Archive for the ‘Books’ Category
The Unlikely Pilgrimage of Harold Fry begins as a slow, methodical, unexpected journey – for the main character and the reader. Rachel Joyce’s novel practically crawls through the first few chapters. Then, like Harold, it picks up the pace only to falter on occasion like most adventures.
This poignant tale shares qualities of a love story and mystery, but is more the former than latter. And, it’s about different types of love: romantic, familial and companionable.
After receiving a letter from Queenie, a work colleague with whom he’s lost touch, Harold sets out to mail a response. Despite the fact that he left the house without his cell phone and is dressed somewhat formally, he decides to embark on a 600+ mile trek from one end of England to the other to talk to Queenie in person. He has no backpack, water bottle, map or other equipment. In fact, he walks in boating shoes.
The elements of a mystery come in the form of questioning the relationship between Harold and Queenie, as well as between Harold and his estranged son, David. There’s also the fact that Harold is married, although he and his wife, Maureen, do little more than share a past and the same house.
The characters’ imperfections are what make the story work, albeit inconsistently. As personalities evolve, foibles become more defined, but so do strengths. Harold loses his way in more than one manner, but he, like the reader, gains perspective even if it is not particularly satisfying.
The Unlikely Pilgrimage of Harold Fry
Three Bookmarks
Random House, 2012
320 pages
Eleven-year-old Luz Maria Costilla has a gut-wrenching way of storytelling. She’s a lot like Scout, daughter of Atticus Finch. Unfortunately, Luz’s father is nothing like Harper Lee’s heroic character. Nonetheless, in Mario Alberto Zambrano’s debut novel, Loteria, Luz is full of grit and independence.
Loteria is a game of chance, popular in Mexico, designed around cards each of which features an image rather than a number. The images, through riddles, are called out by the game’s dealer. The novel of the same name is built around the cards as Luz recounts the disintegration of her family and how she became a ward of the state of California. It’s rich with humor, sorrow and vivid imagery thanks to the game. The irony is that Luz isn’t talking; she has a journal and the cards to speak for her. Some knowledge of Spanish is helpful.
Luz loves her father. She sees past his many faults: he’s violent, he drinks, and has questionable parenting skills. In his own way, he loves his wife, his elder daughter Estrella and Luz. A few other relatives come in and out of the narrative, but the focus is on this nuclear family. For the El Borracho card, Luz recounts, “When Papi sang in the backyard I’d dance to whatever song he sang. He’d be a little drunk under the light of the porch, and for every four sips he took, I took one.” Not every card is as obvious in its intent, but as Luz puts them together they come to life.
Loteria
Four Bookmarks
HarperCollins, 2013
270 pages
I hadn’t heard of Jim Gaffigan before his appearance on “Late Night With Jimmy Fallon” this past spring. Then I saw his name as an author on the library’s list of most requested books. I thought he was funny and decided to get in line for Dad is Fat. It was actually a long line. Although I enjoyed the book, I have to wonder if the library only ordered one copy.
Gaffigan writes about his life as the father of five young children. He, his wife and their brood live in a two-bedroom apartment in New York City. It’s a small space full of chaos, fun and lots of love. No aspect of parenting is off limits. He addresses everything from attending church to going to the park, from getting babysitters to sleeping — at least trying to. He writes, “I love the fact that if my children wake up scared or are feeling lonely, they can come in our bed. I just wish each and every one of them didn’t do it every single night.”
His humor blends sarcasm with self-deprecation. He considers his wife a saint, albeit a fertile one. Gaffigan is in the right career as a comedian, and his voice adjusts well to the page.
The book provides several laugh-out-loud moments, but after a while they start to wear thin. For people of a certain age, his family may sound reminiscent of sit-coms from the 1960s. Perhaps someday it will be the basis of one on a cable channel.
Dad is Fat
Three Bookmarks
Crown Archetype, 2013
274 pages
Titles, like first lines, can make or break a novel’s appeal. Certainly, if Meg Wolitzer had called her most recent book The Borings, instead of The Interestings, it might not have garnered much attention (which it has). Yet, there’s something pretentious about it, which is just the tone – along with some irony – the author instills in this contemporary epic about friendship, love, human potential and disappointment.
Wolitzer’s account moves back and forth through time, but it all pivots around the beginning which occurs at a camp for the arts in the summer of 1974. “The Interestings” is the name six teenagers give themselves; it’s meant to separate them from everyone else in camp. They’re talented, to varying degrees, mostly privileged and self-absorbed. Even as they move through adulthood, they carry those same qualities. Yes, they mature and Wolitzer is at her best illustrating their personal struggles and triumphs, but they can’t quite shake idea of their old moniker.
The power of friendship, particularly among four of the six, is an underlying theme and it, more than anything else, drives the novel. The characters’ ability to fit in and accept themselves also delivers some impact.
The exhaustive story spans more than five decades in a way that’s reminiscent of Forest Gump. Instead of a sound track to identify the passage of time, Wolitzer relies largely on political events. Although the characters are interesting, it’s not as much as they think – or as much as we want them to be.
The Interestings
Four Bookmarks
Riverhead Books, 2013
468 pages
Denise Kiernan’s The Girls of Atomic City: The Untold Story of the Women Who Helped Win World War II made me wonder if it would appeal to anyone unfamiliar with Oak Ridge, Tenn. I lived in Oak Ridge for five years after college. It was a beautiful, fascinating place thanks to its population of highly educated people from all over the world and its impressive, albeit once-clandestine, past. Kiernan writes about how, and why, the town came into existence by focusing on the role of the thousands of women (and men) who did their part to help end WWII. Most had no idea what they were doing or why.
In 1943, people from major metropolitan areas and rural communities were recruited to relocate to a town which didn’t even exist on a map. Kiernan conducted interviews with many of the women, now in their 80s and 90s, to recreate the conditions they endured knowing only that their work contributed to the war effort. Friendships formed, romances ensued and construction progressed at a rapid rate. All the while no one could talk about their jobs. Yet, this was an integral part of American history.
Uranium, referred to as Tubealloy, was, in fact, being enriched for its ultimate use in the atomic bomb. Oak Ridgers learned about the secret the same time as the rest of the world when Hiroshima was bombed.
The advantage to knowing Oak Ridge is that it’s easy to envision Kiernan’s descriptions, but the book’s fascination is far-reaching.
The Girls of Atomic City: The Untold Story of the Women Who Helped Win World War II
Four Bookmarks
Simon & Schuster, 2013
371 pages with notes and index
Aimee Bender’s second novel, The Particular Sadness of Lemon Cake, is quirky but glum. The premise follows Rose, the young narrator, and her ability to discern people’s emotions through the food they prepare. This is in stark contrast to the concept that cooking and eating meals are meant to be enjoyed and shared. Poor Rose must develop a strategy to avoid knowing more than she cares or wants, but, of course, she also has to eat.
It doesn’t help that Rose’s family is on the eccentric side to begin with. Lane, her mother, is flighty. And, as Rose deduces from her mother’s cooking, Lane is also very unhappy. Rose’s father is distant and professional. Her brother, Joe, is a genius void of social skills, with an enigma of his own. Despite the food affliction, Rose is pretty much the clan’s anchor with Joe’s friend, George.
Bender deftly portrays the efforts young Rose endures to, at first, keep her disorder a secret and, eventually, live with it. Rose is wise and perceptive; she is smart enough not to reveal too much. Although there are a few light moments, it’s more than a slice of cake that’s particularly sad. Rose and most everyone around her are all woefully unhappy.
The story’s saving grace is Bender’s writing which blends melancholy with the bizarre, while throwing sensitivity and a bit of wry humor into the mix. She’s also excellent at describing a Los Angeles neighborhood that doesn’t rely on tired landmarks.
The Particular Sadness of Lemon Cake
Three-and-and-half Bookmarks
Doubleday, 2010
292 pages
Writers who pay to have their books published often go through the wringer when it comes to perceptions. Such efforts were once identified as vanity-pressed or self-published. Now the preferred term is indie, or independent, publishing. Some indies are poorly constructed, rife with grammatical errors and simply uninteresting; yet many are well-written including Summoning the Strength by Stephanie Briggs. She manages to avoid those most frequent missteps. In fact, she’s really only guilty of not calling on her own strengths, which are plentiful, when it comes to writing.
At 169 pages, Briggs’s novel is all-too brief to accommodate the numerous characters. The account follows Katherine, a small-town girl who endures a disastrous marriage to a wealthy man. She’s interesting and has an especially strong relationship with her mother, which unfortunately, just withers.
Katherine’s unhappiness is tangible because Briggs tells the story in retrospect. However, the explanation for the discontent is one-dimensional. The husband’s a jerk and Katherine’s an intelligent woman too blind to see the obvious.
One problem is the large number of long-lasting friendships Katherine has from her childhood and college days. It’s clear the author appreciates the importance of women’s friendships. However, here’s an instance when having more isn’t necessarily a good thing.
Briggs’s prose is engaging and descriptive, but she could have easily created fuller (and fewer) characters for a richer story. I’ve come to enjoy Briggs’s writing through her blog, Honie Briggs. It’s smart, humorous and meaningful. I suspect her next book will be, too.
Summoning the Strength
Three bookmarks
Briggs& Briggs, 2011
169 pages
I learned about The Healer from a link sent by a friend featuring book doppelgangers. Antti Tuomainen’s novel was identified as the literary twin to The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo. That’s all I needed to know – or so I thought. Unfortunately, it’s more a fraternal connection than identical.
Yes, it’s set in Scandinavia but from there the similarities are tenuous at best. The Healer is compact but can’t quite settle on a specific genre. It’s crime fiction, without the thrill of trying to determine whodunit before it’s spelled out. It’s an apocalyptic tale, without an explanation of what actually took place – except for references to global warming. It’s a love story, told only from Tapani the narrator’s perspective, which is unreliable.
Tapani recounts his frantic search for his missing wife, Johanna, a journalist working on a story about a series of murders. The couple has never gone more than a few hours without communicating with one another. Her editor is disinterested, the police are over-worked, and friends are not forthcoming. Tapani is on his own left to retrace his wife’s steps. Along the way he is befriended by a helpful yet mysterious cab driver. And, Tapani uncovers a few secrets from Johanna’s past, which make him question how well he truly knows her.
Tuomaninen’s description of Helsinki is stark; it’s a city of constant rain, poverty and crowds. None of which, like Tapani’s search for Johanna, is very engaging. Nonetheless, I found myself thinking about the ending long after finishing this terse novel.
The Healer
Three Bookmarks
Henry Holt and Co., 2010
211 pages
Barbara Kingsolver and Joni Mitchell have a lot in common – at least to me. I’m especially drawn to their early works. They’re prolific and both know the beauty of language. Even though they’re favorites of mine, it doesn’t mean I don’t see their foibles.
Admittedly, it’s been a while since I’ve listened to anything by Mitchell, but I did just finish Kingsolver’s Flight Behavior. I pretty much read anything and everything she writes. Unfortunately, it didn’t wow me. It has plenty of descriptive images and the characters are interesting, but the story itself is just too predictable.
Climate change is the driving issue with the theme of understanding the world around us. Dellarobia is a young mother of two in a lackluster marriage. Just as she is about to embark on an affair, she discovers monarch butterflies have blanketed the woods on the family land in rural Tennessee. This introduces her to scientists, the media, family secrets, and herself.
Dellarobia’s an appealing character. She’s a good mother, but isn’t thrilled by being a wife thanks to her easy-going husband, Cub, and his willful, demanding parents. To counter the country folk, Kingsolver brings in the intellectual Ovid Byron, a researcher.
The gist of the story can be found in the first and last chapters. The downside to only turning those pages is that you’d miss the imagery, sarcasm ascribed to some of the characters, and the magic Kingsolver has with words. Then again, you’d get to skip the preachy tone and predictability. It might be time to listen to Joni Mitchell again.
Flight Behavior
Three-and-a-half Bookmarks
HarperCollins 2012
433 pages
Anyone worth his or her salt in the kitchen has drawers and cabinets full of wonderfully useful and incredibly useless gadgets. Bee Wilson’s Consider the Fork: A History of How We Cook and Eat provides historical and cultural perspectives on how most of them came into our lives. The book is divided into eight sections, each addressing a specific element of cooking under such headings as “Knife,” “Fire,” “Eat,” among others. Yes, the fork gets plenty of attention, but so do other implements that impact not just how food is prepared, but what’s eaten.
Wilson examines the technology behind cooking tools, using the purest definition of the word: “Techne means an art, skill or craft, and logia means the study of something.” Occasionally, she gets bogged down by too much detail, such as the various types of fuels, or the dangers inherent in knives. But who knew about the egg beater boom in the late 1800s? How about that “Kitchen Debate” between the U.S. and Russia at the time of the Cold War?
Nonetheless, reflecting on why we use certain implements versus others, or why some are no longer to be found, is pretty interesting stuff. Wilson has done her homework. If nothing else, I gained insight into the evolution of pots and pans, and now know that the fork was initially not well-received. It took the Italians and pasta to demonstrate its usefulness.
Besides, having read the book I discovered a few new Scrabble words: quern, trifid and ulu.
Consider the Fork: A History of How We Cook and Eat
Three-and-a-half Bookmarks
Basic Books, 2012
310 pages, including notes and bibliography
The Blue Page Special 