Here If You Need Me, 2007

A much as I love fiction, I have a weakness for a clear, compelling nonfiction piece. This book was a good fit that. Kate Braestrup is a Unitarian Universalist minister who works for the Maine forestry service. She is basically a Chaplin to game wardens. She chronicles her process of choosing this career and walks the reader through what her experience is like on a day to day basis. She has two primary roles, first to minister to families and loved ones when someone goes missing or dies in the Maine woods and second to minister to the game wardens as they go about their days.

How she goes into this profession is a large part of her story, her husband dies tragically and she sort of takes on the mantle of what he had planned to do. While this experience shaped her personally and professionally, I was actually more captivated by her stories of being with the wardens themselves. Her job is basically to be present physically and emotionally in all types of situations. She serves them by just being there. Which I suppose is where she got the title for the book. I think her process spoke to me because it seemed so similar to what I do as a therapist. In many moments it seems like just bearing witness to people's pain and joy is a sacred act. Yes, there is a science to psychology that I'm not dismissing that. The science is real and useful in a number of ways. And yet there is still the unexplained power of a simple human connection and feels much more spiritual in nature. This author seems to capture the essence of that relationship in her work. Reading the book feels like you are a silent passenger throughout her many interactions and encounters with people. You listen, observe and occasionally pray, all the while trusting God to handle the rest.

She has a quote in the preface that sums up the book for me. She is discussing the meaning of the Greek word, Logos, which can mean: word, discourse, speech, message, theory, motive, reason, wisdom, and story. She then places it in the context of John's gospel "In the beginning was the story, and the story was with God, and story was God."

Amy Inspired, 2010

I debated putting my thoughts about this book on the good old blog. Mostly because I like to be supportive of writers, especially those that may be newer in their career. But I want to record my readings in an authentic way so that includes books I didn't really like or think very well written.

This book didn't strike a positive cord with me for several reasons. First, the plot is labored and it seems artificially forced. Second, there was this undertone of religious faith in a very disinteresting way. Third, the ending was so cliche! I should also admit that I don't really like Christian fiction as a genre, in fact usually I stay far away from it. I know other people love it and thats great! It's just not for me. I do read lots of books with religious themes and imagery and find them amazingly compelling. Perhaps it's my Reformed theology, but I prefer to have the faith story emerge from the narrative of life rather than present in the forced fashion I usually find in Christian fiction.

I want to say one other thing about this book, I think it is difficult to write about a writer. The main character is a young woman who is scraping by on adjunct teaching work in order to devote herself to writing fiction. She appears to be fairly unsuccessful on the writing front thus far which also seems to be true in her personal life. But it's hard to write about what you are doing, I think replicating the practice of writing onto your character can be more complicated than many writers can accomplish well.

Moon Over Manifest, 2010

This book has the unique distinction of being the first that I've read on my e-reader. I have to say it's pretty cool to check out a book from the library and have it instantly downloaded to my computer. A little strange as well, since I've always enjoyed the feel of books in my hands. I suspect I read this a bit slower since it was disorienting at first to read on a screen instead of the pages of a book. But as I got into it I forgot the medium and just appreciated the story.

The best way to describe this story is that it's a gentle narrative that draws you in using layered plot lines. The tale jumps between two time periods in the same town with the narrator's discovery process operating as the focal point. The story is set in the summertime and the young girls' exploration of their sleepy town's history leads the reader along through war, sickness, secrets and family relations. It's an uncomplicated story where all of the pieces seem to fit nicely together at the end. I found it satisfying to read but not particularly complicated. That may be partly due to the fact that it's written for youth (I seem to be stumbling upon a lot of youth novels lately).

So how does this book relate to faith? The main character Abilene never gives up faith in her father's desire to love her even when that seems in question. She also holds onto a belief that somehow all the stories are tied together and will make sense in time. Perhaps it is simply her determination to make sense of her world that ties the reader to something beyond just present reality.

The Translator,1999 and Lyrics Alley, 2010

I just finished two books by Leila Aboulela and I'd welcome the opportunity to read another. Both were entrancing reads that allowed a glimpse into a world so different from my own. I love adding books that offer that kind of perspective, mostly because it gives me an opportunity to learn and observe traditions, beliefs and lives carefully cultivated in a particular worldview. Both of these books are seeped in the country of Sudan and the religion of Islam. And they are so welcoming to the reader. They sort of invite you into the a world without over explaining what is going on but still acknowledging that the reader might not know all the details of the traditions. I felt brought into something new while also aware of my otherness.

The Translator, 1999

This is the story of a grieving widow who falls in love. The common human connection is one of empathy throughout the struggle to process loss. Additionally, the main character finds herself living in a kind of exile in Scotland, far from her home in Sudan. As a reader I could feel the contrasts of chilly Scotland and warm Sudan. Even though our cultures were vastly different I could also appreciate the commonness of pain no matter how it is experienced. The woman's tale is further complicated by her identity as a Muslim and her distance from the Anglo world around her. Additionally, she falls in love with a man who is not a Muslim and while she tries to appeal to him to simply speak the words necessary to convert he is unable to do so for fear of being inauthentic. I found myself drawn in by the author and wrapped in the narrative of the main character. Hoping that she will find love in the midst of a difficult relationship with her former mother in law and a strained attachment with her young son. The universal human similarities dominate while also expanding into a view of Islam that is wide and rich.

Lyrics Alley, 2010

This book has been on my mind since I finished reading it. I've been running the story lines through my head and pondering over the characters. While I liked the first book by this author, I found this second one difficult to put down. Its plot captured me right away. The story is told by several different voices, each chapter switches its perspective. While some people find this disconcerting I usually enjoy it. Though I will admit it can be difficult to leave one person's narrative and jump to another if something particularly dramatic has happened.

Why did I enjoy this book? Most of the main characters that narrate are young women and men who are caught up in their cultural and religious expectations. I suspect that I found it interesting to step into their perspectives that were different from mine and yet oddly not that different. Again the thing that struck me about the book was the universal human condition that can be translated across cultural boundaries. That's not to say there wasn't a tremendous amount that was unfamiliar to me, there was! And I had to go look up words that were new to me like "hoash" which is used to describe a traditional home area, from what I gathered is partly an outside courtyard type enclosure. The book also exposed my ignorance of African history, highlighting the relationship between Egypt and Sudan. I found myself intrigued enough to google more of the history to aid my understanding of the novel.

One reaction I have to the book is challenging for me to put into words. I found the narratives of the young people in the book especially captivating. One of them Soraya, is coming into her own throughout the book and as she grows she is also trying to find her place in a society that is extremely conservative towards the roles of women. She is both bound by the customs of her culture and pushing for more freedom. She is smart and successful and comes from a wealthy family. But she also suffers a tremendous tragedy. Her childhood love, the man she is betrothed too from a young age become paralyzed. The reader watches her move through denial, anger and acceptance of this change in her life plan. While I grieved with her as she let go of love and moved towards a marriage that would ensure her freedom and independence I also thought the author masterfully handled her transition. This reaction to the book is complicated for me because I think it would be easy for an American woman to read this book and get stuck on the oppressive nature of some of customs. And let me be clear I think female genital mutilation is oppressive and traumatic! But on the other hand I think that their needs to be balance in assessing a culture that is not your own. Striking that balance can be difficult and I'm conscious of the reality of my own identity in thinking about my reaction to books like this.

Books by Kathryn Erskine

Mockingbird, 2010

This book arose out of the author's attempt to see the world as a person with Aspergers' and in response to the emotional upheaval of the Virginia Tech shooting in 2009. It's set as a youth novel.

I found it to be a delightful book that ultimately filled me with hope about the human spirit. Ironically, it is a person who struggles with emotions, both understanding and expressing them, who brings others around her into completeness. The main character is an elementary school student with Aspergers who has just lost her brother in a tragic school shooting. (Heavy material for a youth novel but very interesting!) Caitlin, the young girl, is struggling to understand her own process while also being totally confused by the emotional processes of others around her. She is literal and very logical, hallmarks of the this type of thinking. At times her responses to others leave you cringing but she also has a well developed sense of her own limitations. Often she knows she doesn't "GET IT" but the level of insight she demonstrates is so very humbling to the reader. Caitlin is perceived as "limited" by the world because she thinks a different way, sees the world through a unique lens. But her perspective allows her to move past some types of emotional baggage and get the core of the matter.

I recently read another book, "Be Different, Tales from a Free-Range Aspergian" by John Elder Robinson. It's an excellent first person explanation of what it's like to live in a world where all the rules are coded in a language you don't understand. "Mockingbird" offers another insight into how a younger person attempts to break the code of social skills and emotional content. I also appreciated that the school counselor is presented in a particularly positive and effective light. Yay, for a good impression of mental health!

The Absolute Value of Mike, 2011


After finishing the previous book by Kathryn Erskine I checked out this book. It's also a young adult novel, written from a 14 year old's perspective. Interestingly in this book it appears that the father of the main character, Mike, has Asbergers. Whereas in Mockingbird the main character was telling the story through the lens of someone without the correct social decoder this time the main character's father lacks much social wisdom. However, the father is never diagnosed with this disorder, instead the reader is left to gather that from the interactions between father and son. The dad is rigid and has a difficult time relating to his son, conversely the son runs the household and is particularly socially aware.

I'm also picking up on a reoccurring theme in Eskine's books, presenting a child/early adolescent and having him/her accomplish something fantastic. In the first book Caitlin manages to help a community heal from tragedy and in this book Mike helps to get a child adopted from Romania. Of course there are other's who help and make it possible but ultimately it is this 14 year old's tenacity that makes it happen. I like the empowering feel of her writing, I wonder what the reviews say when written by adolescents and middle school students?

Mike is a fun character who is easy to like, and he wears his emotions on his sleeve so it's also easy to see what motivates him. He is perhaps a bit too lucky but that's not an uncommon trait for novel characters to have. I especially liked the parts where he expressed his anger and saw what happened. At times I wonder if we as adults communicate that anger is something that you "shouldn't" express openly. The author seems to let Mike have his moments of anger and then experience the consequences. Sometimes those are difficult to grapple with and other times they are useful. This may be a good model for thinking about talking to youth about expressing anger.

She's an excellent author that I look forward to hearing speak about her thoughts on the place of faith in writing a story. It would seem to me that both of her stories have a strong narrative about the power of an individual in the context of the community. I will be interested in to hear what she has to say.

The Madonnas of Leningrad, 2006

So now I need to plan a trip to Russia. This book made me want to head to the Hermitage in St. Petersburg and just wander it's great halls. The depictions of the art and the building's grandeur reeled me in. After finishing the book I read that the author had not visited the museum or the country before writing the novel. That seems unbelievable given the level of detail present in her book. But it's true, she did not visit Russia until after the book was written and bought by a publisher.

The books is small and yet haunting in a way. It blends the story of a woman's current reality with Alzheimer's and her regression back into her life during World War II. Her present day surroundings find her in the USA attending a grandchild's wedding. But in her mind she is continually being transported back to the 1940s and her time during Hitler's siege of Leningrad. The book transitions gently between time periods back and forth. It's almost as if you are inside the main character, Marina's, mind as she drifts between realities.

At first I was worried this would be similar to the novel, Sarah's Key, which I did not particularly enjoy. But instead this novel seemed to capture the story in a much more effortless way. It's a small book with short chapters and I managed to read it in a couple of days. But the story is much larger and the book seems to speak to that. It references the resent day however, the past is the main story. Really the reader learns very little about the life of Marina after she left the Hermitage. And the snippets that we do learn are pretty commonplace. It is her story while under siege that gets the most air time.

The siege is barren and cold. I remember learning about how the winter stopped Hitler from invading Russia but I don't think I realized that the people of St Petersburg were trapped. The cold and pervasive death is striking when placed alongside Marinas pregnancy and the museum that they preserving. I found the book an enticement to go and see the Hermitage myself. I'll add it to my list of places to visit in life.

One other thing about this book, it's the author's first novel. As is Purple Hibiscus, which I mentioned a few posts ago. They are remarkable stories and it's a bit mind blowing to me that they are the first thing that these author's have had published. I wonder how you follow them with a second story?


Here's Nemo enjoying some sunshine at the conservatory...

In front of the fountain from Morocco

Nothing is more interesting than dirt in a crack

Except for a drainage hole!

Purple Hibiscus, 2003

I found that I couldn't help but read this book through my psychologist glasses. The story is set in Nigeria and told by the adolescent daughter of a rich family, Kambili. Her lens is so very fitting for the narrative because it's somewhat limited in it's perspective. Throughout the story I found myself looking into her words and seeing beyond them and trying to figure out what an adult might say about the situation. But interestingly her limited perspective also kept me at times from seeing the obvious events right as they were happening. For example, it took me a little while to see the reality of the abuse that was occurring in their household. But once it was clear the signs seemed obvious and I felt a bit silly that I hadn't noticed it before. It is possible that the author intended for this to happen to the reader. Perhaps my experience mimics the narrator's own slow awakening and ability to verbalize what is going on around her.

Once the abuse became clear I found myself reading the narrater's emotions and reactions through my "educated about trauma but still affected by the details" eyes. It appears to me that the author got it right in terms of describing the daughter's conflicted emotions. Kambili loves her father desperately and is constantly trying to win his affection in some way but she is also driven by a paralyzing fear of what her father could do at any given moment. The control he has over her life is complete and full, in many ways he even rules her mind. As I read, I wondered about what causes someone to behave this way towards his own children. I also found myself wanting to grab the narrator and explain what was happening, to somehow help her see her worth and power. I think my reaction was in response to her own complete acceptance of the trauma she was enduring. This is where abuse really gets to me, because of course she was ruled by the tyranny of her father. She did not know anything else. She had never been taught to think for herself and her other parent, her mother, was also under her husband's complete control. He regularly used his wife as a punching bag for his frustrations.

The other things that were striking to me were the deep internalized issues around race and religion represented in the book. The father's character is so very complicated. So abusive to his family. A classic controlling male figure that tries to micromanage every aspect of his family's life. He's so abusive that you want to hate him. Some parts of me really did despise him. But as with all good human depictions, that just isn't the whole story. This man also gives generously and seems to genuinely care about his community. He publishes a newspaper that agitates against the ruling regime. He seems to sincerely believe in government reform and community justice. The paradox of the way he treats his family and the generosity towards the community is startling. Ultimately, I think his personal failings far outweighed his public goodness.

He also seems to be driven by a overly intense commitment to oppressive White imperialistic Christianity. His experience of being raised by White priests imprinted upon him a sense that faith should be harsh, cruel and unweilding. He also demonstrated some internalized racial oppression as evidenced by his continued hatred of things natively Nigerian. It appeared that becoming sanctified meant becoming as White as possible. Salvation seems to revolved around being perfect and presenting oneself as perfect. I found that I almost pitied him because of his childhood experiences living with these harsh catholic priests. I also found myself sad for the continued injustice perpetuated in the name of Jesus.

I wonder what the author will have to say about her depiction of Christianity throughout the novel? The father's faith lacks any true love and kindness of spirit while the Aunty and her family seem to embody a loving and kind faith. They practice the same Catholicism but with an open heart that does not create walls and instead builds connections. I wonder how the author considered this juxtaposition? The open and warm faith is primarily represented by Nigerians and the cold, harsh, angry faith seems to be primarily influenced by White priests and nuns.

Perhaps my favorite part of this book is watching the narrator begin to own her voice. She is almost mute throughout much of the book but through relationships with her aunt and cousins she comes alive. It is then that she is able to become more fully herself and even fall in love. The feminist in me simply loved seeing her take the control and power in her life back into her own hands.

A Good and Perfect Gift 2011

After reading Urrea's novel I turned around and read Amy Julia Becker's nonfiction piece, "A Good and Perfect Gift; Faith, Expectations, and a Little Girl Named Penny." I didn't realize it but I have read some of Becker's work before on the Motherlode blog of the New York Times (which I loved while Lisa Belkin was writing it but she has moved to the Huffington Post and Motherlode continues but it just isn't the same....). Anyway I started Becker's book thinking it might be a bit dry and depressing as it appeared to be a very deliberate treatise on faith and pain and their connections. I was delighted to be proven very wrong. Becker's book is a glass of fresh cool water on a difficult and often very confusing topic. She presents the story of her daughter, Penny, who has Down Syndrome and Becker's journey into being her mother. The best way I can describe Becker's work is that it is just beautiful. Gorgeous in its simplicity and clarity. Though I wonder if that's what she intended when writing it. Because it's beauty is not due to some dramatic written effort, in fact it's the lack of pretense that gives the book a soul.

I have to confess that I adore good nonfiction. When I dabble in writing it is the genre I am most likely to attempt. A compelling memoir will have me spellbound for weeks after reading it. (I still ponder on Anne Lamott's work a decade later!) So I am probably biased towards Becker's book. But I also despise poor nonfiction, so unless it's good I am not reading it. I'm much more likely to quit a lousy nonfiction book than a lousy fiction book, I'm not really sure why but that seems to be the pattern.

Anyway Becker's book took me several important places. First it made me think about being human and grappling with pain, disappointment, joy and hope. Second, it reminded me of my own experiences with people who have disabilities, notably my aunt Liz. And finally third, it brought me back to being a mother and probably for the first time I felt some of the things in this book different because I have a child.

Let me deal with that third piece first, this book chronicles Becker and her husband's first child, Penny. She is born with Down Syndrome which is a surprise to everyone since the prenatal testing did not reveal this. Having had a baby myself in the last year I couldn't help but place myself in her shoes and ask "what would I have done? How would I have responded to this?" Over and over I found myself struck by the similarities and differences of having children who are "typical" vs "disabled". I thought about Nemo and her ease with development and my expectations that she would develop at a typical rate. How different our lives could be if she had a disability that presented at birth... I suspect that part of the appeal of Becker's book is that many people can read her story and relate to the common experience of having a child while also seeing the differences highlighted. She does a fabulous job of sharing the comments people have made to her, mostly insensitive but said with good intentions, throughout the book. She seems to be a saint because I certainly would not have had as much grace as she appears too!

Aside from my own identification with Becker's motherhood I also found myself dwelling on memories of my Aunt Liz (my fathers younger sister who died in 2003 who had significant developmental/physical limitations). Many of the things Becker reports hearing about her daughter, I have memories of hearing about Liz. Things like, "she's a gift, what a special person and what a blessing" all of which were true. But I wonder what it was like for my grandparents when she was born, did they struggle with the questions Becker raises in her book about the nature of pain and Gods will in our lives? I wonder if they wrestled to find meaning in the midst of both tragedy and joy? By the time I was born they may have figured it it, I'm not sure. What I do know is that Liz played a significant role in my life and I saw her as a true blessing. I also saw the hard work that my grandparents put into taking care of her, though I'm sure I only understood a tiny part of that process. As the first grandchild/niece though I felt tremendously loved by Liz. She made me feel special just because I was hers. There are many pictures of my infant self in her arms and plenty more of me in one of her classic "hammer locks" as an older child and adolescent. Becker's book brought me back to all of those memories and highlighted the struggles present when joy and pain are mixed up together. Liz was a joy, a blessing but she also lived a life marked by physical and mental limitation. I think that's hard to reconcile in a world where we think that everything can be controlled or perfected if we just get it right. Sometimes you just can't and there will be sorrow, pain and even hopelessness but in the midst of that grace comes to teach us how to be and how to live. I am thankful that Becker's book took me to that place again.

The first idea that I mentioned, that this book reminded me of human connection and emotion, is also crucial in understanding my reactions. Becker spends a good portion of the book inside her own head but she also weaves in stories of how others reacted to her and her new family. The grace she displays for others is remarkable. People of course say the craziest things, I'm sure I've been guilty of these kinds of missteps in my life. But Becker discusses her reactions, gets angry, feels frustrated and occasionally walks away all while finding room to give people mercy in their ignorance. And how ignorant most of us are, really I was reminded again that most of us are fumbling around trying to say the "right thing" only to be completely wrong in what we do choose to say. Oy, how much we need forgiveness from each other. It's so much easier to just write people off when they do things that hurt or offend but Becker repeatedly reminded me that the road of grace and mercy is quite different.

I found it fascinating to see how her marriage functioned in the midst of this new development. It appeared throughout the book that she and Peter are the most well-adjusted married couple around, they rarely argue let alone fight! This where I wondered what might have been left out, perhaps for privacy's sake. It just seems that their adjustment as a couple is seamless and I would have expected a bit more conflict. Aside from that I was so taken in by the way they communicated and Peter's radical acceptance of their daughter, just as she was. Amazing and inspiring. But also very human, a reminder that sometimes we can rise above and just be God's grace and mercy.

I didn't really intend to write so much about this little book. But I loved it and I found myself close to tears throughout. This is an author I look forward to hearing and questioning about her thoughts on the interaction between her faith and her motherhood.

To end another pic of my favorite girl at her Grandma's over Thanksgiving...

The Hummingbird's Daughter 2006

As the year winds down I've been thinking about what my goals are for 2012. One thing I would like to nurture is my creative spirit. It's been a long time since I spent time really attending to my interests of reading fiction and dabbling in writing. So for 2012, I want to invest in my creative self. My first step in that direction is to attend the Festival of Faith and Writing at Calvin College. It's an every other year gathering of folks who are interested in the intersection of spiritual matters and the written word. My favorite librarian, Mary Post, invited me to join her in reading through the works of the authors who will be in attendance and then discussing them before the conference. So I've sent my elf to the library and he returned with piles of fiction and a few nonfiction pieces as well. I've been slowly working my way through them and it's amazing how books can bring me into deeper consideration of the world around me.

I just finished the EPIC novel by Luis Alberto Urrea, "The Hummingbird's Daughter." Since finishing it I've been trying to sum up my thoughts. It's more difficult than I would have expected. But then again its probably difficult because that's the tenor of the book, it's a deep and thorough read that can't be easily summed. For one thing the book has quite a bit of Spanish mixed in with the English so I'm certain that I missed nuances and allusions throughout the story. Also the plot moves slowly with a tremendous amount of attention placed on details of the environment and narrative style. It's a masterful work of fiction that part of me is finds amazing. The story is rich in historical context and character development. Then there is the land and the country that serve as an entire additional character. This is the type of novel I read and think, "wow, this must have taken decades to write!" (and yes the author reports that he had been working on it since 1984.) Its rich and deep and very well layered.

********If you do not want the plot spoiled please do not read any further!

All of that being said I still found myself struggling at points to get through. There were a number of places that the book seemed to lose me either in the somewhat trudging pace or the entrance of another character (there were many and it doesn't help that my lack of Spanish skills keep me from really remembering some of the names well!). But I pressed on and found the book rewarding in its completion. I think the piece that has stuck with me the most is his portrayal of a young girl's transformation from very human to saint. Teresa (the main character) seems at the beginning to be set for a significant role in life but it is very slow coming. Many times she also seems very human and common, much like ever eventual followers. I was struck by her slow progression to significance. She and Huila (who seems to play a sort of classic "cranky tough nut") in this story ever establish a affectionate bond but it is certainly loving in nature. Teresa's gifts are evident from the beginning and the novel seemed somewhat predictable until she is attacked. At that point several things happened that turned the story into a different entity all together. Probably most striking is that Teresa dies and comes back to life, i.e. is resurrected. Not vampire style ala Twilight, no she comes back human and very real. And it's a shock to everyone because she gets out of her coffin during the period of mourning and because she isn't quite herself. I though it was very fascinating that she came back to life and it took her several months/years to adjust back into humanity. Meaning she seemed to sort of live in an "out of body, dissociative experience" prior to really acclimating back into her body. During this time she had also strengthened her power to heal and people flocked to her in order to be cured of whatever ailment they experienced. So she has thousands of people making pilgrimages to her front lawn near the end of the story.

This is where the historical context becomes important. She is perceived as dangerous by the authorities since she preaches a message of love, equality and compassion. Dangerous, right? She is jailed and eventually exiled to the USA. Historically, there is nothing like preaching love that will get you jailed, killed or exiled, it appears. The book ends there, and I was left wondering what happens throughout the rest of her life. She was only 19 years old upon leaving Mexico though it seemed she should have been older based on the detail of the book. The author writes in the back that this story is based on a real person within his family who he grew up hearing about. He mentions historical documents that reference her and her works of healing. The book reads a bit like a family history with its many references to extended members of the Urrea clan and their properties.

Final word, I liked the book overall and probably found Teresa's mixture of humanity and sainthood the most interesting part. I will be interested to hear what this author has to say about his conceptualization of how humanity is affected by the experience of peering over the other side in to death and then coming back into the consciousness of the living as he writes in Teresa's character.

And just because here's Nemo... walking!

Another book report...

I recently finished the above book, Sarah's Key, as part of my crazy book reading blitz lately. This was a book that apparently is quite popular, I think a movie is being made out of it? MSD just picked it up from amazon for me a while ago when he was buying books he thought I might like. So I'm game to read a lot of different things and this novel presented some interesting story lines. So I read it and I now I'm kind of undecided about my overall opinion. On one hand I really like the way the past and present are woven together and function as a key part of the plot. Additionally, the historical context (Jews, Nazi's and deportation/death) in France was fascinating to read about. I enjoyed the novel's critical analysis of how human's can easily forget their participation in genocide even against their own people. It offered quite a critique of the larger human tendency to "move quickly past" items in history that are painful (hello! slavery in our country). Anyway that theme of what does it mean to remember is present throughout and I found that pretty interesting.

But the novel over all didn't feel that compelling. I still can't quite place my reasons why not but my gut feeling was that I didn't feel that connected to the characters or inhabited by the story. Perhaps it was the main character- she had this drive to find out about the little girl, Sarah, but aside from a few chance contextual factors it didn't seem that this compulsion was well explained. The reader is just sort of left to assume that this is a normal thing for a woman to simply drop everything to chase after this child's story. Now the story is interesting and certainly complex. But I wasn't drawn in to the storyline as I normally feel that I am in a novel. I would say that while interesting it wasn't a book that I would hand over to others to read- so I'd give it about a B overall.

There's another 5th grade book report, I'm sure there will be more to come but I have to turn my attention to preparing for the three classes I'm teaching this fall... oy!

Back to Anna Quindlen

It's been a while since I've read anything by Anna Quindlen. I followed her column in Newsweek pretty faithfully but once she stopped writing that I haven't found time to read many of her novels. But since I've now passed the licensing exam I have no excused not to read for fun anymore! (Not that I'm complaining, reading novels is one of my truest joys and pleasures in life.)

Around Christmas time MSD picked up a slew of novels for me by authors he knew I like (most of these books he found at the thrift store). And I've been picking my way through them (hence the musing on Kingsolver in the previous post). I just finished, "Black and Blue" by Quindlan.

Now when I first started this book I thought, "Why am I reading this???" Because as the title implies it's about a woman in an abusive relationship who's body is "black and blue" from beatings etc. The reason I questioned my read of the book is simply that I work with people's pain for a living and a book like this brings back the real examples I've seen. But on the other hand since I do the work I do I am always striving to understand a bit more of another person's experience in order to empathize.

So I pressed on with the book. It's main narrative is told by Fran whose emotions, experiences and thoughts drive the overall story. Quindlan does a good job with her characters, Fran is credible and conveys the overwhelming sense of fear she has toward her husband. The book starts with her taking her son and leaving her husband secretly. I felt her nervousness throughout the book and understood her constant vigilance over her son. Additionally, while reading I felt pretty much on edge the entire time. While not a relaxing read, certainly a more accurate one. This is not a pretty tale of escape and happy endings. I found myself wondering throughout the entire book when her husband would find them. It seemed inevitable.

In the meantime I was also impressed with Quindlan's portrayal of a woman trying desperately to make a home for her son and herself in a completely foreign environment. She finds ways to be resourceful and doesn't shirk difficult conversations with her son. She makes friends, finds a new life and starts to find herself in the process. That's probably the other reason I stuck with the book- I can appreciate a narrative where the main character is on a journey of self-discovery. In Fran's case this self-discovery is crucial to her survival not just personal growth.

Her husband does find her, but what happens after that isn't the most important part of the story. The critical part seems to be the act of leaving, of standing up and saying to herself that she wasn't going to take his abuse anymore. That she didn't deserve it. The other important part is her struggle to redefine herself and craft a new life. She is basically without any help and Quindlan doesn't glass over some of the more difficult aspects of her new life. The book feels real, raw and the emotions reflect that.

Overall a good read, but the emotions are challenging.

So what does lacuna mean?

I've been trying to remember when I was first introduced to Barbara Kingsolver's work. I think it was through reading "The Poisonwood Bible" in my early 20's. My most favorite librarian, Mary Post, loaned it to me along with a stack of other books. (If I am recalling correctly I was also reading Kingsolver's work in a college course titled "Wild Women of the Natural World." Excellent course for my budding feminist self!) For me there is an excitement to finding a new writer whose stories you can get inside and just experience. For me Kingsolver is that kind of author. I have devoured her novels and read several more than once. The Poisonwood Bible is actually not my favorite, I'm more a fan of The Bean Trees and Animal Dreams. Those stories have invited me in and seem to unravel effortlessly before me. I just finished reading her latest story, The Lacuna. I'll confess at first I had no idea what that word meant. But after reading the story it does seem to fit. And that's the thing about Kingsolver her work is deep and layered. Now another confession, it took me two different attempts several months apart to successfully start and finish this book. The beginning is somewhat "different". Not bad or good, just slow to get into. Perhaps part of the issue is that I could just step into the other novels and feel the storyline. With this book I had to wade in and then come out and get my bearings, at least in the beginning. There are so many details, most of which made very little sense to me at the beginning. So I'd read a bit, stop for a while and then go back for a bit more. I think it really started to flow when Frida Kahlo's character begins to occupy a central role. At that point I felt invested in Harrison and more than a little curious of what might become if him. Kingsolver wove this story more contextually into history it seems than her other works. So my US history knowledge was also tested! Perhaps my favorite part of the book is the life of Trotsky. The tenderness with which he is portrayed seems to balance the chaos of Harrison's life. However, throughout that entire portion of the narrative I found myself anticipating tragedy. When the main character is working for someone whose whole life is spent avoiding assassination it can't end well. Interestingly this portion of the book seems like the most at home Harrison feels throughout the entire story. And yes the section does end tragically.

When I finished this portion of his life I found myself a little surprised that almost half the book still remained. Where else would she take Harrison I wondered?

The last part of the book takes place in the US during the Red Scare. Having not lived through that part of history myself I have to rely on my history books to help me understand the power that an accusation of communist activity carried. Kingsolver's book brings this reality to the forefront. It struck me how easily an individual could be made into a suspect or seen as "the other". I wasn't necessarily surprised as this still goes on today in our contemporary society pretty frequently (think accusations of terrorism). But what is striking in the novel is that Harrison is really nobody, perfectly normal and average. Yes, he writes bestselling novels but they are "fluff" fiction according to his own words. He is not a threat in any capacity to the US government. And yet it is so simple, perhaps deceptively easy to identify him as a communist without evidence. Makes me think about what it means to find someone guilty of such unobservable crimes.

The book's slow introduction isn't a precursor to it's overall storyline. I found myself enraptured as the tale unfolded. I also felt pressed to pick my own brain to see what historical facts I could pull up for context as Harrison navigates the US and Mexico, famous artists and communist leaders. I still need to read up on central american history and it's relationship to the SSSR/Russia in order to really understand all of her references. Overall a thoroughly enjoyable read with an important twist at the end that I had to re-read to make sure I got it.

Also the word lacuna means- gap. This is due to the gaps in the storyline and an important physical place Harrison discovers in his boyhood.

Thanks Barbara for another great story!