"At This Moment He Can Think Only One Thing: How Was It Possible, He Wonders, To Have Been So Wrong."

When I first started Everything I Never Told You, I thought it was going to be a clever, but strikingly similar to other recent fiction I've read, whodoneit story about the death of a young high school girl, Lydia Lee. But I was VERY very pleasantly surprised that this novel ended up being pretty much nothing like that. 

Yes, Lydia Lee dies by drowning in the lake by her Middlewood, Ohio home, but the resulting story is not necessarily about who may have had a hand in her death, but instead is the unfolding story of the Lee family in the late 1960s through the mid 1970s: James, a Chinese American Harvard-educated professor working at a small college, his wife Marilyn, a brilliant and promising academic with big dreams who met James while attending Radcliffe, their oldest son Nath, their daughter Lydia, and youngest daughter Hannah. Marilyn had always expected to make something remarkable of her life, rejecting her mother's goals for her to marry a "nice Harvard man." After falling in love and marrying a Chinese American man as a white woman, and promptly having children, no longer pursuing her dreams of being a doctor, she somehow finds herself living the exact life that she had tried to avoid. When Marilyn deserts her family to go back to school, it tears a rift in the fabric of all of their lives and things are never the same. 

Marilyn discovers she is pregnant with Hannah and returns to her family, abandoning school. She chooses to shift all of her dreams to Lydia, to raise her to be the person that she wasn't able to be. On the flip side, after experiencing discrimination his entire life, all James wants for Lydia is to fit in, have friends, and be popular. Between both parents, Lydia is completely smothered. The other children are largely ignored. 

Where the novel really shines is in the exact meaning of the title: everything that is never said. All five characters have so so  many missed opportunities to express things to each other that would likely have averted Lydia's fate: James to Marilyn, Nath to Lydia, Lydia to Nath, Hannah to Lydia, Hannah to her parents, Nath to his parents. So many things held back. So many things observed but not spoken aloud. So many things suffered in silence. It was very brilliantly done. 

I found I enjoyed the book much more than I thought. The exact writing itself didn't necessarily blow me away (I'm still on a God of Small Things high where I'm measuring everything against the exquisite language there), but as a whole, the characters and story was intertwined so well that it caught up with me by the end. I'm glad that I had the chance to read it. As a side note, according to good old Wikipedia, Celeste Ng's favorite novel is The God of Small Things. Go figure. 

After this break from the lists, back I go with Go Tell It on the Mountain by James Baldwin. I am officially off work until January 4th so I plan to spend the next week and a half doing nothing except relaxing and reading. 

"And the Air was full of Thoughts and Things to Say. But at times like these, only the Small Things are ever said. The Big Things lurk unsaid inside."

Normally I capitalize every word in the heading of the blog post, which is always a quote from the book I have finished. This was the first and probably only (we'll see) time that I made sure that the capitalization matched what was in the book. Because there were so many nuances in the author's choices in the format of the text that were deliberate and added so much to the meaning of the content.

And ya'll. The God of Small Things blew me away. 

It got me to thinking. As an occasional writer (ok, so technical writing is my full time job, but occasional fiction writer), all writers have access to all the same words. Sure, there are some who have slightly more advanced vocabularies than others. But for the most part, 99% of the words we all know are the same. So what Arundhati Roy was able to do with words, all the same words as I have access to, just blew my mind. And certainly made me think, "Oh yeah, no way I could ever in a million years write the way she does." I don't mind being brought down many pegs to be able to experience something this brilliant. 

And I don't throw around the word brilliant often. I think I tend to be pretty tepid with saying that every book was one of the most amazing things I've ever read. But this book honestly is. There is so much vivid imagery and creativity in what she presents about the environment, the characters, their actions, their inner thoughts. Like nothing I've ever read. And such a clever use of repetition throughout the book for key details about the characters, their physical attributes, things that happen to them, the world they exist in. I may be repetitive myself, but all I can keep saying is that it just blew me away. It was a book that I delighted in getting drawn into and one that I know would benefit from being read a second time.

As a just a quick summary of the story, it tells of two inseparable fraternal twins, Rahel and Estha, who live in Ayemenem, India and the fateful events that occur when their cousin, Sophie Mol, comes to visit from England in 1969. The children have their own lush world, part imagination, part very harsh reality. There are complex family dynamics and each character's history is explored. There is a backdrop of political issues (the burgeoning of communism in India, the persistence of the caste system) and an illicit love affair that leads to some of the horrific events that conclude the novel. Although, while these events "conclude" the novel, the storyline is split up throughout the book and heavy foreshadowing allows the reader to have a pretty clear idea of how things are going to end. But that doesn't make it any less shocking and terrible.

This book just rocketed up my list of favorites. I will probably say it again and again, but I've really never read anything quite as exquisite and lush with imagery. And written in a way that is new and interesting and compelling. And not done just for the sake of doing it. But because that is the story and who these characters are and the fiber of every moment of the book is made better by the way it is written. I wish I could provide a better explanation of what exactly it is that makes this novel so exemplary, but even with 99% of the same words, I cannot even remotely do it justice. 

So read it. READ IT. 

I'm taking a momentary pause from the lists to pick up Everything I Never Told You by Celeste Ng. I'm on break for the holidays starting next week so I wanted to pick up something to usher me into my glorious free time that I felt I could read quickly. I also have some quality time in the waiting room of a hospital next week, ripe for reading. We'll move on back to the lists after that. I'm hoping to finish this one before the end of the year and squeeze in a year recap post, but we'll see how that goes. 

197 left to go.     

"The Search Is What Anyone Would Undertake If He Were Not Sunk In The Everydayness Of His Own Life"

The Moviegoer was certainly not what I was expecting. For starters, it's really not about an individual who goes to see movies at all. I mean, there is partly that. The main character, Binx Bolling, does enjoy going to movie houses all over to see films (the novel is set in the late 1950s), but as part of a larger personal exploration. I guess I was expecting it to be the center feature of the book and that more of the character's life would have revolved around his fixation with movies. But that really wasn't the case. 

The idea of a "moviegoer" was more about someone who saw things in life in a certain way, like Binx did. I found him to be a very interesting character but one who I had a hard time necessarily liking or rooting for. He felt like a bit of a cross between Holden Caulfield and Meursault from The Stranger. He was very disenchanted and apathetic about most things in life (with the exception of making money; that seemed to bring him some amount of satisfaction). He had a lust for women (particularly the ones who were assigned to him as a secretary), but then as soon as he got what he wanted from them, he would lose interest and a general malaise would come over him. But when faced with difficult, uncomfortable moments, he found himself needing to be with a woman (and not necessarily sexually, just needed that presence and that conquest), which I found to be an interesting aspect of the book. 

Binx is a stock broker in New Orleans who was injured during the Korean War. His father was killed when he was younger and he ended up being largely raised by his aunt, who is from a traditional southern, wealthy family. He has a close relationship with his cousin Kate (who he eventually marries...I guess first cousins wasn't a deal-breaker in the south in the 1950s), who is suicidal with a myriad of mental health issues. She states that Binx is the only one who can tell her what to do and she'll do it and keep her from the brink, which sounds like a great foundation for a healthy relationship. 

But Binx just doesn't ascribe to everyday life (what he calls "everydayness"). He seems detached from every relationship he has (from his mother and his step-siblings, to his aunt, to his new fling Sharon, and even to Kate) and views them through a vague, uninterested lens. However, he is on the "search" for meaning, for God, for something to give his life reason. And while he never seems to be able to find what he's looking for, he also doesn't even really seem to know what he's looking for. He struggles to relate to just about everyone and while he tries to find comfort in movies, he still seems to be isolated by his unwillingness to succumb to the everydayness and the contrived expectations of how people are supposed to behave (which is exemplified in the character of his aunt). 

And I don't want to make it sound like I disliked the book. I actually liked it quite a bit. It was the kind of book that I wish I had read in a literature class to be able to discuss some of the scenes with a group of other people. The novel definitely felt different and "new". While existentialism and questioning ones purpose isn't necessarily revolutionary content, the modern context (movies and his immediate environment) and the very keen observations of the world around gave the novel a very specific place and moment. So yeah, a book that surprised me a bit. 

Up next is The God of Small Things by Arundhati Roy. 198 to go. Happy Thanksgiving!   

"He Was Building From Day To Day On The Possibility Of Disgust, But Each Day Brought Forth Meanwhile A New And More Engaging Bend Of The Road."

Well didn't The Ambassadors just take all the wind out of my sails? Here I was, engaged with reading all spring and summer, clocking book after book, more quickly than I have in years. And then this one just screeched me to a halt, taking nearly 2 months to finish. It didn't take much for me to understand why...I just could not have cared less about The Ambassadors. 

The novel tells the story of Strether, an older man sent on an errand by his fiancee, Mrs Newsome, to retrieve her son, Chad, from his galivanting in Paris to once and for all return to Wollett Massachusetts to run the family business. Simple enough right? Well once Strether arrives in Europe he becomes completely entranced with everything about it. About all of the magnificent people, their lovely gatherings, and of course, beautiful Paris. He also finds Chad so much more remarkable than he anticipated and truly admires the young lad. Chad has taken up acquaintance with a wonderful group of friends, in particular, Madame de Vionnet. She is an older, married woman with a beautiful charming daughter, and Strether all along thinks that Chad's relationship with Madame de Vionnet is not an amorous one. 

Throughout his time there, Strether becomes a different version of himself. He sees all of the wonderful things that he had missed out on during his youth by not exploring the world and seeking the kind of experiences that Chad is having. Sensing that Strether is not fulfilling his obligation of bringing Chad home, Mrs Newsome sends her daughter and her husband to finish the job. Her daughter is far more practical and determined and isn't even remotely impressed with Chad's life or with Paris. I won't disclose the ending, but suffice it to say that Stether may not have seen everything as it truly was and in the end believes that while he has changed so significantly, he doesn't deserve to benefit in any way from his time in Paris. 

My biggest issue with the book that I probably asked myself every time I picked it up was "Who the eff cares??" The book is almost 500 pages devoted to the hyper-over-analysis of every inner thought, motivation, impression, interpretation, every single minute everything that this one character experiences. I mean like, super duper overanalyzing every single thing. And who gives a rat's ass if the son comes home to work in the family business or not?? It's not like he was a fugitive or something. The topic was treated like it was the most important, significant thing in the world, and the whole time all I could thing was "Who cares?" I get that the novel was written in the early 1900s when it was of the most paramount importance that a son follow in his father's footsteps and carry on a successful business. But even then, who cares? The gravity of the situation as I saw it just didn't match up to how severe it was in the book to deserve the lengthiest prose ever to examine every ridiculous angle of everything. Similarly, the relationship between Chad and Madame de Vionnet ended up being such a big deal as to reputations and perceptions of society, and all the while, I was thinking, "So what? He's carrying on with a married woman. Does this really deserve such drama?" But apparently it did. I don't always feel that the time period of a book feels so grossly different than now such that it makes the book entirely irrelevant, but that was my main takeaway from this novel. 

One of my reasons for picking up this book (aside from the fact that I actually quite enjoyed Wings of the Dove) was that The Talented Mr Ripley was supposedly based on The Ambassadors. But it was really only the base premise of one man going to Europe to retrieve a son on behalf of the family that they had in common. The rest of the characters and certainly the plot line didn't fall in sync between the two. But I'm at least glad I got to see that. 

What I'm not glad about is that I still have 4 more books on my lists by Henry James. After the slog through this one, I'm not looking forward to the others (again, even though I have liked others of his). But hopefully I can right the ship of interest in reading again with The Moviegoer by Walker Percy. This one certainly intrigues me just based on the premise, so we'll see if the book itself matches up with expectations! 

I am officially under the 200 mark...199 to go! 

"Blind, That's What I Am. I Never Opened My Eyes. I Never Thought To Look Into People's Hearts, I Looked Only In Their Faces. Stone Blind..."

 So, a little context on Go Set a Watchman. Harper Lee notoriously never published another novel after To Kill a Mockingbird and was very adamant about this throughout her lifetime. Her sister Alice was her caregiver and managed her accounts throughout her life. Her sister was her advocate and pushed back on many of the requests made of Harper Lee that she did not wish to fill. So many found it to be quite suspicious that the announcement of the publication of this book was made only two months after her sister died. At this point, Harper Lee was in her late 80s and hard of hearing and had largely lost her sight. Many felt that Lee was manipulated into agreeing to publish Go Set a Watchman without having full comprehension as to what she was agreeing to, even including investigations into elder abuse. It is alleged that the existence of the manuscript was known for many many years, and the agency was simply waiting until her sister died so they could fast track it for publishing.

And while Go Set a Watchman was initially touted as a "sequel" to To Kill a Mockingbird, Lee had provided an explanation that the novel was actually a first draft of To Kill a Mockingbird that she had provided to her editor. The editor had considered it a good effort, but not publishable and encouraged Lee to write the story from the perspective of Jean Louise (Scout) as a child, as she felt the flashbacks in Go Set a Watchman were the most compelling part of the story. Hence, To Kill a Mockingbird. (There are separate controversies about how the perceived-by-some, low quality of Go Set a Watchman somehow manifested into this amazing polished work of To Kill a Mockingbird in such a short timeframe, but I'll leave that argument for others to tease apart). There are differing opinions about whether Lee was happy about Go Set a Watchman being published. It sounds as though she was happy to learn that the manuscript still existed and her new attorney stated that Lee was happy about the book being published. But those who knew Lee disagree with this assessment - that she never would have agreed to it, consistent with the stance she had held her entire life. 

So with that background laid, all I have to say is this: THIS BOOK SHOULD NEVER HAVE BEEN PUBLISHED. 

No writer would ever have consented to have an early draft of a novel published, especially without any opportunity to revisit the work and improve it. And given that this was an early draft of To Kill a Mockingbird, hey guess what?? Harper Lee did revise and improve it...it's called To Kill a Mockingbird. 

So all of that controversy aside, I tried to read the book at face value, and boy oh boy, it's been a long time since reading something made me really angry. I acknowledge the problematic issues around To Kill a Mockingbird - the racist experience in 1940s/1950s Alabama being told by white characters and a white author instead of through the black experience. But this book made that seem like child's play. 

The book takes place ~20 years after the events of To Kill a Mockingbird, with Jean Louise returning to Maycomb from New York to visit her family and her sort of boyfriend, Henry, during the time of civil rights and desegregation. While Jean Louise seems to be the moral compass in the novel (and again, even she is problematic), and the one who is the least racist, she's kind of an insufferable, annoying character. So if she's supposed to be the "heroine" here, she's not a very convincing one. 

But I'm not actually convinced she's supposed to be the voice of good in this novel. Jean Louise inadvertently sits in on a town meeting, including her father Atticus and Henry, where everyone is very strongly opposing desegregation in their town. The invited speaker drops the n-word many times, and Jean Louise's whole world is ripped apart seeing that her father, who she (and every reader ever!) has put on a pedestal as the embodiment of righteousness and honor and respect for all human beings, might actually be a racist. After seeing this, the novel moves to face-offs with all the people she cares about (Henry, her aunt, her uncle, and ultimately, her father) where they all try to convince her that she is completely wrong and segregation is what's best and that black people don't deserve the equality they're seeking. I mean, for fucks sake, her uncle slaps her across the face because she's so one-minded about the situation. 

But the final interaction with Atticus is what left me fuming. Like I was actually verbally expressing my anger at the story to anyone nearby who would listen. For example (dialogue from Atticus): 

 "This is merely for your own information, that's all: so far in my experience, white is white and black's black. So far, I've not yet heard and argument that has convinced me    otherwise....

Now think about this. What would happen if all the Negroes in the South were suddenly given full civil rights? I'll tell you. There'd be another Reconstruction. Would you want your state governments run by people who don't know how to run 'em? Do you want this town run by - now wait a minute - Willoughby's a crook we know that, but do you know any Negro who knows as much as Willoughby? Zeebo'd probably be the mayor of Maycomb. Would you want someone of Zeebo's capability to handle the town's money? We're outnumbered you know.

Honey, you do not seem to understand that the Negroes down here are still in their childhood as a people. You should know it, you've seen it all your life. They've made terrific progress in adapting themselves to white ways, but they're far from it yet..."

So yeah, in case you still had any redeeming views of Atticus as an honorable man who fights for justice for all, lemme just spare you any more uncertainty and let you know that apparently this book rebrands Atticus as a big ol' racist. And the entire perspective of Scout's family that she's vehemently fighting against is that blacks don't need to be treated badly, but they shouldn't be treated equally. And even though, as I mentioned, Jean Louise seems to be the voice of reason here, even she is problematic, acknowledging how much she dislikes the NAACP, how furious she was at the decision of Brown vs Board of Education, and how she would never marry a black man. 

Everything about this book sits wrong with me...there's so much racist garbage in it that, like I said, it made me angry. I realize that this was written back in the 1950s, but that does not give any of it a pass; one review I read said it perfectly: that this novel is on the wrong side of history. It just makes me dislike Harper Lee for these, her politics, written in an unfiltered, unedited way. As I mentioned earlier, I realize that To Kill a Mockingbird is problematic for some of its racist issues, Go Set a Watchman one-ups it with so much racism abound. 

So the only place I can land, again, is that this book never should have been published. Clearly as a money grab by her publisher, I don't suspect they anticipated the negative impact it would have on the legacy of the author and on the re-interpretation of To Kill a Mockingbird. Not to say that she in any way should have been protected from having this expose her, but again, it just should never have happened. 

Don't read this book. Even in spite of all of what I've said above, it isn't even a very well-written book. The narrative jumps all over the place (hey, I don't mind a good flashback now and then) and there just isn't much likeable about it. So yeah, hard pass on this one. 

Now that that vent is through, I've moved on to The Ambassadors by Henry James. When I read The Talented Mr. Ripley (which I loved), I learned that it was based on The Ambassadors. So I'm looking forward to seeing in which ways this story mirrors that one. Progressing onward.  

"In Advising His Young Patients To Abandon The Attempt At Repression And To Let Themselves Feel The Pity And Terror Their War Experience Inevitably Evoked, He Was Excavating The Ground He Stood On"

Regeneration by Pat Barker was fantastic. Just putting it out there straight up. The story of a decorated British officer serving in World War I who refuses to continue fighting, not because the war can't be won or because of pacifism, but because he feels the war could be over but the powers that be derive benefit from it continuing, in spite of the horrors experienced by the soldiers and the continuing mounting deaths. As a way around his being court martialed, he is considered mentally unstable and committed to a mental institution. 

And here in the mental institution is where we learn about all of the horrible traumas the soldiers are enduring, completely aside from physical injuries: the soldier who was launched into the air by an exploding shell and landed on a decaying body with a bloated gut that ruptured in his face, swallowing some of the decaying flesh, who now vomits continuously at any smell or mention of food. Those who have inexplicably gone mute. So many with nightmares. And Dr. Rivers is the military psychiatrist assigned to assessing and restoring the mental health of these soldiers in order to send them back to the front lines. 

While sometimes, it was hard not to feel some absurdity of a group of patients with differing types of mental illness all interacting in different ways, I assure you, there was no intention of humor here. The book was certainly a reminder of what World War I was: the war that ushered in a new era of brutality in warfare and how horribly it messed up millions of young men who fought and managed to "survive". While the book doesn't technically take place on the front lines in the trenches, the impact of what the soldiers experienced is just as terrible and impactful. I was surprised to learn that the two main characters, Siegfried Sassoon (the dissenting officer) and Dr. Rivers were based on real-life individuals.  

The book also had some very interesting themes around masculinity and overshadowing to homosexuality. Talking about how men of the time (and really, not too much different now) were raised to believe that any show of emotion was considered weakness so they all bottled up the traumas they experienced during the war. And instead, the repressed fear manifests in all of these different and terrible ways and the men feel such shame for even having these feelings. And similarly, during wartime, the soldiers are bound to each other by duty and experience the most intense moments together as possible, and are taught to protect each other like brothers. So a certain type of love develops there. But where is the line in how acceptable that love is? It's ok in the moment, but is then considered unacceptable once they return to civilian life. How are these two very different manifestations of love reconciled? 

Pat Barker went on to write two additional books on World War I, the third of which, The Ghost Road, went on to win the Booker Prize in 1995. Even though I haven't read the second two books yet, just based on my experience with Regeneration, I could definitely see how this was possible. I wish that this book (and the rest of hers) got more notoriety in today's time because it was quite brilliant in it's storytelling and writing. 

So, I'm actually back dating this post by a couple weeks, because I finished Regeneration about a month ago and moved on to Go Set a Watchman by Harper Lee, which I also finished a week or so ago. And booooyyyy, do I have a LOT to say about that one. Stay tuned. Oh, and completing Regeneration put me at exactly 200 books left to go. Holla!   

"...But All Their Intercourse Had Been Made Up Of Just Such Inarticulate Flashes, When They Seemed To Come Suddenly Upon Happiness As If They Had Surprised A Butterfly In The Winter Woods..."

I'm sure this has been said many times before by many different individuals who have read works by Edith Wharton, whether it be a casual reader or a more seasoned literary expert, but damn ya'll, girlfriend has a gdamn way with words.

Ethan Frome felt more like a really long short story to me because it had that feeling of every single word being filled with intent, to convey a specific meaning and evoke an exact emotion. There wasn't anything superfluous. The story begins with a narrator telling of his discovery of and interaction with Ethan Frome and how he puts together the story or Ethan's past that has made him the way he is. The storytelling then shifts to the actual events of Ethan's life, of his "sickly" (and kind of awful) wife Zeena and her young cousin, Mattie, who has come to take care of Zeena, having no other family to turn to. Mattie becomes the shining light of Ethan's otherwise dreary life and he aches with the uncertainty of her feelings for him and it only accentuates the dismal circumstances of his own marriage to see the beauty and joy in Mattie, in spite of her own challenging upbringing. 

The longing in these two characters and trepidation in bridging a gap that could ruin them both is so well-written. You feel their heartache, most acutely, Ethan's. And you want to root for them, but there are enough foreshadows early on to alert the reader that no happy ending is going to be possible. The end was a bit of an unexpected surprise, which I very much appreciated (again, it felt like you knew exactly how things were going to end based on the portrait given of Ethan in the beginning, but Ms. Wharton had just one last surprise up her sleeve). 

There really isn't anything I can fault about this book. It's so carefully well-crafted, it makes me appreciate Edith Wharton even more than I already did (cos I sure did love me some Age of Innocence). She is certainly an author I would want to read more of after I finish her one remaining title on my list. 

Next up is Regeneration by Pat Barker. A British officer refusing to continue in World War I being treated as psychologically insane? Sounds like something I'm going to enjoy. 

201 to go! (Almost going to break under that 200 barrier!!).    

"The White Man Is Very Clever. He Came Quietly And Peaceably With His Religion. We Were Amused With His Foolishness And Allowed Him To Stay. Now He Has Won Our Brothers, And Our Clan Can No Longer Act Like One. He Has Put a Knife On The Things That Held Us Together And We Have Fallen Apart."

The title quote for this post, to me, was the most important and impactful couple sentences in the entire book of Things Fall Apart. And was exactly what I was thinking about when I came to it in the novel. And I'm sure it is representative of the entire experience of white colonization of Africa. That on the surface there seemed to be this need on the part of white Christian Europeans to convert the "godless" natives of Africa, and that was how they initially made their inroads to the continent, but forced government was not far behind, and by then it was too late for the African tribes. 

The story is about Okonkwo, a strong and powerful leader of the Umuofia tribe in Nigeria, who is known as a fearless warrior. Okonkwo respects all of the traditions of his tribe and honors the spirits and gods that his tribe believes in. Suffice it to say that Okonkwo is a hyper-masculine individual and views any deviation from this as a sign of weakness, which, in his eyes, is not acceptable. He beats his wives and children, he works tirelessly to accumulate more wealth, and to rise to the highest possible rank within his tribe. After an unfortunate incident where Okonkwo's gun, fired during an animated tribal ritual, accidentally kills the son of one of his fellow tribal leaders, Okonkwo and his entire family are banished from the tribe for a duration of 7 years. They go to reside with his mother's tribe, the Mbanta. During this time, white missionaries arrive and set up a church on the outskirts of Mbanta. Little by little, they recruit more members from the tribe to believe in the one Christian god (a lot of those converting do so because they see things about their own gods that they don't like and don't agree with, and so prefer this new option). By the time Okonkwo returns to Umuofia, his oldest son has converted and his former tribe has also become significantly transformed by the presence of the white missionaries and government officials - the progress in Umuofia is even more advanced than it was in Mbanta. Things don't go well for Okonkwo, as he still has the heart of a warrior and is not willing to follow the new laws imposed on him by the white colonists. 

I found it interesting that the white colonists didn't show up until about pg 140 of 209 pages of the book. So the first two-thirds of the book detailed the life of Okonkwo, his tribe, and their customs and beliefs. It felt like once the white missionaries arrived, the rest of the book moved along very quickly, with less time devoted to presenting the dynamics of the white men with the tribesmen. But I guess it didn't bother me that much, because in the overall context of the story, it worked. 

Okonkwo was not a very sympathetic character. I felt like you could see how he was the embodiment of where things went wrong and he was, in some ways, a contrast to the white missionaries. For example, he had a ward in his care for 3 years as a punishment to another tribe after a wife is killed and came to care and respect the kid. But once the clan determined that the retribution should be the death of the ward, Okonkwo sets his feelings aside and kills the kid himself. He beats his wives and children, and then is surprised when his son turns his back on him and converts to Christianity. His tribe isn't all that different either. For example, whenever a woman in the tribe gives birth to twins, they throw the children away into the forest to die. And instead of wondering if it could be something that he/they did to have wrought such bad fortune upon him/them, he/they keeps his/their hyper-masculine warrior attitude. And I'm not criticizing this. This was the way of African tribes and who am I to criticize their way of life and how they believed the gods guided their good or bad fortune?

And the slow-takeover by the white colonists was presented in the most honest and seemingly accurate way I've ever read. That it wasn't necessarily tanks and guns and forced indoctrination straight out of the gate, but coming in peace and offering a new option and there were enough clansmen who were doubting their own way of life and their own gods to embrace this new approach. And by the time they realized that they didn't want white men controlling their lives in every facet, it was far to late to make a stand. 

I would highly recommend this book. It has been an interesting contrast to have read Things Fall Apart and Out of Africa so close together - one written from the perspective of a white woman living in Africa and one from the perspective of a black African. There were some perspectives about native Africans that were very similar, but Out of Africa feels very glamorized now, compared to the life the people led in Things Fall Apart. And of course no space was given to the wrongful colonization and enslavement in Out of Africa. 

Up next is Ethan Frome by Edith Wharton. I expect this to be a quick read, clocking in a 157 pages. I loved The Age of Innocence so I'm sure I'll get sucked into this one too. 

202 to go!   

       

"When You Dig Just The Tiniest Bit Beneath The Surface, Everyone's Love Life Is Original And Interesting And Nuanced And Defies Any Easy Explanation"

Boy do I love a good, quick summer read. And fortunately, The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo fit that bill perfectly, cos I motored through her in 4 days while lounging in northern Michigan (ok, so I was technically still working too, but as soon as I could, I picked it up and enjoyed a nice summer breeze outside and read to my heart's content).

The book tells of Monique Grant, an underling writer at a magazine in New York who is suddenly given the opportunity to interview Evelyn Hugo, a legendary screen siren, now in her late 70s. Evelyn has been largely reclusive and out of the public eye, but from the 1960s through the 1980s, she was a force to be reckoned with in Hollywood, even winning an Oscar. But she seems to be most notorious for her 7 marriages (I know the immediate thought is to assume the character is based on Elizabeth Taylor, but it is definitely not). Evelyn ends up providing Monique with the full account of her life to be published as a posthumous biography, but Monique questions, why her? When it could have been any writer on earth to be the lucky recipient of one of Hollywood's most fascinating and sought after subjects, why did Evelyn select her? 

This does become an important element to the story late in the novel but the story really belongs to Evelyn. The book is divided into chapters/sections based on the story of each husband and while each husband is important to her life and each brings something different to her and her career, more importantly is the person who was the true love of Evelyn's life. And the reader discovers what Evelyn was willing to sacrifice to further her career. Evelyn was a complicated character for me...I both liked and disliked her. She was ruthless and prioritized her social climbing above all else, particularly when she was younger, but she was also so full of love and didn't take the people who she truly loved for granted. She was smug but devoted. Stubborn but persevered over adversity. Self-centered but loyal. 

The ending I did see coming (I may not have 100% put the exact piece together, but I sussed out the key "surprises"), but it was still satisfying nonetheless. I would say I would have liked the character of Monique to have been developed a bit more...she was given some basic characteristics (mother was white, father was black, was going through a separation/divorce) that I felt were intended to carry a lot about who she was as a person without developing those parts of her more. But as I mentioned, this was really Evelyn's story, so I can live with Monique not being as full of a portrait as Evelyn was. I'd definitely recommend this book for a quick, enjoyable read! 

And now I'm up to Things Fall Apart by Chinua Achebe. I think this is actually the first of a 3 part series, but it's the only one that appears on my book lists. I suspect by the time I get to the end (I'm already more than halfway through), I will probably feel like there is a lot more that needs to happen and/or be explained. Because right now, the novel feels a little like Out of Africa did...with many of the chapters providing short vignettes of one man's/family's tribal life in Africa. So I'm curious how it will eventually proceed...if there will be one distinct event that will occur that the rest of the book will center around or if it will continue in the same trend. We shall see! 

Happy reading! 

"I Have Heard Of People, Who, Upon Coming Suddenly Into Happiness, Have Died From Anxiety Lest They Should Not Live To Enjoy It"

For some reason I was expecting Return of the Native to be a complicated read as far as language. It had previously seemed to me that literature that I read from the 1800s was more difficult to make my way through, but I'm beginning to wonder if I just had a hard time getting engaged in the stories, because I've certainly quickly motored through some and not others. I think Return of the Native fell somewhere in the middle. The story was enough to keep me sufficiently roped into the narrative and I didn't particularly notice any complex, antiquated language. 

The story takes place in Egdon Heath, in the south of England and tells the story of a handful of characters whose lives and fates intertwine. Side note: the setting of the heath itself is as important to the story as the actual characters and events and actually impacts the story in many important ways. As a result, I had to Google what a heath was and pour over images to really get a full understanding of what the environment looked like - a very sparse, harsh, rural land. And hey, I learned what "furze" is, so there's that. 

Eustacia, a lovely young girl who is perceived by others on the heath as a dark and tempestuous, is in the midst of a love affair with Wildeve, who she discovers will be marrying another, Thomasin. Thomasin by contrast is a kind, fair and more angelic being, almost above reproach. And then returning from living in Paris is Thomasin's cousin, Clym, who instead of wanting to make a living in the exciting city is more interested in living simply on the heath and starting a school to provide insight and critical thinking to the simple folks and farmer's children. Eustacia falls madly in love with Clym, partly because he represents something new and exotic, partly to spite Wildeve, partly because she is certain she can use her feminine wiles to convince him to take her away to Paris to live, and partly because she truly does love him. And also thrown into the mix is Clym's mother, Mrs Yeobright, who has strong opinions about everything and feels that as a mother, she should be able to call the shots for her son and niece. 

Of course Eustacia and Mrs Yeobright don't get along. This quite annoyed the hell out of me, mostly on the side of Mrs Yeobright because she had never actually met Eustacia and formulated all of her very negative opinions of her just based on hearsay of the other heath residents. In fact, Mrs Yeobright bugged the crap out of me all the way around. She was very smug, selfish, and insistent about her way being how everyone else (her son in particular) should behave, and went about it in passive-aggressive way, always the victim. When Clym and Eustacia marry and Eustacia discovers his steadfast desire to remain at Edgon Heath, her feelings for Wildeve are rekindled and reciprocated. From here, things go south for just about everyone involved. 

I think what I enjoyed the most about the book was how well different, unfortunate situations were set up. There were so many ways in which all of the tragic events could have been avoided. Interventions from other side characters impacted the main characters in significant ways; interventions that were unintentional, happenstance, accidental, and just bad timing. The slightest modification in one person's behavior here and there could have changed the entire course of many lives. It felt quite Shakespearian, but I suppose those are elements of a good tragedy (is there such thing as a good tragedy?). And tragedy it is indeed. Good fortune does not smile down on anyone. 

The one thing I did struggle with, was the fact that none of the characters were very likeable. Or maybe it's more accurate to say that all of the characters were very complex and had redeeming and dislikable characteristics, and I while I liked them being multi-faceted and more human, I still had a hard time rooting for anyone. Even characters like Clym and Thomasin who seemed designed to be contrasts to Wildeve and Eustacia (more good-hearted than wicked) just annoyed me. Is it strange that I disliked the "nice" characters? Maybe that says more about me than them. 

Next up, I'm taking a brief break from the lists to pick up The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo by Taylor Jenkins Reid. It seems to be a popular read and I've gotten a few recommendations for it. 

Other random notes:

• There is a feature on Goodreads that allows you to set a goal for the number of books you want to read for the year. I have set mine at 25, even though I'm only at 10. But I've significantly picked up my reading since years past, so I'm hoping to get pretty close to that number if not reach it. 
• I discovered in my tracker of the number of books I have left to read that I was missing Return of the Native (grrr...). So as a result, I am still stuck on 203 books left to go. Boooo. 

Happy Saturday of reading!    

"And Before We Judge Of Them Too Harshly We Must Remember What Ruthless And Utter Destruction Our Own Species Has Wrought, Not Only Upon Animals, Such As The Vanished Bison And The Dodo, But Upon Its Own Inferior Races"

Well I guess it's fair to say I enjoy a book when I motor through it in 4 days. But man, did I just love War of the Worlds. Everything I knew about the book/story was only from the Tom Cruise movie and from the Orson Wells radio version that shared the bejeezus out of people (apparently, there have even been tv movies re-telling the panic that ordinary citizens experienced that night). So I didn't really know for sure what the real War of the Worlds story was and where artistic license for the other versions kicked in. 

I won't go into details about the plot because I'm sure most are at least somewhat familiar with the concept of aliens landing on earth and being bent only on complete annihilation of humans. But the book gives GOBS of details about what their "cylinders" look like, their activity once they arrive, what they look like, and a moment-by-moment description of what the townspeople are doing, and how things progress. The story is told through a narrator (whose name is not given) who lives in close proximity to the first cylinder that arrives, and chronicles his activities and movements to try to save his wife and his own life. 

First off, it's astonishing to me that this book was written in 1898. And there is unique benefit/insight to reading this book over 120 years later. Because there are so many very astute observations and predictions about the world and about humans that are achingly on point. For example, the quote making up the title of this post. In reading the Introduction that came with the book, I was fascinated to learn about the scientific and philosophical proclivities of H.G. Wells and how he would ascertain things from history to try to advise against repeating them in the future. One quote notes that "...Wells saw history as a 'race between education and catastrophe.'" Many of his works were warnings about the consequences of the actions of humans. And while at its core, the book is a simple story of "What If," it's hard not to let other themes creep in like, Why do humans feel that we are allowed to trounce all over other species/races? Or, We really are that foolish to think we're the greatest in the universe? I felt like these thoughts in the background, hinted at here and there, give the book a much weightier feel beyond just a scary alien attack. 

But don't get me wrong...alien attack there was! And every page is just chock full of suspense and devastation that to say it's a page turner doesn't do it justice. And really almost every alien anything in the last century is indebted to this book for inspiration...Independence Day, Cloverfield, A Quiet Place, etc etc. So way ahead of his time. There is also so much detail regarding the place to place activities, I was CONSTANTLY looking at a map of the London suburbs where the action was taking place to have a super accurate idea of what all of the movements were.

So yes, suffice it to say that I just loved this book. I do also have The Time Machine on my lists of books and that bad boy may have just creeped quite a bit higher up the list just because I enjoyed this one so much. I may even watch the movie again just to compare against the book (note: the narrator in the novel didn't have any kids so the addition of the obnoxiously screaming Dakota Fanning in the movie was an addition that I would have loved to have done without). 

Next up is The Return of the Native by Thomas Hardy. I'm actually part way through the book already, and I'm sure I'll have a bunch to say about this one. 

One other thing that happened in the last couple weeks related to my reading is that I joined Goodreads. My sister has been bugging me to join for a while and I just never got around to it I already track my book lists painstakingly enough here that I wasn't all that eager to have yet another place to go to. HOWEVER, I am a big fan! In particular, I love the ability to have a place to track books I want to read (beyond my book lists of course); this was previously existing as a note on my phone that I would add to as books came up. I also love being able to set a yearly goal for yourself and track the progress. I've set my goal at 25 books, knowing that I'm currently at 9 books. Does that make me think I can't read 16 books in just over 5 months? Nope, it's just going to motivate me even more. I've had such a fire under my ass to read since my break between jobs, and this is just one additional motivator to keep going! 

203 to go!  

"The Grass Was Me, And The Air, The Distant Invisible Mountains Were Me, The Tired Oxen Were Me."

If I take away anything from reading Out of Africa, is how much I now want to go on a safari. I legit started looking at tours on the website of the travel company we've used before the moment that I finished reading the book. 

And I guess that's a testament to how much the book conveyed a feeling and how the descriptions gave the reader so much of a sense of place and environment. I feel like I could close my eyes and see the night air filled with stars on the grassy plains. Or that I could see the Ngong hills in the distance from the coffee plantation. 

But there's something interesting and a bit suspicious about the book. Isak Dinesen is the pen name used by Karen Blixen and her narrative in the book is largely a grouping of chapters of vignettes of situations that occurred during her time running a coffee plantation in Kenya, just outside of Nairobi. And while the vignettes are interesting and coupled with the lush, lovely descriptions of the people and landscapes, there is an impartiality of the way it is told and it felt like there was something that I wasn't understanding or something that was missing. When my boyfriend asked me if I had seen the movie and "if I knew what it was about," it made me even more suspicious. 

After doing some research about Karen Blixen, there sure was a lot that she tactfully omitted from the book. There is only mention of her husband once, briefly in passing, but no discussion of his role on the farm or the fact that he had many affairs and they ultimately got divorced. And she discusses often the character of Denys Finch Hatton as being a close friend who lived and guided safaris and who would often come stay with her at the farm, but she fails to mention that he was her love. She also doesn't mention any of the other salient details of these men in her life, like the fact that her husband gave her syphilis and that she travelled back to Europe for treatment (which sounds to be quite excruciating with long-term after-effects). 

So now thinking about the book, I don't quite know how to place it. I certainly get her desire to present the context of her life while living there in whatever way she wanted to, and if that included omitting some more scandalous details, then have at it sister. But it makes the rest of the book feel a little more contrived and makes me wonder what other kinds of liberties were taken to present herself and her experiences in the finest light possible. 

In spite of this, I did find the book to be so interesting - to have such a perspective of how life was in Africa in the early 1900s was delightful to read. Although I cannot help but read it with the disdain of colonization and how casually the "ownership" of the natives' land is treated. I know I have to acknowledge the time that this was written and hope that we have learned since then (but all it takes is to look around to see that white people certainly continue to think they're entitled to the land of natives throughout the world). 

I'm doing a complete shift in my next book choice, moving on to War of the Worlds by H.G. Wells. I couldn't tell you the last time I read a science fiction book. And I'm hoping that any mention of children screaming doesn't evoke the feeling of wanting to punch Dakota Fanning in the face, because that's the main thing I can recall from the movie. 

204 to go!     

"Thus We Never See The True State Of Our Condition, Till It Is Illustrated To Us By Its Contraries; Nor Know How To Value What We Enjoy, But By The Want Of It"

Robinson Crusoe took me a minute to get into, but once rolling, I was sucked in. There was so much of it that was told in a very technical manner about how the character, after being shipwrecked on a deserted island, used what he could salvage from the ship to survive. But more accurately, thrive. I mean he farmed crops, tamed and raised livestock, built and created every manner of functional object (living dwellings, canoes, tables, baskets, pottery, etc). So the vast majority of the book was the nuts and bolts of how he came to live quite comfortably and happily. The last 80-100 pages however, switched focus to his interactions with those who were coming to the island (which was occurring for years without his knowledge). This part was much more action-packed (Cannibals! Shipwrecks! Capturing savages!) but was still written with a bit of impartiality to it, but given that the book was written as a memoir of remembrance long after the fact, it seemed appropriate. 

One of the main struggles of the characters throughout the book and the main thing that I disliked about the book was his coming into God and his faith during his time on the island. I surely get that he would question God for why he should have befallen such a terrible fate, and I surely get his sudden devotion to God to deem his survival as Providence and being divined for some particular reason. But what bothered me about it, was that the character, with nothing in the world but time and his thoughts, still only landed at the Christian god being the correct god (and not even other sects of Christianity but the one he was raised as, as at the end of the book, he opts not to go live in Brazil because everyone there is Catholic). All he had was a bible, but somehow he was able to determine the right teachings of God. 

There were maybe one or two moments when reflecting on the cannibals who came to the island where he almost opened his mind to the idea that there are cultures/tribes/peoples elsewhere in the world who had their own way of life and their own religions (or no religion). And instead of just accepting this, he determines that these people are without his Christian God because they have done something wrong and are doomed to suffer without God. And so feels it is his duty to save everyone and make them see what they're missing out on. This aspect of God-complex of white men in the 1600s/1700s (hell, even today) to colonize and insist on conversion of every people they encountered (often with penalty of death if not compliant) infuriates me. It's all done with the guise of "everyone should know God's love" which is a load of horse shit. It's all done as manipulation. Christ-driven, white man, colonization/patriarchy at its finest. 

This is also reflected in the casual inclusion of slavery in the novel as well. It's just a given in the book that English settlers buy slaves as a means to getting them what they want and making them rich. I get that this was written in the early 1700s when there was little question about whether any of this was ok. But it just infuriates me at the hypocrisy of this character (and the author really) who is so all about Jesus being everyone's savior, questioning the meaning of his life, and the reasons for his deliverance, but not even having a flicker of recognition of the injustice of inflicting pain on others. There is no self-awareness about whether any of that was ok under his own God when he, as a white man, was the one imposing that suffering on others. So yeah, the white man superiority which is presented as a natural given in this book made me angry enough to tarnish most of my other opinions about it. 

So moving on. Next up is Out of Africa by Isak Dinesen. I have some lovely time off coming up with family so I should be able to relax and spend some time reading. Or it's likely that, since we haven't seen each other in close to two years, that all we're going to do for a week is talk nonstop. It's a likely possibility. 

205 to go.       

"This Will Be One Defeat; More Will Follow. Victories Will Follow Too. You Are Not In This Life To Count Up Victories And Defeats. You Are In It To Love And Be Loved. You Are Loved With Your Head Down. You Will Be Loved Whether You Finish Or Not."

So a couple weeks ago, I had gone up north to my cottage for a few days to get a few things done before beginning my new job. And sadly, I drove three hours home and accidentally left one bag behind which contained my book (fortunately, it didn't contain any perishables). So knowing that I wouldn't be reunited with Robinson Crusoe for ~two to three weeks, I decided to pick one of the non-list books on my shelf and motor through it before I would get back up north to retrieve the left-behind book. Normally, I hate doing this, reading more than one book at a time. For some reason I need to focus on one book, one story, one style of writing. And because I'm so fond of checking things off lists, I need to feel as though I accomplished one task before moving on to the next. But I had the free time and didn't want to squander it watching some dumb shit on tv when I could be happily reading away. 

So the book I grabbed was We Are Not Ourselves by Matthew Thomas. This book was a random selection at the bookstore a couple years ago and it has been languishing on my shelf. Why I thought it was wise to choose a 620 page novel, I'll never know, but it just felt like the right choice to move on to one that had been staring me in the face for years. And apparently, I can read 620 pages in 2 weeks. Go figure. 

We Are Not Ourselves is the six-decade spanning story of Eileen Leary (nee Tumulty) who grew up in Queens in the 1950s and 60s with Irish parents and an alcoholic mother. The book almost felt like there were two different halves to it - the story of her childhood and then shifting to the perspective of not just her, but her, her husband Ed, and their son Connell in the second half (some chapters would be told from their perspective instead of hers starting partway through the book). Her husband is a college science professor who certainly could have been slated for much greater things in his life but who feels a duty to stick to the small college he's at and positively impact the students he feels need it the most. And while Eileen rises through the ranks as a nurse and hospital administrator, all she wants in life is to move out of Jackson Heights into a sprawling mansion in the suburbs that will convey her status in life to others (in fact, she feels this way about many things in her life, not just the house...she wants fancier cars, she goes out and buys a mink coat because she hears another woman at the salon talking about it, etc). And while she manages to carve out the life she wants (against the strong protests of her husband), nothing is ever that simple, as Ed develops early-onset dementia. 

The way that Ed's dementia was presented was well done. There were gradual behavioral changes that may not have been obviously related to dementia, but as someone who has had a loved one with Alzheimer's, I knew the symptoms immediately and waited patiently for many more pages for the truth to be revealed to the characters themselves. The second half/last third of the book details Eileen and Connell's struggles with managing Ed's declining health and increasingly aberrant and difficult behavior. And while I've read at least one other novel about Alzheimer's since my grandfather passed away, it never gets easier to read situations that feel strikingly familiar. And reading this made me think really long and hard about the personal battles that my grandmother faced while caring for him. She shouldered that burden without asking for help and without complaint, but we as a family will never truly know the difficulties she faced every moment for years. And while I could have assumed what she was dealing with, I felt like reading this book pulled back the curtain on what the experience was most likely was for her. 

I enjoyed the book very much and was glad it was the one I chose. It's kind of astonishing that this was Matthew Thomas' debut novel. 

Last weekend, I was in fact reunited with Robinson Crusoe, so back to deserted island living for me. I'm going to have a full week (and then some) back up at the cottage in two weeks, so maybe I can use the same strategy and plan to finish this one by then so I can pick up something new. But damn, have I been enjoying reading this year. I don't know what fire got lit underneath me, but I read four and half books in the nine weeks that I was off from work and it really has me all sucked in. I keep staring longingly at the stack of books to read on my bookshelf just wanting to read them all! Devour all the books!!

"Under Cosmopolitanism, If It Comes, We Shall Receive No Help From The Earth. Trees And Meadows And Mountains Will Only Be A Spectacle, And The Binding Force That They Once Exercised On Character Must Be Entrusted To Love Alone. May Love Be Equal To The Task!"

I bought Howard's End from a used book store here in Detroit (John King Books, which I've discussed previously) and the previous owner actually had the passage marked that makes up the title of today's post. I would have saved the page anyway because those words did strike me as a central theme/conflict of the book, but it was good to see that another reader of the same text however long ago had the same feeling about the words as I did, enough to mark them down.

I was absolutely not expecting to like Howard's End as much as I did, but I could not put it down. I know I've mentioned before that I have a love of books that take place in mansions so maybe that was part of the draw (although, while the title of the book is taken from the estate owned by the Wilcox family, very little of the novel actually takes place there). And I do have a strong fondness for Downton Abbey, which takes place in the same time period, in the same place, with many of the same themes, which also was likely a big draw. But even then, I guess through the process of reading the books on this list, I'm discovering that I seem to like period pieces set in England that tell stories of family histories, with maybe a little bit of romance thrown in there too. Go figure. 

Howard's End tells the story of the two Schlegel sisters, making their way through early 1900s London society. Both of their parents are deceased, but the girls (along with their brother) have still created remarkable lives for themselves filled with art, literature, intellect, and a fondness for reaching out to those less fortunate than themselves, making them somewhat unique amongst other women of their own set. They encounter the Wilcox family while travelling abroad and are invited to visit at Howard's End, which the one sister Helen, takes them up on. 

From there Helen has a thing for their son Paul which does not result in a good situation for either party (or for either family). After Paul disavows any feelings for Helen and ships off to his military posting, the families generally go their separate ways, but seem to constantly cross paths over the next few years. After becoming a widower, the patriarch of the family, Henry, proposes marriage to the other Schlegel sister, Margaret, much to the dismay of his children. Conflicts ensue, as Henry and Margaret have such very different views of and approaches to the world and even more scandal ensnares the families when it comes to money, property, and infidelity. 

The biggest theme that this book seemed to present was the changing tide of England at the turn of the century and reading the book now, over 100 years later, it's interesting to see how things have panned out in regards to things posited in the novel (for example, discussing whether the country would fully shift away from provincial living to cities, if impermanence/rebuilding would continue to occur, the increased use of automobiles, etc). All of the things that Forster seemed to not be a fan of have certainly come to fruition (and then some!), but I always find it fascinating when writers are keenly observant of societal  changes and build their novels around them (see Main Street by Sinclair Lewis as another example that I recently read). Who's to say whether it is good or bad, but either way, progress has moved on and obviously, things are not the same at all (there are even a couple passages arguing against giving women the right to vote, indicating that women should be skilled enough to convince their husbands who they should vote for <<insert eye roll emoji here>>). 

As mentioned, I quite enjoyed the book and I cannot WAIT to watch the movie...maybe sometime this week. I have 3 other EM Forster novels on my lists and I just got a lot more excited to read them if they're anything like Howard's End. 

Shifting gears, up next is Robinson Crusoe by Daniel Defoe. I know this probably seems like a book that I should have read many many moons ago in school (middle school? When do kids actually read this?) but somehow it slipped my curriculum. I'm hoping it will be a quick, adventuresome read! 206 to go!

"Ours Isn't The Kind Of Brotherhood I Would Wish On Other Men, But We Are Blessed With A Single, Simple Gift: In These Rare Moments Of Happiness, We Can Share Joy As Passionately And Single-Mindedly As We Do Hatred"

I sure loved that quote used as the title of this post when I read it. It seems so accurate of families in general - you can have so much drama and fighting but then also share joy and good times together in a way that is specific and unique to your tribe. 

Wells Tower is a tremendously talented writer, there's no doubt about that. Everything Ravaged, Everything Burned is a collection of 9 of his short stories (one of which was the story included in the New Yorker Fiction Podcast, entitled Leopard, that first introduced me to him). His descriptions of even the most straight-forward, simple details are so eloquent and unique; some funny, some heartbreaking, some belonging to the very observant eye who expands on a moment. The stories are very broad in topic (ranging from traveling carnivals, to a young man dealing with his father's dementia, to pillaging of Nordic warriors) which I loved. Oftentimes when I read a collection of short stories by one author, after a while they all seem to have the same feel to them as far as topics being similar and vibe of the writing being the same (see post about Dorothy Parker as an example). And Tower's writing is 100% NOT that. I think if I had even been introduced to all of these stories separately and not told they were the same writer, I wouldn't be certain that they were (a few I would have grouped together but some others, definitely not). So if you're looking for short stories that are exquisitely written and that deliver such subtle messages and themes on life, here ya go. I'm kind of bummed that there doesn't appear to be much else available from him.

But back to the book lists I go. On to Howard's End by E.M. Forster. I've never seen the movie, but I'll add it to the ever-growing list of movies I'd like to watch based on books I've read recently (see The Postman Always Rings Twice, The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie, Sophie's Choice, and on and on). This book was part of the haul during our used book shopping spree mid-pandemic last year. I'm making my way through them and trying to quench the very overwhelming desire to go to a bookstore and buy more books. The struggle is real.   

"The Black Female Is Assaulted In Her Tender Years By All Those Common Forces Of Nature At The Same Time That She Is Caught In The Tripartite Crossfire Of Masculine Prejudice, White Illogical Hate And Black Lack Of Power"

I have a box on the top shelf of my hallway closet that I have just shuffled from one apartment to another every time I have moved. Inside is a taped up green and yellow cardboard box. I haven't bothered to open the box for years, just schlepping it from one location to the next. While I've been between jobs, I created a to do list for myself which includes cleaning out my front closet (ya'll, there is so much random shit in there that needs a permanent home that doesn't involve cascading out of the closet every time I open it...vacuum attachments, rope, dozens of bags, linens, dog food, sleeping bag, etc). 

I finally got to ticking this task off my list and during the process,  I finally opened the mystery box to discover that it contained TONS AND TONS of notes that my friends had written back in high school. And instead of progressing with the closet cleaning, I sat on the floor of my hallway for hours reading through them. And one friend had written a note on the back of her Honor's English syllabus. I was delighted to find that one of the books included in their reading curriculum that year was I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings by Maya Angelou. How strange it is that 24 years later, at the exact time, I was reading the same book.

And honestly, I wish that I had the opportunity to read this book back in high school (I often wonder how different my perceptions and opinions would be had I been exposed to different types of literature earlier in life, but that's a post for another time). Because I feel like it certainly would have opened my eyes to the incredible challenges and horrific racism experienced not just by blacks in the south in the 1930s/40s but everywhere. At all times. 

The novels tells the story of Marguerite (Maya), a young black girl growing up in Stamps, Arkansas, from the age of ~4 of 5 to 17 years old. She and her brother Bailey are sent to Arkansas from California by their parents after their separation to live with their grandmother and uncle. Their grandmother owns the only store in town that provides provisions to blacks. The segregation in Stamps is so complete, that Maya doesn't even really see whitefolks at all. During this time, Maya experiences the full extent of racism, including a night where they have to hide her uncle in the storage bins of the store because a black man had gotten into trouble with a white woman (even though it wasn't the uncle), a moment when the po'whitetrash kids mock her grandmother on the front porch of the store without even the slightest response from her grandma, a situation where Maya goes to work for a white woman who insists on calling her Mary because it's easier to say than Marguerite, and a time when the white dentist in town won't treat her even though her grandma loaned him money during the Depression. (Side note: the part about the white woman calling her by a different name infuriated me, mostly because THIS SHIT STILL HAPPENS ALL THE TIME. I mean, aren't there tons of stories in the news right now of people of all races being required to have their names modified for the convenience of white people? Thandiwe Newton just announced that the spelling of her name was changed early in her career and now she's reclaiming her original spelling. And every Asian American experiencing racism seems to have a story of an "English" name being required. So 90 years later and we haven't changed a damn thing). 

For a short period of time, Maya and Bailey are sent to St Louis to live with their mother. While there, Maya is sexually abused and raped by her stepfather and had a confused, complicated understanding of what happened (there felt like a lot of similarities here to Bastard Out of Carolina as far as the fear of admitting to adults what happened). Their mother eventually sends the kids back to Stamps, not knowing how to deal with Maya's trauma. After years living back in Stamps, their mother moves to Oakland California and the children go to live with her and Maya has an opportunity to spend a summer with her father in Los Angeles. Their time living in California remarkably changes both Maya and Bailey (Maya abandons her father and his uptight fiancé and lives as a runaway in a junkyard for a month, Bailey falls in with a rough crowd and has a white prostitute girlfriend).

It kind of felt like each chapter of this book was a small vignette that contributed to the whole of who these characters were. For example, there was a chapter where, after returning to Stamps, Maya was not speaking at all and one of the more well-to-do black women in town takes her under her wing, gives her books to read, and makes her feel like a valued person again. And there was another chapter where a revival tent comes to town and blacks of all religions attend and identify with the preacher's message that whites wouldn't be accepted into the kingdom of heaven for their awful treatment of blacks. Every bit of these stories became the fabric of who there were and the essence of the challenges faced in regards to being poor, not having access to adequate education or jobs, and the pervasive racism that prevented any ability to improve their circumstances. Once living in San Francisco, only with dogged determination, Maya becomes the first black street car conductor, which honestly felt like the only marginal victory against the constant oppression of racism. 

The book is said to be autobiographical (and I literally just figured out the connection with the name "Maya" as I started typing it here), which makes me believe that Maya Angelou is even more of a national treasure. Given that this book was published in 1970 amidst assassinations and civil rights protests, the courage to share her upbringing and history is so admirable. And I'm glad to know that even in my white, suburban, upper middle class high school, this book is being taught because it needs to be. Understanding the history and experiences of blacks in America is paramount to not repeating the same behaviors and actively preventing it from happening again. Empathizing with the struggles of others will make you see things in a different light and (hopefully) choose to act in a different way. I am grateful for the opportunity to have read this novel. 

Changing topics...back in January, I participated in a writing contest where the writers are assigned a specific genre, activity, and character and you have 8 days to write a 2500 short story. I've done different variations of this contest over the years where the length and assigned topics vary. For this story, I was not a happy camper. It was a romantic comedy and had to include skydiving and a cheerleader. I just didn't like my character development, it felt too formulaic, and I felt like I rushed the ending, making it feel forced and cheesy. I struggled the entire 8 days and wasn't even going to finish the story or submit. But I forced myself to. And I kind of forgot that the results were going to be provided this week - if you rank in top 5 in your group (out of about 30 writers in each group) you move on to the next round where you'll get new assignments. I just about fell off the couch yesterday when I saw the results and I CAME IN FIRST PLACE IN MY GROUP!! Like legit crazy shocked. Which just goes to show you -- DO NOT GIVE UP. The only way you can lose is if you quit. 

But what does this have to do with the books you're reading, you ask? Well I had planned to keep plugging away at my lists, but instead I picked up a book I've had on the shelf for a minute, Everything Ravaged, Everything Burned by Wells Tower. It's a book of short stories, and I figured I could use some inspiration before having to write another story this weekend. I first heard a story by Wells Tower in The New Yorker Fiction Podcast and just loved everything about the story - his style of writing, the unique detailed descriptions of small minutiae. I did just read a short story collection last year with Dorothy Parker and wasn't planning on picking another one up for a while, but here we are. I have a feeling I'm going to fly right through this one.

So on I progress, 3 1/2 weeks into my 9 week sojourn from employment. I'd like to say I'm being productive. And if sitting in a comfy spot, drinking coffee, and reading is productive, then yes. Yes I am being very productive. 

207 to go.        

The Rose Is Fairest When 'T Is Budding New, And Hope Is Brightest When It Dawns from Fears; The Rose Is Sweetest Washed With Morning Dew, And Love Is Loveliest When Embalmed In Tears.

So as I mentioned in the previous post, I fully anticipated The Lady of the Lake to be a slog to get through because narrative poems (or poetry of any kind really), is 100% not my jam. However, I enjoyed reading The Lady of the Lake far more than I ever would have expected. I would have to whisper it out loud to myself while reading to ensure that I was capturing the rhyme schemes, which I probably wouldn't have gotten if I was just reading it silently to myself. And I think that may have contributed to my additional enjoyment. 

The story is made up of 6 cantos and is about opposing Scottish clansmen preparing for a battle. Intertwined with this is the young maiden, Ellen, betrothed to/in love with Malcom, but being proposed to by James Fitz-James (one of the valiant fighters). But Ellen's father has been exiled and is an enemy of Fitz-James and she cannot accept his proposal. There are 2 different bards who accompany Ellen and the opposing clan warrior, Roderick Dhu, who spontaneously break into storytelling songs along the way. 

This book made me feel like I was reading some ancient bit of Scottish folklore (even though it was published in 1810). It's hard to explain, but it felt like this was something that every Scottish school child would have read as part of their normal education of their own history, and I felt kind of special having this unique insight (I have zero reason to believe that any of this is true, but that's just how I felt). I did have to read an overview online of each of the cantos before diving in because the language was so florid and in some ways, antiquated. But it helped significantly with general comprehension while reading. I was fully transported to the Scottish highlands, as many of the descriptions of the terrain were quite lovely and detailed. And there was a fun little twist at the end that I did not see coming. So while I was very much dreading reading this, I was surprised by it in the end. I wonder if there's some kind of saying about that....

Next up is I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings by Maya Angelou. I had actually started reading this before I finished The Lady of the Lake, which I never do (I do not like reading 2 different books at once; it's important to me to fully focus on the one that I have in my hand). However, I tried to read each of the cantos in one sitting which would take me close to an hour, and we had gone to stay with friends of ours for a weekend where I knew I wouldn't have that large of a block of time to whisper a Scottish lyrical ballad to myself. So instead I brought my next book and started just a bit. 

I am officially without a job; I have, however, accepted an offer and start mid-May. So I have 7 of my 9 work-free weeks remaining. I have a list of to-dos while I'm unemployed (super exciting things like stuff around the house, taxes, getting my windshield fixed), but it's very likely that most of my mornings will be whittled away by laying in bed reading books. Sounds kind of amazing right??

208 to go.  

"He Felt That It Would Take All Time, More Than He Could Ever Spare, To Glue These Strange Cumbersome Pictures Into The Scrap-book Of His Life. It Was All Like A Banquet Where He Sat For This Half-hour Of His Youth And Tried To Enjoy Brilliant Epicurean Courses."

 I don't really have any explanation for why it took me so long to read This Side of Paradise. It wasn't necessarily that long, but it was just the kind of book that I found myself reading in stops and spurts. When I would get into the story, I would motor through 50-100 pages, and then not pick it up again for 3 weeks. I dunno. I guess it just didn't grab me enough to make it a page-turner that I couldn't put down. 

This Side of Paradise, the title taken from a line in the poem Tiare Tahiti by Rupert Brooke, is about Amory Blaine, a young man born and raised in Wisconsin and Minnesota in the early 1900s to a slightly eccentric mother. Amory attends a private school out east and eventually Princeton for college. Amory is incredibly good-looking and very witty and charming; he is very aware of this and the novel acknowledges him to be an egoist. I think even Amory uses this word to describe himself. But Amory is continually conflicted. He's very intellectual but doesn't want to just fall into the trappings that every educated man falls into. He is close friends with Monsignor Darcy who knew his mother, and is conflicted about religion in his many talks with him. In spite of his passion for knowledge, he struggles at school. He doesn't seem to want to conform, but he also isn't a rule-breaker either. The central crux of the novel is Amory attempting to truly discover who he is. 

The book has an interlude in the middle, during which Amory goes off to fight in World War I. His experiences there are not described in the book, and the second half of the novel picks up when he returns. It certainly seems that Amory has been affected by the war, as his behavior is a little more reckless, but this isn't explicitly stated. He falls passionately in love with Rosalind, his roommate's sister, but she breaks it off with him, stating that she needs a wealthy man (most of Amory's inheritance is now gone) and knowing that they will only destroy each other and their love in the long run. This wrecks Amory and he swings into a self-destructive phase, going on a bender and quitting his job. Once he sobers up (forced upon him by prohibition), Amory wanders a little aimlessly, staying with various relatives. During this time, he meets Eleanor, a woman very much his intellectual equal. They certainly seem to be very well-matched for each other (even though Eleanor might have a little bit of a mental health issue), but Amory still abandons her and abandons all hope for love. The novel ends with Amory continuing to try find himself since he seems to have nothing of value left. 

I think the main reason that I wasn't swept away by this book was because I didn't have a lot of sympathy for the character of Amory. He always felt himself to be superior - to his classmates, to all of the women he had trysts with, to his mother. The only person that may have avoided this fate was Monsignor Darcy, but Amory even looked down on him for his abiding to organized religion. So his whole personal quest of discovery seemed so self-absorbed and narcissistic, it just annoyed the hell out of me. He had this bitter view of the world, but all of the negative impacts in his life were of his own doing, yet he never seems to take responsibility for his own actions and decisions. 

While Fitzgerald's writing is quite lovely, I just didn't grasp on to the subject matter that much. I had read somewhere that people felt this novel was a little autobiographical about Fitzgerald, and I could see that. But curious if Amory Blaine was a portrait of himself or if he wrote the character as a more cynical version of himself. 

Anywho, onward and forward. Next up, I'm taking a big departure for myself and starting The Lady of the Lake by Sir Walter Scott. Narrative poems are DEFINITELY  not my jam, so I fully anticipate being on the struggle bus with this one. But I'll have to just soldier through. 209 to go. 

On a completely unrelated side note, I discovered at the beginning of the year that I'll be let go from my job (I either move to NJ or get "severed"). I'm secretly delighting in having nothing but free time to read unabashedly before I actively start looking for another job. So brace yourself for a flurry of posts come mid-March!