Where'd You Go Bernadette Is a Wonderfully Quirky and Fun Book

Some of my reviews have praised authors for their prose, their character development, their ability to make me think, but this isn't one of those. Where'd You Go Bernadette by Maria Semple is just plain fun. To write some lengthy review analyzing this book would ruin that a bit (or maybe I'm just being lazy).

That being said, I loved the quirky characters, the offbeat story, and the way it is told through snips of emails, letters, official correspondence, and other bits and pieces. You can tell from the beginning that Semple is wildly creative and funny, someone with whom you might want to grab a cocktail and have a good laugh. She is a screenwriter with television credits (Arrested Development, Ellen, Mad About You, and Saturday Night Live) that you make you say, "yes, of course!" after reading this book. If you're looking for something light and fun, pick this up.  

The Submission: How Would You Feel?

A jury gathers at Gracie Mansion in Manhattan to consider blind submissions for a memorial to those who died on 9/11. Two finalists are considered in these opening pages, and the jury makes their selection. Relieved to be finished with the discussions and deliberations, the jury anxiously awaits the big reveal to learn the identity of the architect behind the winning submission. However, the jurors soon learn the ordeal is far from over when the envelope is opened to reveal an American Muslim as the winning architect. 

The Submission considers what happens next. Racism and fear are, of course, pervasive. The winning submission, a garden, is labelled by many (including members of the intellectual elite) as a Muslim garden, and it is viewed by many as a further slap in the face to all Americans. Everyone has a personal stake in the decision of whether this memorial will ever be built. 

As someone who lived in Manhattan on 9/11, I have spent a good deal of energy avoiding literature, movies, retrospectives, and conversations regarding that tragic event. This was a leap out of my comfort zone when I opened the first page. Surprisingly I didn't find the book difficult from a historic perspective, but I think the book did make me feel slightly uncomfortable in other respects (as I'm sure was the author's intent). How would I have felt at the time? My snap answer is, I wouldn't care. I'm no racist. I'm open minded and a thinker, someone who scoffed at those on TV who cried out "bomb them" in the days after 9/11 without having any idea of who "them" was. But would it have mattered at all? If the New York Times and not USA Today speculated that the memorial was some sort of celebration of Muslim culture, would that have mattered? I think, ultimately, the answer is no, but the author, Amy Waldman, gets bonus points in my book for engaging me in such an internal dialogue and forcing me to acknowledge that I'm not always as open-minded as I like to believe.  

I like a novel that forces its reader to reflect or perhaps face uncomfortable truths. For these reasons I appreciated the novel. However, there were times when I found myself frustrated with the characters or thinking that the story wasn't progressing quite fluidly or quickly enough. The novel follows many different characters, some much more compelling and likable than others. My favorite was a young, illegal immigrant who loses her husband when the towers collapse. However, I think Waldman tried to do too much, and many of the characters fail to truly flourish. Ultimately, the idea of the novel is much more compelling than the novel itself.   

Beautiful Ruins, a Perfect Holiday Read

Beautiful Ruins by Jess Walter begins in a postage stamp sized coastal village in Italy where a young hotel proprietor dreams of attracting glamorous American tourists with an ill conceived tennis court and a crumbling hotel. One day a beautiful American actress happens on the hotel, and the proprietor's life is forever changed. 

This early portion of the book, set in Italy in 1962, reminded me of an old, remastered movie of the sort I used to watch with my mom over Christmas holidays. Perhaps a young Grace Kelly would play the young starlet; although Princess Grace was probably always too sophisticated (but not too beautiful) for such a part. 

The actress and the proprietor are together for only a few short days, and they share a strong attraction that is never discussed or consummated (which, of course, it wouldn't have been in an old movie). They continue on their separate paths living wildly different lives, but they never forget each other. The story picks back up 50 years later when they finally meet again in the United States. 

There are many other characters who Walter weaves into this story, all of whom are unique and compelling. This was a fun, enjoyable read, something you might throw in your carry on or rip into on the beach, a cool drink and a shady umbrella both close at hand. My book club agreed, this was a winner, and we all liked how Walter did a short "where are they now" profile of all of the characters at the end of the book, so we weren't left to wonder what becomes of each of them after the last page is turned. 

Read Child 44 for the Political Intrigue, Not the Mystery

Child 44 by Tom Rob Smith is part historical fiction, part political intrigue, and part murder mystery. I would rate the novel highly in the first of those two genres (and highly overall), but if you're a reader on the hunt for a great murder mystery, you may be a bit disappointed.  

Leo Demidov is a cog in Stalin's Soviet Union, a rising member of the MGB, the State Security Force. As an investigator, Leo lacks imagination and blindly follows orders, never questioning whether the State might be wrong. In this world murder does not exist, and those who are suspected of crimes against the State are always guilty and must be rooted out and removed from society. 

However, in this "crime-free" society, a serial killer is on the loose. His targets are defenseless children, their bodies abandoned near train tracks. This serial killer is given refuge and ultimately unfettered freedom to kill by the State because the State would rather sacrifice a few than allow the spread of fear by acknowledging that any murders have even occurred. This, of course, is an interesting philosophy in a society that we all now know was ruled by fear. 

When Leo questions what is happening, he too is quickly recast as an enemy of the State and turned out. Rather than bending to the will of the State, Leo sets out on a lonely and dangerous path to find the truth and stop the serial killer from striking again. This quest for truth costs him dearly, but he is ultimately successful in tracking down and rooting out the killer. The mystery is relatively easily solved, but I don't think Smith intended to write a complex murder mystery, as his story is about so much more. 

Nab The Book Thief for an Exceptional Read

The Book Thief by Markus Zusak was my favorite read this year.  I am typically reluctant to attach star reviews or ratings to books immediately after reading them.  I much prefer to wait a bit, to let the memory of the book simmer on the back burner of my mind and to come back later to decide how I really think it stacks up to everything else.  This book just really moved me.  I knew it would be a favorite before I even finished it. And now, some time has passed since I finished it in August, and I am still thinking about it.

I loved the characters. I loved the story. I loved the creative use of Death as the narrator, and I thought it was very well written. The story is both tragic and uplifting, and it is immensely entertaining.

It's just a small story really, about, among other things: a girl / some words / an accordionist / some fanatical Germans / a Jewish fist fighter / and quite a lot of thievery

Zusak tells a wonderfully creative story. Liesel Meminger is nine years old and on her way to live with a foster family when she and her mother are forced to disembark from their journey to bury her little brother. Standing in the snowy graveyard, she spots and snatches up a book lying on the ground, a small souvenir of that tragic event. She can't read it, but with the help of her foster father, she learns how, and she develops a love of reading that rescues her both figuratively (at first) and literally (later) in the turmoil of war ravaged Germany.

But the characters even more than the story are perhaps what make this book so rich and wonderful. Even the smallest, least consequential of characters is layered and quirky. There's the accordionist who also happens to be Liesel's foster father, her midnight tutor, and a painter; the Jewish fist fighter who hides in the basement during the war, fights Hitler in his imagination, and paints for Liesel; Liesel's loud mouthed foster mother who feuds with her neighbor, slaves away laundering clothes to help put food (horribly cooked food) on the table, and loves her foster daughter dearly despite her cold as ice exterior; and Liesel's ragamuffin best friend who is always seeking trouble and has a soft spot for Jesse Owens.... The story is a patchwork of these fascinating small town people, most of whom are not particularly political but all of whom become caught up and molded by the war around them.

Layered on top of this wonderful story and these fascinating characters is the narrator: Death. I loved reading Death's perspective on the war and on Nazi Germany, and I loved that he complained about his job just as an accountant or lawyer might complain about the tedium of their own workday. Without the unusual narrator, this would have been a terrific book, but the creativity of this narrative device just added an extra something special that made this book excellent. Do yourself a favor and read this book.   

An Ode to Nicci French

If you aren't reading Nicci French, I have only one thing to ask you.  Why the heck not!?!?  For the uninitiated, Nicci French is a husband and wife British psychological suspense writing team.  First of all, I find it fascinating when two people can write a novel together. I mean, how does that work?  I, of course, went to wikipedia to find out.  Apparently, they write in alternation, and then they edit each other's work.  It's completely amazing that there never seems to be a hiccup with a change in styles.  An interesting tidbit, yes, but that's not why you'll want to read these books.  You'll want to read these because you won't be able to put them down.  It's like book crack.  You'll be addicted.  I always deliver a few warnings to anyone who is picking up a Nicci French book for the first time.  One, start it on a weekend, because you won't go to bed on time on a week night and will likely be late or exhausted at work the following day.  Two, do not pick this up when you have other plans in the immediate future.  You will cancel them.  

My favorite two are Land of the Living and Secret Smile.  Until It's Over was good, and I definitely didn't want to put it down, but it's not as fantastic as these other two.  

The main character is always a vulnerable young girl, typically with no family connections or a bit of a distance from her family.  You will doubt yourself, doubt the characters, and be completely compelled to turn the page.  You'll love it.  Unless, of course, you're just weird.  Yep, I just said that.     

Forget the Forgotten Waltz by Anne Enright

The Forgotten Waltz by Anne Enright was our book club selection for August, and it was uniformly panned. The primary criticism was that we hated all of the characters, particularly the narrator. That's a hard one to get past.

This is the story of a woman who is married to a man who is never really painted in a negative light. That woman falls in love (we all though it sounded much more like lust though) with a married man who has a little girl with some sort of mental disability who also suffers from seizures. The woman eventually leaves her husband and treats him worse than you would treat your worst enemy despite the fact that she is the one who has been cheating and despite the fact that she also really sounds like a bit of a drunk and not such a great catch. The married man who is wildly in love with her (according to her) moves in with her but doesn't really leave his wife. In fact, on Christmas he goes home to his family and leaves some flowers and booze in the toolshed for her to find after he sends her an afterthought of a text message late that night. It's melting your heart, right? And that's it. End of story. 

I actually think I liked it more than some of the other members of our club. Wouldn't have guessed that from my review, huh? Enright is clearly a talented writer. The problem was that I felt like she wanted me to sympathize with the narrator, and I just didn't. She was kind of a bitch to everyone - her husband, her sister, the child of her lover, and she seemed to justify it all because of this magical love affair. I know what it's like to have magic, to be truly, madly, head over heels in love. I don't think Enright does. This so clearly wasn't it. A married man who likes having sex with someone who is not his wife does not a love story make.  

Marilynne Robinson's Gilead - 2005 Pulitzer Winner

Alright, so I know that I'm TERRIBLY behind on my blogging. Pregnancy seems to have turned me into a single minded bump on the couch, much more interested in reading reviews of strollers and cribs than actually reading literature. But you read it here first, my brain (at least the part of it not controlled by these crazy hormones) is staging a comeback! So here goes, I'm finally reviewing my Grand Cayman reading list.

I have to confess that I was REALLY dreading reading Gilead. Take a look at the description from amazon: 

In 1956, toward the end of Reverend John Ames's life, he begins a letter to his young son, an account of himself and his forebears. Ames is the son of an Iowan preacher and the grandson of a minister who, as a young man in Maine, saw a vision of Christ bound in chains and came west to Kansas to fight for abolition: He "preached men into the Civil War," then, at age fifty, became a chaplain in the Union Army, losing his right eye in battle. Reverend Ames writes to his son about the tension between his father--an ardent pacifist--and his grandfather, whose pistol and bloody shirts, concealed in an army blanket, may be relics from the fight between the abolitionists and those settlers who wanted to vote Kansas into the union as a slave state. And he tells a story of the sacred bonds between fathers and sons, which are tested in his tender and strained relationship with his namesake, John Ames Boughton, his best friend's wayward son.

Let's be honest, it sounds unbearably boring. Iowa? Preachers from Maine? Don't tell me you're hooked by the description. You'd be lying. Worse, you'd be one of those people that my girlfriend A in Houston and I roll our eyes about when they say their absolute favorite book is ________ (pick the most pretentious, least likable book you can think of, and insert title here). Aren't those people the worst? But I digress.... 

Despite the snooze-fest of a synopsis, the reviews for this book by actual readers on sites like amazon or goodreads were pretty outstanding. I must say, however, I did suspect some of those reviewers came from the aforementioned group of literary snobs.... So, it was with great trepidation that I plunged into this book. 

However, I was again pleasantly surprised. It turns out the Pulitzer Committee may know a thing or two about great fiction (despite what my mother has to say on the matter). True, the subject matter is not as captivating as the latest gripping thriller, but the prose are beautifully written and the narrative voice is unique and so believable. As a soon to be first time parent, I also enjoyed the musings on parent-child relationships and the narrator's attempts to leave a legacy for his young son who he knows he will never truly know.  

John Ames is very much a simple man. He remained in his small hometown in Iowa his entire life and entered into the family vocation (preaching) without giving either much thought at the outset. He does not believe himself to be an outstanding man or even a particularly talented preacher. He is simply a man who knows he will soon die and knows that his little boy will never have the chance to know him. With this knowledge, he attempts to capture a bit of his own family history, nuggets of advice he wants to pass on to his son, and the simple truths of his own life. In this way he hopes that his son will someday get to know him posthumously. It's a simple idea that is beautifully executed. 

There were so many wonderful passages in this novel. I am typically not an underliner, but I found myself marking short passages on my Kindle while reading this book. I guess I was just drawn to John Ames' voice. As he begins his exploration of the father son relationships in his family, he muses:

You can know a thing to death and be for all purposes completely ignorant of it. A man can know his father, or his son, and there might still be nothing between them but loyalty and love and mutual incomprehension.    

See what I mean about the style and the narrative voice? I think this captures so many father and son relationships perfectly. Ultimately, Ames' son will likely know more about his father from the journal his father leaves behind for him than he otherwise would have known had he lived. 

Ultimately, I came away from Gilead with a great admiration for Robinson as a writer, but I'm not running out to buy her other books. I still need a bit more of a story.    

Grand Cayman Reading Vacation

The view from my reading
spot on our balcony.

My husband and I just got back from four nights in beautiful Grand Cayman. We soaked in the rays on the beach and spent a lot of time beachside, poolside, and on our balcony reading. Thanks to Tropical Storm Ernesto, we also spent an entire afternoon in the room with our books. My husband tackled 11/22/63 by Stephen King, which he really loved. I finished off Gilead by Marilynne Robinson; read The Forgotten Waltz by Anne Enright, Until It's Over by Nicci French, The Book Thief by Markus Zusak; and started reading Child 44 by Tom Rob Smith. This means I have a lot of blogging to do, so stayed tuned in for reviews of those books.  

Cutting Through Writer's Block

I must confess, I'm struggling to write this review. Last night I stared at the blank screen for a while, eventually setting aside my Mac and flipping on a movie rather than facing the task at hand. Tonight I'm committed, and I suppose my writer's block is the best place to start. 

I'm having writer's block not because I have nothing to write but because I'm undecided about how to review this book. This is a strange predicament. Usually I read or watch something and know immediately how I feel about it, but that's not the case with Cutting for Stone. I was terribly unengaged for the first 30% of this book and felt like the book could have benefited from some judicious editing. I just couldn't get through it. I found myself coming home from work and watching old reruns of Law and Order rather than picking up my Kindle. Then, after the initial hurdle, which in a 541 page book was significant, it got really good. I found myself wanting to come home just so I could slip back into Marion's, the main character's, life.

The story begins when Sister Mary Joseph Praise falls in love with the young and brilliant surgeon, Thomas Stone, on a cargo ship from India to Africa. They work together for years at Missing Hospital in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia, and one day, to everyone's (including Stone's) surprise, Sister Mary Joseph Praise turns out to be pregnant. I did question how even a nun's habit could conceal 9 months of pregnancy weight, but I guess suspension of disbelief is sometimes necessary for a good book. Anyway, she delivers conjoined twins Marion and Shiva whose bodies are separated from each other at birth, but who will always remain as one, ShivaMarion. Cutting for Stone is their story. 

The twins are raised by adoptive parents Hema and Ghosh, Missing's other two doctors, after Sister Mary Joseph Praise dies in childbirth and Thomas Stone flees the scene, abandoning his sons. The book explores Marion's childhood, the love he develops for a woman who will ruin him over and over again, his passion for medicine, and most importantly, his relationship with his other half, Shiva. Once Verghese gets his readers out of Operating Theater 3 on the day of ShivaMarion's birth, the story is captivating. It just takes him a while to get there. 

Addis Ababa looks much like I pictured.

And, the writing is terrific, no question. Verghese is a master of character development. My favorite character was Ghosh, Marion's jovial and wise adoptive father, and Missing's internal medicine specialist turned surgeon. I suspect that he is  everyone's favorite character. He is the voice of reason, the one who always seems to intuit how other people are feeling, and a hero for stepping into the role of surgeon and father almost simultaneously when Marion's birth father and Missing's only surgeon runs away. Verghese also seemingly effortlessly transports his readers to Addis Ababa and Missing Hospital, and in a way, these places are like characters in the book, they are so alive. I particularly loved learning about Ethiopian foods, music, politics, and history through Marion's eyes. I suspect that as I think more and more about this book, I will like it increasingly, and perhaps that is a hallmark of a great book....    

The Song Remains the Same: What Would You Do If You Couldn't Remember Anything?

The Song Remains the Same is the story of Nell Slattery, one of two survivors of an airplane crash who wakes up in an Iowa hospital room unable to remember who she is or any details of her life before the crash. She doesn't even recognize her own face in the mirror. I loved how Nell imagines that she had a life like Rachel Green on Friends because wouldn't that be what you would assume if you woke up with amnesia? Most of us wouldn't wake up without any recollection of our lives before and imagine we are married to a schlub, that we haven't lived out our dreams, or that we lead a boring life.  As Nell pieces together who she is, she slowly learns that some of the things about her old life aren't what she imagined, and she attempts to use the plane crash as a chance for a new start. Nell explores whether people can and do change. Ultimately, she comes to terms with the fact that while we may not change at our core, we can learn to have a new outlook, and we can make different choices that change our lives. 

So here's a thought, what about your life would you be disappointed to learn if you woke up one morning remembering nothing? I'm happy to report I can't come up with an answer. I may not be Rachel Green (I was always a bit more of a Monica), but I do lead a pretty terrific life with a wonderful husband and a really loving, supportive group of friends and family some of whom are probably reading this blog right now, which is nice to know because I'm not sure that anyone else is!     

This was a very quick read and was just the type of summer read I was looking for, so thanks to my friend A in Houston who recommended this to me. I can always count on her for great book recommendations. 

   

I Suck at Girls Made Me Laugh So Hard I Cried

I Suck at Girls by Justin Halpern is the funniest book since Me Talk Pretty One Day by David Sedaris. Halpern examines his failed attempts to understand and impress girls, and with each story he gets older but no wiser, beginning as a young boy tormenting the girl who sits next to him in elementary school, stealing porn from homeless men in middle school, backpacking through Europe in a desperate attempt to get laid, a summer job at Hooters in another attempt to score with the waitresses, and culminating with a long distance romance with his now wife. After putting the book down, I would find myself giggling hours later, as I was making dinner or folding laundry. My advice, buy this book in hard copy, not on an e-reader (like I did), because you are going to want to loan this out. I'm already planning on buying a copy for my husband.    

I'm guessing we won't have a lot of intellectual discourse at book club this week about this book, but I bet we'll have lots of laughs. After our last two book club books, Vaclav & Lena by Haley Tanner in May, which I really liked but brought me to tears three times, and Girlchild by Tupelo Hassman in June, which I've already reviewed, we needed a good laugh before we got back to our usual fare.   

Booth Tarkington's The Magnificent Ambersons - 1919 Pulitzer Winner

Yesterday while I was finishing The Magnificent Ambersons my husband kept asking me if everything was alright. I guess my heavy sighs tipped him off. The main character, Georgie Amberson Minafer, is so despicable I couldn't help myself. Georgie ranks among the most egomaniacal fictional characters I have ever come across, and his character flaws result in the misery of pretty much every woman in this book. I know that every great novel needn't feature an Atticus Finch, but it certainly helps when you have someone to root for.    

This is the second book in a trilogy, but Tarkington provides enough in the way of background to make jumping in with book two easy. The Ambersons are an ostentateously wealthy family, building what would today be considered a McMansion and indulging in numerous extravagances (my favorite of which is that they purchase, wait for it, a dog). Major Amberson is the patriarch of the family, and his daughter Isabel was, we are told, the belle of every ball. However, after Isabel's preferred suitor (Eugene) makes a drunken blunder while serenading her one evening, she dismisses him for good and marries the boring Wilbur Minafer. They have only one child, Georgie, and Georgie is the Major's sole grandson. Georgie is literally spoiled rotten, and he wreaks havoc everywhere he goes resulting in a unanimous desire by the townspeople that he get what he has coming to him, which he, of course, ultimately does but only after ruining many lives.  

The story begins with Georgie home from college and attending a ball in his honor. He falls for the beautiful and popular young Lucy, and for the life of me I could never figure out why, but she falls for him. He is arrogant, rude, lacking in charm, and determined to do nothing with his life. What girl wouldn't succumb to such a young man? 

It turns out that Lucy is the daughter of Eugene who disappeared from the town 20 years earlier after Isabel rejected him. Eugene is now a widower, and he has returned to town with his only daughter and dreams of designing automobiles. Georgie dislikes Eugene from the start and mocks the invention of the automobile as a fad. Despite Georgie's distaste for him, Eugene and Isabel rekindle their old friendship, and after Wilbur dies it seems that Isabel and Eugene may finally marry. But, oh no! Georgie gets word that his mother is being gossiped about because of the time she is spending with Eugene (over a year after her husband's death), and he sends Eugene away, forbids his mother ever to see him again, and packs both himself and his mother off to Europe in order to save the Amberson name. This is made worse by the fact that Isabel is a supremely likable character who is kind to everyone despite her supreme wealth and wants to make her son happy more than anything else. 

Georgie's actions part him from the young Lucy, and because of that Georgie thinks he's making a real sacrifice. Tarkington tries to make us believe that Georgie is terribly in love with Lucy, but it was hard to imagine that Georgie actually had time to care a lick for Lucy (or anyone else) with all of the time he spent thinking about himself. He finally brings his mother back to America the day before she dies, but he refuses to allow Eugene to see her. She dies saying it would have been nice to have seen him one last time. Pretty awful, right? In the meantime, beautiful Lucy can't get over Georgie, and she never marries.

The Major dies shortly after Isabel, and it turns out the Amberson's are dead broke. At this point, we are supposed to believe that Georgie has changed because he loses his entire fortune and takes a hazard pay job handling nitroglycerin in order to support his aunt Fanny who he has pretty much terrorized for the past 25 years. He gets hit by a car and Lucy and her father come to the hospital, and we are left with the thought that all will be well. Well, you know what, I don't think he deserves it, and poor Lucy definitely deserves more than this brainless, arrogant ass. 

I did think the book was historically interesting, as Tarkington explores ideas of urban sprawl, class, and the changes resulting from the invention and popularization of the automobile. I just couldn't get over Georgie Amberson Minafer, the most unlikeable of heroes.  

What Are You Reading?

I apologize for the lag in postings, but I have been struggling through my latest book, The Magnificent Ambesons (check back later this evening or tomorrow for a review). What is it about summer that makes us all want to read something a little bit more light and flighty even when we aren't on the beach? I would love some good recommendations, so let me know what some of your favorite books are and what you're reading right now that you love.    

Girlchild, A Book Club Dud

My book club met on Tuesday to discuss our June book, Girlchild by Tupelo Hassman. Based on the book's description on Amazon (see below), we were all expecting something light, funny, and endearing, i.e. the perfect summer read. 

Rory Hendrix is the least likely of Girl Scouts. She hasn’t got a troop or even a badge to call her own. But she’s checked the Handbook out from the elementary school library so many times that her name fills all the lines on the card, and she pores over its surreal advice (Uniforms, disposing of outgrown; The Right Use of Your Body; Finding Your Way When Lost) for tips to get off the Calle: that is, the Calle de las Flores, the Reno trailer park where she lives with her mother, Jo, the sweet-faced, hard-luck bartender at the Truck Stop.  

Rory’s been told that she is one of the “third-generation bastards surely on the road to whoredom.” But she’s determined to prove the county and her own family wrong. Brash, sassy, vulnerable, wise, and terrified, she struggles with her mother’s habit of trusting the wrong men, and the mixed blessing of being too smart for her own good. From diary entries, social workers’ reports, half-recalled memories, arrest records, family lore, Supreme Court opinions, and her grandmother’s letters, Rory crafts a devastating collage that shows us her world even as she searches for the way out of it. 

Well, our expectations couldn't have been more wrong. What the description should have said is something closer to the following:  This is the story of a little girl (Rory) who doesn't fit in anywhere, particularly because she is harboring secrets of long-suffered abuse (both sexual and psychological) by her babysitter and her babysitter's father, and she is too scared to tell anyone. She has one friend who suddenly moves away before they can really develop their friendship, and her friend later dies an early death. Rory receives little support from her own family and is ultimately left to fend for herself before she is even old enough to vote, much less drive a car. Rory is wildly smart, but she squanders her opportunities so as not to burden her mother with having to miss work to take her to the state spelling bee championship, and based on the book's ending, it doesn't sound like she will ever make it to college. She may get out of her trailer park, but you have to wonder, whether she will just end up some place similar.  

I did like Hassman's writing style. The mix of letters, social worker reports, diary entries, etc. was interesting, but the subject matter was just too bleak without any redemption or even prospect of redemption for the main character. Ultimately, this was one of the most depressing books any of us had ever read, and it elicited the least amount of discussion of any book since we first formed our club in September 2011. 

          

Cormac McCarthy's The Road - 2007 Pulitzer Winner

I just finished reading Cormac McCarthy's The Road on Sunday night. I'll confess that it had been sitting on my bookshelf for years and was one of those purchases that probably had more to do with the "buy 1 get 1 half price sticker" still on the book's front cover rather than any interest I actually had in reading it at the time. I previously read McCarthy's All the Pretty Horses, and I confess, I was bored to tears. The  only reason I took the book from the shelf last week was to check the title off of my Pulitzer list. I wasn't looking forward to reading about a bleak, post-apocalyptic world, and I was relieved when I opened the book and realized the font was fairly large (i.e. the book wasn't very long). 

Then I started reading, and I have to say, I loved this book. Unlike many other readers, I didn't find McCarthy's lack of punctuation and lack of complete sentences distracting, which is surprising, because I have to confess, I'm a bit of a punctuation nut. I found his sparse prose beautiful and well suited to the subject matter. Based on McCarthy's well known distaste of the semicolon and other punctuation, I'm not sure that I agree with other readers that the punctuation (or lack thereof) in The Road is really meant to underscore the book's themes and to further illustrate the fact that the man and boy are on the precipice of starvation. But I do love the idea that his punctuation isn't a matter of personal style but was, rather, meant to convey something about the story. I'm just not buying it. 

The one thing I can't quite figure out is his lack of use of apostrophes in only those conjunctions involving the word "not," e.g. dont, cant, wouldnt, shouldnt, didnt, and werent. Why does he omit apostrophes from only these conjunctions and leave them in other words? If somebody knows the answer, please comment. I'd love to hear any theories.  

But enough about the punctuation, that's not the main event. This is the story of a father and son who walk along a road in a cold, dark world, heading for the coast. The father dreams only of survival, but the boy longs for the color of the sea, which he has never seen, and other survivors, namely other children. The man and his son are frightened, starving, and plagued by nightmares that come both on the road and in their sleep. In this bleak setting McCarthy explores themes of survival and faith, and he examines the human psyche in the face of such destruction.     

But this is really a love story. The man's love for his son is so deep that it fuels him. His only interest is in protecting his child. Thoughts of suicide and of death are constantly present, but the man keeps moving along the road, fighting for his child's survival despite questions of whether the child wants to survive or whether survival in the face of such horrors should really be his goal. As they fight for survival, the man attempts to bring joy to his son's life, carving him a flute, remembering the boy's toy truck when they are forced to leave many of their possessions behind, and feeding a starving man, even though they too are starving, because it is what the boy wants. He also struggles to teach his child that good does exist, telling his son that they are the good guys, and they carry the fire, even though I don't think the man believes this anymore. We also see how well the man has done in the face of such adversity because the boy truly is a "good guy," always ensuring that his Papa shares their provisions equally and wanting to rescue others that they meet on their journey. Despite growing up in a world so desolate and peopled by evil men who eat other humans, the boy is still amazingly uncorrupted and trusting.

I think this book also appealed to my early interest in pioneer stories involving people who lived off the land and struggled to survive (although in this case, everything is dead, and they are forced to scavenge for old canned goods, which is a bit different than the Laura Ingalls Wilder books of my youth). Despite my early misgivings, I highly recommend The Road to other readers.       

This Is Your Brain on Fiction

While talking to my sister-in-law this morning, I mentioned that I haven't read a nonfiction book in quite some time. In fact, I think the last one might have been The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks, which I read over a year ago. Perhaps overly defensive of the lack of nonfiction on my recent reading lists, I rationalized that there is so much to be learned from great fiction. Of course, it's obvious that we broaden our knowledge of language and often of history and sociology through fiction, but my sister-in-law also referred me to a recent New York Times op-ed about discoveries in the field of neuroscience regarding the impact fiction and descriptive language can have on the brain and on our ability to empathize with other people.

According to this op-ed, the brain may not actually distinguish between reading about an experience and actually experiencing it because in both cases, the same neurological regions are stimulated.  According to the op-ed:

In a study led by the cognitive scientist Véronique Boulenger, of the Laboratory of Language Dynamics in France, the brains of participants were scanned as they read sentences like “John grasped the object” and “Pablo kicked the ball.” The scans revealed activity in the motor cortex, which coordinates the body’s movements. What’s more, this activity was concentrated in one part of the motor cortex when the movement described was arm-related and in another part when the movement concerned the leg. 

Another study found that metaphors such as "The singer had a velvet voice” or “He had leathery hands” roused the sensory cortex, while phrases with similar meanings such as “The singer had a pleasing voice” or “He had strong hands,” did not. 

This is all interesting, but what does it mean to us as readers? And how does it impact whether we like a piece of fiction or not? Or does it? I recently read Jesmyn Ward's Salvage the Bones, which takes place in the days before Hurricane Katrina, and each time I put the book down I found myself looking nervously outside, surprised to see the sun shining and no signs of a hurricane, much less a drop of rain. Did the words that Ward selected stimulate my brain to trick me into these feelings of apprehension about the weather? I now find myself wondering about those truly precious books that you can't wait to finish but that you don't want to end, was something happening to my brain while I read that made those books so much more special than the rest?      

To check out the op-ed for yourself, follow this link: Your Brain on Fiction (New York Times March 17, 2012).

Pulitzer Project

Several months ago I committed to reading all of the Pulitzer Prize winners in fiction. I was shocked when I printed off the list and realized I had read less than 15! It turns out my recent reading lists have been a little heavy on novels like The Hunger Games and Twilight trilogies and pretty light on anything that could be considered actual literature. I had a long way to go.

I'm now about 25% of the way through the list, and I am really enjoying this project. My husband keeps reminding me that I don't HAVE to read ALL of the books on the list. These comments are met with blank stares from me. Does he really think I would leave 2 or 3 unread? No way! There's definitely a disconnect between us when it comes to things like this. My husband can be totally engrossed in a book, and put it down with 20 pages left and forget about it. I won't go to bed or go to dinner with only 20 pages left in a book, and I would NEVER not read the last 20 pages of a book! I will finish this project, and now I've committed to it in writing.  

These are the ones I've read so far:
2011: A Visit from the Goon Squad by Jennifer Egan
2010: Tinkers by Paul Harding
2009: Olive Kitteridge by Elizabeth Strout
2008: The Brief Wonderous Life of Oscar Wao by Junot Diaz
2006: March by Geraldine Brooks
2004: The Known World by Edward P. Jones
2003: Middlesex by Jeffrey Eugenides
2002: Empire Falls by Richard Russo
2000: Interpreter of Maladies by Jhumpa Lahiri
1992: A Thousand Acres by Jane Smiley
1989: Breathing Lessons by Anne Tyler
1988: Beloved by Toni Morrison
1986: Lonesome Dove by Larry McMurtry
1983: The Color Purple by Alice Walker
1961: To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee
1953: The Old Man and the Sea by Ernest Hemingway
1937: Gone with the Wind by Margaret Mitchell
1932: The Good Earth by Pearl S. Buck
1928: The Bridge of San Luis Rey by Thornton Wilder
1921: The Age of Innocence by Edith Wharton
1918: His Family by Ernest Poole  

21 down, 64 more to go. So far the prize winner that I really just don't get is Tinkers by Paul Harding. I found it really disjointed, and I couldn't wait to finish the book just to check it off my list. If I had to pick the top 5 so far I think it would be the following (in chronological order): Middlesex, Empire Falls, The Color Purple, To Kill a Mockingbird, and The Bridge of San Luis Rey. Ask me tomorrow, and you may get a different list.

I would love to know other people's favorite Pulitzer books. For a complete list of the prize winners follow this link: http://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pulitzer_Prize_for_Fiction