

A language barrier? Not really. We had a common language -- we were dancers with similar work habits. We were both used to technique class in the morning and then rehearsal following that. Daily. Annually. That is ultimately what allowed us to work together.    

See more about their collaboration (including some of the dancing) here: 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=utk6lA-caqM     

Note: This book counts toward the Color Coded Reading Challenge and the Mount TBR Reading Challenge. 

David and Demon

Demon Copperhead, Barbara Kingsolver's latest novel, was a 2-for-1 because I started reading it by reading David Copperfield, the book that inspired it. Such is the legacy of being an English major. I like to know the history behind things, where they fit into the literary patterns of the past, what to expect from them in terms of correspondences and reworkings. For me, it adds to the fun.

I also don't mind knowing the ending before I reach it -- unless maybe it's a surprise ending with a big twist at the finish. Then, well, maybe. Many a time I've tried to explain that that the classic fade of "You'll have to read it yourself to find out what happens . . . " means nothing to me. Tell me everything, up front, so I know where I am! 

Anyway, I'm late to the party on David Copperfield and was happy to catch up. Dickens is a pleasure, despite the Victorian flourishes and his tendency to use many words when only a few will do. He's also occasionally a little sweet for my taste. (Gasp! Have I become a modernist?) However, a classic is a classic and I added it to my Done Read list in 2024.

Kingsolver's adaptation of the plot points and characters from Dickens is exceptionally well-done. I learned a lot about the dire circumstances of Appalachian life, including abusive homes, foster homes, oxycontin addiction, meth labs, extreme poverty, exploitation, and complicated family circumstances. It's Victorian London all over again, teeming with troubles and amazing characters trying to make ends meet with varying degrees of success. Most of the Dickens sweetness has been sanded off by the grit of modern life.

Demon Copperhead, nicknamed for his fiery red hair, endures all of the trials the world can throw at him, and somehow still manages to maintain a measure of goodness, character, and grace. Like David Copperfield, he is the hero you want to root for, full of sass and vulnerability, sometimes lost, sometimes on track, always following his moral compass but zigzagging along the way.

Excerpt:

She saw me. Raised up her hand trowel like she was fixing to throw it. "Go away!"

I was frozen.

"I said get. No boys here!" She started chopping the air with her weapon.

If I opened the gate and took a step towards her, which I did, there was nothing brave about it. Just no choice. "I'm sorry," I said. "I'm your grandson."

She lowered the trowel. She had those wraparound sunglasses that old people wear, and she took them off. Underneath was another pair of thick glasses that made her eyes look like swimming fish. Green like mine, milky, surprised. She stood there looking me over from my busted shoe to the top of my wiry red head. Especially that.

"Oh, lord," she said. And sat down on the ground. 

Note: This book counts toward the Color Coded Reading Challenge and the Mount TBR Reading Challenge.  

Two Lovelies

In her novel His Lovely Wife, Elizabeth Dewberry presents what my witchy friends might call a "woo woo" experience as something that doesn't seem all that far-fetched. And as anyone who's even a little bit "woo woo" can tell you -- or in fact, as any scientist can tell you -- the far reaches of experience and the far reaches of science can be remarkably similar in ways that we're unable to explain.

We meet Ellen Baxter as the quintessential "trophy wife," gorgeous enough to be briefly mistaken for Princess Diana when arriving at the Paris Ritz. Ellen has her moment in the intrusive glare of the photographers' flashes, but is released from their scrutiny as soon as the mistake becomes apparent. She's in town with her brilliant, stodgy husband while he attends a conference.      

The next morning brings a flood of breaking news of Diana's death. (I remember very well awakening to the news myself -- August 1997 -- and being unexpectedly tearful in front of the television. Diana had her faults, as we all do, but managed to be a beacon of kindness and heart in the midst of all she endured. Her legacy lives on.)

Ellen anticipates shopping, a tour of Notre Dame, and a nice lunch somewhere. Instead, she goes to the crash site, finds an unconventional photograph of Diana, and meets the photographer who apparently left it there. On impulse, she takes the photograph with her; from then on, she hears Diana's voice in her head and experiences some of Diana's emotions and physical feelings in her own body. This confluence becomes a powerful tool for Ellen to gain insight into Diana's life and, significantly, into her own.

This is a wonderful novel. Once we accept the premise that the italics in the text represent Diana's voice and make peace with the idea of treating a real person as a character in a novel, Ellen's journey of re-self-discovery grips our attention. Ellen's grown accustomed to being an afterthought, a mere accessory to her successful husband, hardly anything more. If we have a shred of that feeling of erasure in our own experience, we will relate. With Diana as a guide and commentator and Ellen as a companion, we seek our own re-self-discovery. And isn't that what literature is for?   

Excerpt:

And the next morning, I'm back in our room from the site of her fatal crash, lying in bed watching TV and thinking about calling my mother, and I'm still wishing I'd thanked Diana for that.

I think, -- Maybe that -- all of it, some of it -- would have meant something to her. Maybe if I'd told her she gave a lot of women who felt like failures the courage to hold their heads up high, she would have taken it with her to her grave a few hours later.

And she says, Thank you, Ellen.

I sit up. It hasn't occurred to me that she could hear my thoughts.

I think, -- You're welcome.

That's not how it felt, though, she says.

Then she's quiet.

I think to myself, -- Wow.

And then to her, -- What did it feel like?  

Nothing in Common, and Yet . . .

It would seem that I have nothing in common with the title character of Chaim Potok's novel, My Name is Asher Lev -- and yet I find myself powerfully moved by his story.   

Asher Lev is a Jewish child whose family follows a a strict set of religious principles and requirements while he is growing up in Brooklyn. He is also an artist who draws and paints at every opportunity, even when it gets him into trouble. His drive to express himself coalesces into the title phrase, a way of asserting his identity, even his existence as a unique, creative, independent person. These two selves -- the observant Jew and the budding artist -- are often at odds, leading Asher Lev to feel even more individualized, more alienated,  from his parents and community. 

Asher's determination to honor his artistic impulse creates a rift in his family; they cannot understand, for example, that his desire to view paintings of nudes and crucifixions is part of his artistic education. The conflict between religion and art drives much of the action in the novel. While Asher attempts to find a way for the two to coexist, it's apparent that as he matures as an artist, he will ultimately have to choose between them. The fact that he is very talented makes this choice even more difficult.

Throughout the novel, Asher's desire for realizing his destiny spoke to me. Perhaps this is because everyone -- artistic or otherwise -- must discover and assert their identity to the world, and then stand fast against the disapproval and occasionally the hostility of those challenged by the simple act of asserting that identity. 

The common experience of choosing who you are lies at the heart of this novel and imbues it with a broader meaning, one that transcends the details of Asher's life and speaks to every reader.

Excerpt:

I saw a picture in the Times the following day of Stalin lying in his coffin. Behind the coffin were mounds of flowers. I could not take my eyes off the picture. This was the man who had killed tens of millions of people. Now he lay in his mustache and uniform in front of a mountain of flowers, dead, as dead as the millions he had slain, as dead as Yudel Krinsky's wife and children. I could not stop staring at the picture of Stalin dead in his coffin. 

I went over to Yudel Krinsky's store that Monday and helped him wait on some customers. We were alone for a few minutes between customers and he said to me, glancing around quickly, "The others who follow him will be just like him. There are many Stalins in Russia."

I helped him stack packages of paper. I was beginning to understand the differences between grades of paper. Often now I could tell the weight and quality of a piece of paper by holding it in my hands.

Note: This book counts toward the Color Coded Reading Challenge and the Mount TBR Reading Challenge.  

Florida, Long Ago

Many years ago -- about 10,000 years, to be specific -- the peninsula of Florida was inhabited by a plethora of animals and plants, and by tribes of early humans who made their living by hunting and gathering. David O'Connor's novel The Beast and the Silent Blue brings this time to life through woven storylines of mentorship, tribal politics, and the appearance of the Beast, with many indications that it is the last of its kind.    

Another intriguing aspect of this novel is its geographical connection to the area we now call Paynes Prairie, a wilderness preserve near Gainesville, Florida, where bison and wild horses still roam.   

Through the eyes of Old One, a hunter whose prime is past, we learn the history of these people. Only the children still look to him for guidance, but it's clear that he has both knowledge and wisdom that surpass the current leaders, and especially the current leader, The Strong One, who seems to revere power and the exercise of force above all else. Old One feels he is becoming a burden to the tribe, because an injury has left him unable to hunt with the others. But he stays on the periphery to teach the children, contribute small game when he can, and keep watch on an ominous situation: The Strong One has his eye on one of Old One's students, a girl who is not receptive to The Strong One's intentions. Old One hopes to protect her but he's not sure how to accomplish that.

The appearance of the Beast -- or rather, the calls and tracks of the Beast -- brings a crisis of a different kind to the village, accompanied by the appearance of a competing band of early humans called The Strangers. Only the Old One's memory and cunning give the village a chance of success.  

I have long resisted pre-historic novels, but this tale won me over. I felt I was learning a tremendous amount about pre-historic life in Florida. If it was difficult for me to fully "suspend my disbelief" and sink fully into the story, that's on me. It's engrossing, fast-paced, intriguing, and mysterious. Old One's tale of late-life usefulness and understanding keeps us reading, reflects his time, and touches us all.

Excerpt:

[Old One] sniffed to scrutinize the smell. His heart thumped in his chest as if he were actually seeing the animal charge rather than only anticipating its presence. The odor was unmistakable. It was not the familiar smell of deer or the rarer peppery smell of cat. It hurled him back in time to the small child at the core of what he had become. Struggling to stand, he took the risk of exposure.

He stepped to the side and leaned out to check the blind spot of the tree's crown. It, too, was empty. But the smell set afire his awareness. And there was the disturbed ground, the uprooted scallions, a moist lump of excrement. It was alive. It was somewhere near. The Beast had returned.   

Note: This book counts toward the Color Coded Reading Challenge and the Mount TBR Reading Challenge.

Music and Grit

Jennifer Egan's A Visit from the Goon Squad is one of those novels where saying whether you like it or don't like it seems beside the point. It inhabits its own world, which will continue to exist outside of your personal opinion.

Bennie Salazar, a record company executive, and his assistant, Sasha, provide the throughline for the novel, which shifts its focus to various characters (all tangentially related through work or life to Bennie or Sasha or both) and moves back and forth through time. This shifting gives the novel an elusive quality, mimicking the was memories can bend and twist until we aren't quite sure of the sequence of events or who was present at the time. 

This is no walk down memory lane. The punk scene impacts the complicated lives of the characters, some of whom struggle with mental illness and criminal behavior, all of whom wind up compromised in one way or another. It's gritty. It's sometimes intense. The wide range of characters and their quick entry and exit creates a kaleidoscope effect that I occasionally found difficult to follow. 

This map helped (click to enlarge, so you can read the connections that the arrows represent -- tessiegirl did a great job on this!):

Ultimately, though, the novel is about the passage of time and how that affects all the characters -- and by extension, the reader. The music industry, with its emphasis on youth and novelty, accelerates what we all confront, sooner or later: our own mortality and the truth of what we have done with our lives. 

We may be busy with our daily lives, but brute-like time stalks all of us. There's no escaping the visit, when it finally arrives.

Excerpt:

[Stephanie] was thinking of the old days, as she and Bennie now called them -- not jut pre-Crandale but premarriage, preparenthood, premoney, pre-hard drug renunciation, preresponsibility of any kind, when they were still kicking around the Lower East Side with Bosco, going to bed after sunrise, turning up at stangers' apartments, having sex in quasi public . . . because none of it was serious. They were young and lucky and strong -- what did they have to worry about? If they didn't like the result, they could go back and start again. And now Bosco was sick, hardly able to move, feverishly planning his death. Was this outcome a freak aberration from natural laws, or was it normal -- a thing they should have seen coming? Had they somehow brought it on?

Jules put his arm around her. . . . 

"Sure, everything is ending," Jules said, "but not yet."    

Note: This book counts toward the Color Coded Reading Challenge and the Mount TBR Reading Challenge.

So Contemporary

I enjoy works that fill in the gaps left in other narratives, or tell the same story from another character's perspective. The first time I encountered this was in Tom Stoppard's play, Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead. It's basically the off-stage action from Hamlet, with some existential and absurdist twists and turns. I thought the idea itself was inspired and the execution of it a delight.

From there it's a short leap to: What was Penelope's story while Odysseus was taking his roundabout 10-year journey home from the Trojan war (The Penelopiad by Margaret Atwood)? What was Circe's life like before and after Odysseus's visit (Circe by Madeline Miller)? What did Jim, the enslaved runaway from Huckleberry Finn, think about their adventures (James by Percival Everett)? There are a number of other novels that use this method (a "best of" list here, if you're interested); I'm not sure if it requires less creativity or more creativity to write using this format.  

I thought this kind of storytelling was a recent idea, and Jean Rhys' novel, Wide Sargasso Sea, published in 1966, may be the first of this sort. I would love to know if that's true. Stoppard's play was first performed that same year -- so perhaps there was something in the air in 1966. How fun it would be if they knew each other! Maybe Rhys (real name: Ella Gwendoline Rees Williams) and Stoppard attended a workshop together or met at a party. That would be a wonderful "gap filling" tale (true or imagined!).  

Rhys' novel provides the backstory of the "mad" first Mrs. Rochester from Jane Eyre. It's a prequel, really (another recent form), and explores themes of racism, slavery, colonialism, and sexism through the life events of Antoinette Cosway. Antoinette grows up in Jamaica in a way that feels between worlds: her family benefitted from colonialism and slavery and was thrown into financial distress when slavery was abolished in 1833. Antoinette's widowed mother is Creole, not white, and though she retains some of her aristocratic ways, it's financially impossible to maintain the trappings of wealth. It becomes increasingly uncomfortable and even dangerous for them to live among the freed and understandably resentful native-born Jamaicans. The feeling of gathering menace is palpable in this section, narrated by Antoinette as a child. Tragic events loosen the mother's grip on sanity and Antoinette is left alone in the world, essentially among strangers.  

When Antoinette is older, her marriage to Rochester is arranged, but the difference in economic status and her family background of mental illness, combined with his obvious lack of character, give him leverage to abuse her mentally and emotionally. This section is alternately narrated by Antoinette and Rochester, so we have a window into his cruel psyche. He renames Antoinette "Bertha" and flaunts his unfaithfulness to her. Although Antoinette is initially desperate to regain his trust and love, her efforts backfire. Ultimately Rochester takes her to England, away from the tropical countryside she loves and the only home she's ever known.

Once in England, Antoinette's circumstances grow even worse. She tells how Rochester confines her to the attic, essentially imprisoning her in the upper floor of his mansion. She has a paid companion, more jailer than friend, and her isolation causes her to become more and more detached from reality. Is she mad because of some inherited weakness from her mixed blood, as Rochester maintains, or is it his dehumanization of her that causes her madness? It seems to me that anyone in such circumstances would lose their sanity. As a last straw, Antoinette pleads for help from her stepbrother in Jamaica, but he refuses to interfere with her husband's rights over her. Antoinette begins stealing the key while her keeper sleeps and roaming the house at night. Eventually, as Jane Eyre fans will remember, she burns the place down. 

This novel has strong elements of the Gothic -- Rhys definitely creates a dramatic, sinister atmosphere, and also portrays the lush beauty of the Jamaican countryside. The gap between Jamaica and cold, gray England is as wide as the vast Atlantic ocean that separates them. Even more deeply, not belonging is a horror. Racism is an exile. Powerlessness is shackles and chains. Dominion is an outrage. Perhaps, Rhys seems to suggest, a purifying fire is needed to move forward from what has gone before.

Excerpt:

But now I turned too. The house was burning, the yellow-red sky was like sunset and I knew that I would never see Coulibri again. Nothing would be left, the golden ferns and the silver ferns, the orchids, the ginger lilies and the roses, the rocking-chairs and the blue sofa, the jasmine and the honeysuckle . . . . When they had finished, there would be nothing left but blackened walls and the mounting stone. That was always left. That could not be stolen or burned.

Then, not so far off, I saw Tia and her mother and I ran to her, for she was all that was left of my life as it had been. We had eaten the same food, slept side by side, bathed in the same river. As I ran, I thought, I will live with Tia and I will be like her. Not to leave Coulibri. Not to go. Not. When I was close I saw the jagged stone in her hand but I did not see her throw it. I did not feel it either, only something wet, running down my face. I looked at her and I saw her face crumple up as she began to cry. We stared at each other, blood on my face, tears on hers. It was as if I saw myself. Like in a looking-glass.

Growing Up Poor

Betty Smith's novel A Tree Grows in Brooklyn simultaneously relates the childhood of a smart, resourceful girl and provides a snapshot of impoverished life in early 20th Century New York. It reads like a memoir, shining with the glowy protections of childhood, then seguing into the grittier, cooler light of approaching maturity and the adult responsibilities that accompany growing up.  

Francie is 11 in 1912, when the story opens. She's a dreamy, observant, mostly solitary child who likes reading but also participates in the life of the neighborhood, which includes activities like scavenging for rags, paper, deposit bottles, and other junk that she can sell to the junk man to earn a few pennies of spending money. Katie, her mother, earns their lodging as the janitor for the building. Her father, Johnny, is an alcoholic who occasionally works as a singing waiter and on his good days, retains his Irish charm and zest for living. It's a hard life for all of them and yet they bear up under it with determination and grace. They are Dickensian without the sentimentality: an American analog rather than a copy.

Also reminiscent of Dickens, Francie's world is populated by a host of secondary characters and their lives and choices. Sometimes their purpose is comic relief. Sometimes their purpose is providing contrast with Francie's family. Sometimes their purpose is demonstrating that there are many ways of coping with the challenges of Francie's world. Whatever their social or economic status, these characters demonstrate how to rise -- or fail to rise -- to the occasion.          

Katie, in particular, bears the responsibilities of the family, even more so after Johnny sickens and dies. Katie's insistence on principles and the better things for her family that come within her grasp set the stage for their progress. In her pragmatic way, she encourages Francie's desire for learning and talent for writing, and Francie progresses from a better school to a better job to pursuing her education: the family can't afford to send her to high school, but at age 17 Francie manages to pass the admissions exam and enroll in college. For Katie herself, her virtue leads to an advantageous marriage. Despite their poverty, each surviving member of the family has the grounding and the goodness to move ahead in the world. 

The particularly positive approach to the immigrant "American Dream" gives this novel a retro, burnished quality; it treats even shockingly bad events with a discretion that reflects the original publication date of 1943. There are real dangers: The junk man pays extra to the girls who let him pinch their cheek. A music teacher asks Francie, but not her brother, to play in bare feet. A rapist lurks in the stairwell and grabs Francie before Katie intervenes (with a gun!). Francie's first love almost talks her into bed, then abandons her when she refuses; her heart is broken, but things could have been worse. All these events are viewed from a distance, and they do not define Francie; they are only part of her story. By the end of the novel, Francie is leaving Brooklyn behind, heading for college and the rest of her life. Growing up poor is also only part of her story.   

Excerpt:

Some people called it the Tree of Heaven. No matter where its seed fell, it made a tree which struggled to reach the sky. It grew in boarded-up lots and out of neglected rubbish heaps and it was the only tree that grew out of cement. It grew lushly, but only in the tenements districts.

You took a walk on a Sunday afternoon and came to a nice neighborhood, very refined. You saw a small one of those trees through the iron gate leading to someone's yard and you knew that soon that section of Brooklyn would get to be a tenement district. The tree knew. It came there first. Afterwards, poor foreigners seeped in and the quiet old brownstone houses were hacked up into flats, feather beds were pushed out on the window sills to air and the Tree of Heaven flourished. That was the kind of tree it was. It liked poor people.

Photo: Annamarie Smith, bugwood.com

Note: This book counts toward the Color Coded Reading Challenge and the Mount TBR Reading Challenge.   

Reviews, Quick and Dirty

"Quick and dirty" is a hold-over phrase from the early days of space flight, I think. When there isn't time to do something to perfection, cut a few corners and get it done however you can -- your solution may be "quick and dirty" but at least there will be a solution! 

The first 9 books on this list were part of the Color Coded Reading Challenge. Add the remaining 3 books to make 12 that satisfy the Mount TBR Reading Challenge. I will absolutely be signing up again for both of these challenges in 2025.

Here we go! 

The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier & Clay - Michael Chabon: A rollicking adventure that includes escape artistry, comic books, superheroes, and the American Dream -- and also creativity, friendship, ambition, success, surprises, and self-knowledge. It's a heady mix with an appropriately comic-book flavor. Thoroughly enjoyable!    

Milkman - Anna Burns: I cannot imagine living this life: In a city at war with itself, the unnamed protagonist cannot live an apolitical life. Every action becomes subject to scrutiny: fodder for gossip and for interpretation about which side she favors, based on where she shops or her route home. When a local paramilitary leader begins to pursue her, unprompted and unwelcomed, the scrutiny intensifies and becomes dangerous. The claustrophobia in this novel is palpable -- as is the yearning simply to live a private life, free of social judgment. Not a pleasant read, but very worthwhile.

The Alchemist - Paulo Coelho: Seeking a treasure he's seen in a dream, Santiago embarks on a journey that includes bad luck, good luck, beginner's luck, several different occupations, various mentors and teachers, desert travels and dangers, and unexpected love. This fable has plenty of cryptic lessons to be decoded and a through-line of choosing and pursuing one's personal legend. I'm sure lots of people love this book. It's a little too New Agey for me.   

The Night Watchman - Louise Erdrich: Erdrich weaves the storylines of a village together, blending Native American culture, essential political activities, and personal challenges -- a difficult factory job, a missing sister, finding one's way in the world -- with a masterful touch. Erdrich's talent for giving her characters depth and motivation brings them to life on the page. As a bonus, the night watchman character is based on her grandfather.    

Half Wild - Robin MacArthur: A bracing, uplifting collection of stories that transcends the narrow, gritty poverty of small-town New England to reach for life's enduring truths. Parties, drugs, run-down farms, and lots of smoking, but also a strong sense of place, the love of the land, the security of family, the possibility of a better future. Robert Frost it isn't, but its themes are just as important, just as real.  

Please Look After Mom - Kyung-Sook Shin: Mom has gone missing. The children know that Mom got separated from their father in the busy Seoul train station, but that's all they know. Told in the voices of two of the children, the father, and finally Mom herself, the novel explores certain events of their Korean family's life, as Mom's disappearance prompts a reevaluation of the shifting relationships of love, duty, and sacrifice between them.       

The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao - Junot Diaz: Once you realize the title is ironic, you know what you need to know. Poor nerdy Oscar, always out of step. The novel is panoramic and has its humorous moments, but most of it is suffused with longing, not belonging. To live always on the outside, looking in, encapsulates the immigrant experience in a way that's viscerally unsettling. Sprightly to read, but oh so sad.

Let Us Descend - Jesmyn Ward: In this novel of slavery, Ward includes the expansive interior world of the woman Annis, who is sold, who works and suffers, who sees her white masters and mistresses clearly, who tries to help her fellow slaves when she can. Her inner self remains buoyed by the memories of her African mother and grandmother and her awareness that the world itself is alive with spirits who help or challenge. Ward's evocation of this animism is astounding. The darkness of this story ripples with the light of being embedded in a living world.    

The Stone Diaries - Carol Shields: In the form of a diary, the fictional autobiography of Daisy Goodwill spans a particularly change-filled time, beginning with her birth in 1905. She passes through various female roles: daughter, wife, mother, working woman, widow, and elder, never fully analyzing or understanding them in the context of history; they are just her life. Shields avoids analysis, allowing the reader to form opinions that Daisy herself cannot or will not, and her clean, crisp writing style is a pleasure to read. 

The Vaster Wilds - Lauren Groff: A magnificent tale that I have recommended again and again to my bookish friends. Groff's language is both period -- evoking a time of settlers, forts, and brutal hardships in early colonial America -- and modern as she weaves survival, agency, self-discovery, resourcefulness, awareness, and surrender through the story of one small girl's escape from servitude into the wilderness. A tour de force from a talented author that will stay with you long after you read the last page.     

Pocketful of Poseys - Thomas Reed: Mom and Dad Posey were hippies. Their children are decidedly not. There's a lot to learn when Mom leaves them her last request: to mingle the parental ashes and sprinkle them in various significant locations around the world. Each sprinkling event has a letter to accompany it, revealing more and more of the parents' lives, even as the odyssey's challenges and successes draw the siblings and their own families more tightly together. Far from macabre, this novel's mysteries unfold slowly and sometimes hilariously. By the end, we feel like we know them. 

March - Geraldine Brooks: While the lives of Little Women unfold in the detail provided by Louisa May Alcott and known by practically everyone, the days of their beloved but absent father have remained unknown until now. Brooks' novel fills in those gaps with robust historical research and a generous imagination. Mr. March's faith, convictions, and marriage vows are tested by his experiences in the South during the Civil War, so far from the genteel, intellectual theories and pursuits of Concord. A fitting bookend to a beloved tale that injects a leavening dose of reality.  

Finished!

It's only mid-July and I have read all the books for the two challenges I joined this year. Some of them were really, really good. Now to do the reviews!   

Progress

The year is not quite half over and I have already finished reading the books for one of my two challenges. Yay for me!

The books are doing double duty for the other challenge, so I have only a few more "assignments" before I have finished the reading for that one, too.

Then, of course, comes the reviewing. That's when the real work begins. (Reading is by far the most interesting part. Just saying.)

At least I have half the year to get all the reviews posted. And I have set the bar pretty low: 12 books total to read and review, then I'm on my own for the rest of the year's reading. Yay for me (again)! 

Changed in Florida

Ryan Rivas' novella Lizard People is one of those books that will stay active in my mind long after the reading and reviewing are done. Part science fiction, part thriller, part psychological study, its immediacy draws us into the story of a narrator who believes he's a lizard person. As we're gaining our footing on what's happening -- are we supposed to believe he really is a lizard person? is he delusional? he talks about taking his dewlap out of his shirt collar, but he could be hallucinating that, too -- the action accelerates. It's all we can do to keep up with the relevant bits of family history, therapy sessions, unreliable allies, and unexpected events as they tumble toward an oddly satisfying conclusion. 

Rivas' tone and delivery are exceptionally well-pitched and the entire story exudes Florida atmosphere. This is a brief read that one could return to again and again. I think I'm missing a lot of what lurks below the glossy surface, as explicitly set out in 3 pages of "therapist's notes" included verbatim following a key scene. A literature classroom or a high-level book club would be a fine location to unpack this work in detail. This might also be (in a better political climate) an awesome book to teach in high school: short, interesting, and with plenty to say and lots of room for interpretation. References to Kafka's The Metamorphosis would be just the beginning.

Excerpt:

I replayed Karen's voicemail and sat on the windowsill above the heater to ponder her words. Karen knew my secret and accepted me despite it. She believed therapy was dangerous and feared it would change me. She did not want me to change. She loved me. I listened again and again, moving between phone and sill, until the facts of the matter accumulated and resolved into a conclusion: Karen was a lizard person, too.

I didn't know how to know if I was in love, though I wondered if it mattered. Mate selection was the female's domain. I did know that.  

Note: This book counts toward the Color Coded Reading Challenge.  

The Letdown

I'm sorry to report that J.G. Farrell's The Singapore Grip did not live up to my expectations, such as they were. A while back, I loved another Farrell book, The Seige of Krishnapur, so I figured this might be similarly good. 

Unfortunately, that was not the case. Farrell's send-up of colonial British obliviousness wears thin long before the 550+ pages do: silly situations, characters I didn't care about (they didn't seem real to me), and long interior monologues about topics like the League of Nations. There are regular flashes of humor and irony, but they wear thin in their sameness. Even the build-up to the mysterious "Singapore Grip" of the title falls flat when the meaning is finally revealed. It's all to the service of Farrell's larger theme, and his colonialism trilogy (this is the third book). But holy moly, how much of this is a reader supposed to take?

Against the backdrop of 1939 Singapore, Walter Blackett keeps his stiff upper lip intact while contemplating the future of his rubber business, his company's jubilee celebration, and the ruin of (or perhaps partnership with) his competition. He's also trying to marry off his daughter Joan, deal with the death of his business partner, and survive the poor business acumen of his partner's son, who stands to inherit a share of the business. These central dramas are filled out with a cast of supporting diplomats, military officers, and family members. Oh, and the Japanese are conducting a bombing campaign, soon to be followed by a ground campaign.  

It's a big mess. I kept wishing the Japanese would just invade, already.

Excerpt:

Walter left the Major and was about to join his former partner when he realized that events elsewhere were beginning to take a disastrous course. One of the staff officers had just spoken to General Bond, evidently suggesting that they should go and have a look at the tennis, [while] Air-Marshal Babington and his men, clearly having just made a similar decision to visit the Orchid Garden, put in a sudden appearance from behind the hedge. The two rival groups stopped and glared at each other, bristling.

"Oh Lord!" muttered Walter, hurrying to intercept them.

But again he was diverted, this time by an urgent shout from one of the servants. He was just in time to see old Mr. Webb topple out of his chair and roll over on the lawn. At the same moment the first heavy drops of a providential shower of rain began to patter on the lawn and make rings in the pool . . . .

"Oh no! Not a death as well!" groaned Mrs. Blackett to herself. It was one of those days. Her party had not been a success.  

Note: This book counts toward the Color Coded Reading Challenge and the Mount TBR Reading Challenge. 

Role Models for the Second Half

As I get older, I'm working on embracing the process of aging. I admit that it terrifies me to deeply, thoroughly acknowledge that I'm going to die someday (I mean, how is one supposed to do that, exactly?). Sometimes I feel sad when I look in the mirror and read on my skin the results of a life spent in the Southern sunshine. My outdoorsy Florida girl persona remains more or less intact, but it takes a lot more effort to look "natural" these days, if I don't want to frighten people or embarrass myself.

Sharon Blackie's Hagitude: Reimagining the Second Half of Life provides the background on this process, surveying Western culture's myths and archetypes of old women down the ages. The Cailleach of the Gaelic, Grandmother Spider of the indigenous Americans, Baba Yaga of the Slavic peoples -- Blackie's exploration leaps across time and over oceans to identify correspondences and lessons on the knowledge, power, wisdom, and influence of aged women. 

Much of this was new to me, and I found it a little difficult to follow the cross-cultural currents. The chapters are organized by theme, which makes plenty of sense if you can keep up while jumping between cultures. Blackie also weaves in modern stories that recall these archetypes (Doris Lessing, Marilyn French, Margaret Atwood, et al.) and her own personal experiences during the writing of the book. 

There's a lot packed into these pages, and I'm sure I didn't get it all in this first reading. This is a book to keep and read again. It's good to have role models for the second half of the journey, as I hope to stay vibrant until I reach that hard stop at the end. 

Excerpt:

It can be hard to relinquish our identification with society's view of youth as the owner of beauty, hard to turn our backs on its cult of sexuality. But we must. No matter how long we try to postpone the inevitable, our body's ultimate trajectory leaves us no choice. Often, that necessary surrender to the inevitable gives rise to a time of deep grieving -- and it should. Because menopause is an ending of sorts, and it is natural to mourn an ending -- but it is also a new beginning. It is above all a transformation. The late author Ursula K. Le Guin expresses this idea beautifully: "The woman who is willing to make that change must become pregnant with herself, at last. She must bear herself, her third self, her old age." I love this idea, because to me transformation is everything: it's the purpose of life. We women do it all the time, and often in the most cataclysmic of ways. From puberty to pregnancy . . . and then, just when we think it's all over, along comes menopause, to shake us to the core again. . . . We shapeshift all the way up to the end, casting off certainties like a selkie casts off her sealskin.     

Note: This book counts toward the Color Coded Reading Challenge and the Mount TBR Reading Challenge.

A Different Kind of Reading

I love the use of the word "reading" for making sense of Nature's signs. Decoding the meaning of squiggles (words) on a surface and decoding the meaning of what we see outdoors seem fundamentally the same to me. Sometimes I imagine myself in a place without being able to read: the barrage goes silent. Yet we stand in the middle of a vast flow of information every day -- broadcast by Mother Nature -- and don't even know what we're missing.  

These two books are jam-packed with information that will be so very much fun to test and use. Both of them have a Continental flair, requiring a bit of extra effort to translate their details from English and German landscapes, respectively. Overall, though, they lay out an inviting roadmap to increasing our knowledge and awareness of the world around us. 

Tristan Gooley's How to Read Nature: Awaken Your Sense to the Outdoors You've Never Noticed (Taste Direction, Smell Time, Hear the Weather, and More) has a real gift for pointing out subtleties in the landscape with a naturalist's eye and making sense of them. We might not notice that the trees along the edge of a field are a different type than the trees near the center, but once we notice, the next step is to intuit that there's a hidden pond there, or a spring, or at least a depression where water collects, because that kind of tree likes wet feet. You can be sure there's water there. Once you know that, you can imagine the insects (if the tree is a host plant) and perhaps the birds that will visit to eat them and the mammals that will come to eat the fruit or seeds. And on and on. Gooley helpfully provides various exercises -- easy ones, like taking the same 3-minute walk twice, focusing on different things -- to help you practice what he's talking about in real time.

More dense, less focused, Peter Wohlleben's The Weather Detective: Rediscovering Nature's Secret Signs is a treasure trove of naturalist knowledge that is almost overwhelming. Far from just the weather, he also expounds on such varied topics as the seasons, the soil, invasive plants, native species, and (human) night vision. Many of these topics are covered in the context of gardening, which is a different subject than Nature, and no, I'm not going to go down that rabbit hole. Knowing the natural tendencies and larger context of your plants helps you be a better interventionist, planting and designing and tending, and that's all I'm going to say about that. It also helps you appreciate the things you might miss; the soil is alive everywhere and fungi are amazing wherever they're found! The breadth of Wohlleben's knowledge is astounding, and helps me appreciate why people fall in love with science. How delightful it would be to know all these things!

Most importantly to me, if you know things, you can determine the age of a young pine tree by counting its branches. You can determine which direction is south by drawing an imaginary line down the horns of the crescent moon -- or by looking at which way a nearby satellite dish is pointing. You can look at a daisy and tell how old it is, and also whether rain is on the way.

What we are looking at every day is a huge, complex, functioning system that has boundless information to relay to us. We just need to know how to read.  

Excerpt from Gooley:

Almost everything that our senses pick out is eager to tell us a story that will help us more vividly read nature. The constellation Hercules is itching to boast all about the time he slayed a lion, an eagle, and a swan. Those victims will be found in the nearby constellations of Leo, Aquila, and Cygnus. The plant Danish scurvy-grass, which tolerates salt, earned its name after it was eaten by sailors returning home from long periods at sea to satisfy their mortal craving for vitamin C. It has more recently come to colonize the verges of major roads, where we have accidentally created coastal conditions by spreading salt in winter.

Excerpt from Wohlleben:

There's a bright blue sky in April and the fruit trees are blossoming, and yet there are no bees to be seen. The only ones out making the most of the enormous array of flowers on offer are the bumblebees, which set off to collect nectar as soon as the temperature rises above 48 F. The young apple trees promised a rich harvest last spring, but I was seriously worried about the lack of pollinators. . . . Later (now as a more informed beekeeper) I learned that bees only leave the hive at temperatures above 54 F. So, I should have simply waited for warmer weather . . . . [Also, when] it gets warmer outside than the optimal body temperature of 95 F, the bees stay at home. When flying, they generate additional warmth, so that they can quickly overheat. Thus, here we have an indicator of very high temperatures. 

Note: These books count toward the Color Coded Reading Challenge and the Mount TBR Reading Challenge.

Oh, George, Really

If you are craving a breath of sweet New England air with a touch of coolness in it, John P. Marquand's novel The Late George Apley might just be what you're looking for.

The society Marquand depicts echoes Edith Wharton: serious folks of the Boston persuasion, very conscious of propriety, frugality, and sobriety of body and soul. What a burden it must be to move in those circles if your fundamental nature doesn't fit in! And what a stern delight it is to settle into those narrow confines if you do find them comfortable!

That, in a nutshell, is Marquand's story. The novel is framed as a biography commissioned by George Apley's son, to be created through Apley's own writings. The biographer makes clear his reservations about the wisdom of the honest portrayal requested by the son, especially because he was Apley's friend -- but he perseveres, not without the occasional biographer's comment on events that he would have preferred to omit. 

Rather than being tedious, these layers make the novel even more fun. Apley's letters and papers, and occasionally letters written to him, make it clear that many things the old-fashioned Apley was proud of are things that strike a modern reader as regrettable. Attend Harvard to learn to be a gentleman and meet the right people? Let your family wrest you away from the woman you love? Choose a career that puts you in charge of other people's money because your family determines you don't have the business acumen to manage your family's fortune? Marry a suitable woman and benefit from the support (and interference!) of her family? Lament that the "Irish element" is taking over Boston? Pay hush money because you can't stand to face a scandal? Take selected friends on summer trips to a remote island, where you socialize with the guides in the evenings? Sign your grandson up for prep school the day he is born? Apley does all these things, and more.

These ordinary events stay interesting because at every turn the perceptive reader is gently challenged to reality-check Apley's conduct. It's fun, and sometimes it's hilarious. The contrasts had me laughing at every page. In the end, Apley is quite the likeable character, blind spots and foibles included. I was sorry to see him go.

Excerpt:

Dear John:--

My telegram which was sent you last night has already apprised you of the blow which has fallen upon us. It is a bitter blow and not a little shocking in that it reflects in a sense upon the family name. I had feared for some time that your Great-Uncle William's mind was wandering, and now there can be no doubt of it. Without a word of warning to me or to any other member of the family, your great-uncle has married Miss Prentiss, his trained nurse. Of course the gesture is unbecoming enough to excite ridicule, and your mother and I and all of us are deeply upset . . . . That this should have befallen your great uncle, a man of very real importance, is a sad thing. What I worry most about is that he will be remembered ludicrously on account of it. I think I am honest in saying that I do not feel concerned about the financial interest involved . . . .

Yesterday, your mother and I spent the entire day in calling on the family and on friends to say that we were completely delighted and that we had known of this for a long while. This afternoon we have given a tea at Hillcrest for your new Aunt Emeline, which is Miss Prentiss's first name. . . . 

[Biographer's note:] Such embarrassments, which are a part of life, have on the whole caused but little harm. Several former teachers, housekeepers, companions, and nurses have become in this way a recognized part of our society, and one is now pleased to acknowledge Emeline Prentiss Apley in that category. It may be added that all who have known her have come to admire her, and that today the Friday Afternoon Sewing Circle meets monthly at her home. 

[My note: There is no higher distinction in feminine society than hosting the Friday Afternoon Sewing Circle.]

Note: This book counts toward the Color Coded Reading Challenge and the Mount TBR Reading Challenge.  

Empire Fails

As I grow older, I have less tolerance for grit. 

Perhaps I'm growing more discerning -- I'd like to think that -- but maybe I'm just less tolerant of things that don't work for me. Grit is one of them.

I have abandoned Richard Russo's Empire Falls, even though I'm two-thirds of the way through it. Even though it's a Pulitzer winner. Even though I singled it out for inclusion in this year's challenge reading.

I'm sure Russo is lauded for his depictions of the rigors of failing, flailing life in small-town Maine, full of quirky characters and broken dreams. I'm sure he's trying to do something with this collection of characters, but I can't stomach any more of it. Every time I read another page, there's another scene or another line making me want to quit all over again. I can't trust this book. It's always showing me things I'd rather not see.

The only character I find halfway tolerable is the teenage daughter, Tick. (What a great name for a girl, right?) She's an outsider, prone to kindness, mixed up with a brash young tough, tentatively friends with the high school outcast, and I'm pretty sure something awful is going to happen to her and she's going to defend herself with an Exacto knife. I can see it coming, but I don't want to see it.

I feel the same way about Russo's depiction of the cat that belongs to the rich lady who owns more than half the town. Russo never misses an opportunity to include something awful about cats, and I'm sure this particular cat will play a key role in an important moment: Russo goes to great lengths to depict how the cat yowls and scratches, seems to have a vendetta against the main character, Miles, and pretty much terrorizes everyone in town.  

I know just how it feels.