Usually, I’m not a Margaret Atwood fan. She makes it so difficult, through depressing stories and odd characterizations, to appreciate her wit, imagery and intellect. Reluctantly, I read The Year of the Flood. It was the choice for my book group, and the All Pikes Peak Reads 2012 selection. As part of the APPR festivities, Atwood spoke about sustainability and survival: two prevalent themes in her works.
Surprisingly, once I started reading I was anxious to continue. Although Atwood dismisses claims The Year of the Flood is a post-apocalyptic tale, nothing better describes it. The story takes place in a time when mutations, genetic engineering and an order of fear prevail. The flood refers to an unknown deluge caused by man’s errors and destructive predispositions. It is not a natural phenomenon; it’s a “waterless flood.”
God’s Gardeners is a small cult with a foundation in Christianity that celebrates the lives of such people as Rachel Carson and Euell Gibbons, among others, for the contributions they made to saving the environment. The Gardeners strive to protect nature and prepare for (and later survive) the flood. Within the cult, Toby and Ren, represent maturity and youth, respectively. Their narratives move the story forward. Atwood said she purposely incorporates multiple voices in her works because “I don’t like everyone to sound the same.” Toby is represented in third person, while Ren offers a first person perspective. The sermons of Adam One, the Gardeners’ leader, begin each chapter using second person voice.
I’m glad I read this and even more pleased to have heard Atwood speak. It provided insight into her work, but mostly served to demonstrate her keen sense of humor, which fortunately surfaces in this novel. A novel, by the way, which has, as Atwood stated, “A ray of hope.”
The Year of the Flood
Four Bookmarks
Anchor Books, 2009
431 pages
Me, Who Dove into the Heart of the World is the cumbersome and complex title of Sabina Berman’s debut novel. Yet, it turns out to be just about perfect. The me refers to the first word narrator Karen Nieto learns. She is 10 years old when her mother dies and her aunt moves into the family home in Mazatlan. It’s her aunt who teaches her to speak, loves her and later defers to her in business matters. Her aunt also identifies Karen as an autistic savant.
The family operates a tuna fishery, which has a profound impact on Karen’s education and sensitivities. If this is beginning to sound vaguely similar to Temple Grandlin’s story, it should. It’s about overcoming perceptions and obstacles. It’s about the ability to be so focused, to the exclusion of everything else including social norms, that success can’t help but surface. Karen evolves from a gangly girl with matted hair to a gangly woman with a buzzcut; along the way she develops a humane fishery.
The story spans 32 years including Karen’s schooling, business developments and interactions with others. After being tested, and self-identifying as “Different Abilities,” Karen learns “… in 90% of standard measures of intelligence (she is) somewhere between imbecile and idiot, but in 10% (she is) on top of the world.”
The most poignant moments are those between Karen and her aunt. Although Karen goes on to do great things, the most moving and inspirational are the leaps she makes in this relationship.
Me, Who Dove into the Heart of the World
Four Bookmarks
Henry Holt and Co., 2012
242 pages
We discovered The Range Café in Bernalillo years ago when we used travel to New Mexico for soccer tournaments. Bernalillo is home to the original Range, but there are two other locations down the highway in Albuquerque. We try to time our travel so we can stop for a meal: usually breakfast or lunch. Recently, we arrived for a late lunch on a weekend afternoon. The restaurant is cavernous, albeit festive; nonetheless, we were in for a 10 to 15 minute wait unless we sat at the bar, which we did.
Colorful, original art and Western décor adorn the walls, as do numerous references to ranges. Not a range as in open prairie, but as in stove. This makes sense, because there is plenty of good cooking going on.
The emphasis is on comfort food: meat loaf, mac and cheese, sandwiches, salads and a standard selection of Mexican dishes. I knew we still had more than five hours left in our drive home, so I didn’t want to overeat. I ordered the Veggie Sandwich with slabs of mozzarella, tomatoes, grilled zucchini, thinly fried onions all pressed between a sliced baguette lathered with pesto aioli! This was a garden on bread. The only disappointment was the tomato which lacked that fresh taste of summer. Although other sides are available, I swear when I ordered I only saw sweet potato fries listed, nothing else was on the page.
I ate only half my lunch and still slept afterward – fortunately, my husband was driving.
The Range Café
Four Plates
925 Camino Del Pueblo
Bernalillo, N.M.
Finding good Mexican food in Arizona is a no-brainer, but thinking to look in a Flagstaff strip mall took some thought. Thanks to our son who attends NAU, we found Tacos Los Altos. It’s been serving an “Authentic Taste of Mexican Homemade Food” since 1999. The mall location has been open four years, and expanded to more than double its space this summer. Only the increase in square footage has changed; the food remains fresh and flavorful.
This is a place-your-order-at-the-counter establishment. The food is brought to the table, but standing at the counter reading the extensive menu can be a bit daunting. That’s why I just went with the daily special listed on the wipe board: Carne Asada, tortillas, rice, beans and soda for $6.99. My husband and son scrutinized the menu a little longer and decided on the beef burrito and ham torta, respectively.
From the outside, Tacos Los Altos is nondescript. The interior, however, is bright, colorful and friendly. A serve-yourself salsa bar features almost too many choices. Pico de Gallo and the green salsa were rich and piquant – they were just right.
Shortly after placing my order, the carne asada was removed from the wipe board. Mine was apparently among the last available. The meat was a little dry but the flavor remained. The rice and beans were winners; the true champion was my husband’s beef burrito filled with chile con carne that makes my mouth water just thinking about it. We eventually traded plates.
Tacos Los Altos
Three-and-a-half Plates
2500 S. Woodlands Village Blvd. S
Flagstaff, AZ
I don’t know what it is that makes me crave Scandinavian crime fiction, but I’m addicted. Sweden’s Hakan Nesser’s Mind’s Eye fed my habit, but I know I’ll need more soon. Nesser is a master storyteller whose pacing is neither rushed nor sluggish. The crime scenes aren’t too gruesome and the clues are well hidden. He even manages to throw humor into the mix.
The story begins with Janek Mitter awakening from a drunken stupor only to find his wife drowned in the bathtub. Mitter’s too easy a suspect, but is, nonetheless, tried and convicted before things take a turn and get exciting: Mitter, too, becomes a victim. That’s where Chief Inspector Van Veeteren, a middle-aged investigator with an attitude, comes in. His success rate at solving crimes is impressive. He had early doubts about Mitter’s guilt, but not soon enough.
I had a fairly good idea about who the actual killer was, but was not prepared for why. Van Veeteren knows who but won’t name names because, as he tells a subordinate, “… there has to be a story,” in other words a reason. Nesser’s characters develop slowly, and in an interesting manner. Many chapters begin with stream of consciousness narration and it is unclear who’s doing the thinking. This only enhances the element of suspense. Eventually, it gives way to very clear identities and perspectives.
This is the first of Nesser’s Van Veeteren mysteries. I can’t wait for my next fix, I mean the next installment. Fortunately, Nesser has several.
Mind’s Eye
Four Bookmarks
Pantheon Books, 2008
278 pages
A simple, colorful sign on the white clapboard siding indicates Shuga’s is not a residential house. Nonetheless, it’s home to good food and comfort. Celebrating a friend’s birthday, we enjoyed a long, better-than-average lunch outside (a few tables are at the entrance, and a larger patio is in back).
The Brazilian Coconut Shrimp Soup is Shuga’s signature dish. It’s available by the bowl or cup. I wish it were sold by the potful. We each ordered soup with two bruschetta. We both had the fresh tomato and mozzarella, but took different directions with the second. She had the tomato, bacon and goat cheese, and I had smoked salmon.
The range of flavors was like sibling rivalry, each vying to top the other. Parents aren’t supposed to play favorites, but as a diner it was easy to choose: the soup. Plump shrimp, a hit of jalapeno spiciness offset by the rich, smooth coconut milk and the suggestion of peanuts completed the bisque. As my friend said, “It’s a series of flavors.”
Thick slices of hard-crusted bread were the base of the bruschetta. One was slathered with aioli then topped with a generous serving of smoked salmon, capers and red onions. The other was a version of Caprese with olive oil, substantial slices of salty cheese and taste-of-summer tomatoes topped with fresh basil. The soup may have overshadowed, but these sides were not family embarrassments.
It’s been years since I was last at Shuga’s. I won’t make the mistake of waiting so long to return.
Shuga’s
Four-and-a-half Plates
702 S. Cascade Ave.
Colorado Springs, CO.
Even if you aren’t necessarily a fan of Patti Smith or Robert Mapplethorpe, Smith’s memoir, Just Kids, is more than an autobiographical look at the relationship between the two artists. It also examines life and culture in the late 1960s and 1970s.
I’m just young enough that Smith was never on my radar when I was growing up. And, I’m just old enough to be aware of the controversy caused by a retrospective of Mapplethorpe’s work with the National Endowment for the Arts – long after his death. I might have skipped this book if not for a friend’s recommendation. I read it, and I’m glad.
Smith and Mapplethorpe met and lived together in New York City when they were kids (twenty-year-olds) at a time when the underground music and art scenes were beginning to materialize. Their timing was perfect: she became part of the former and he part of the latter. Their paths crossed with the likes of Jimi Hendrix, Janis Joplin, Todd Rundgren, Sam Shepard, Andy Warhol and many others.
Just Kids reflects the impressive strength of friendship Smith and Mapplethorpe created with one another. This is a love story, even though each went on to have different partners; it’s also Smith’s homage to her late friend and the era in which they emerged. Her voice is honest and unrestrained. It’s easy to imagine the romance of their early lives as they lived hand-to-mouth, meeting other up-and-coming artists all while discovering their own artistic personas.
Just Kids
Three-and-a-half Bookmarks
HarperCollins, 2010
283 pages
A brewery should be known for its beer. On that point the Breckenridge Brewery doesn’t disappoint. Even the pub fare is above average. The shortfall is the service. A cold, rainy late summer afternoon found people looking for places to stay warm and dry, so perhaps the lunch crowd was larger than usual. I suspect it wasn’t. Our server started off by asking if we wanted shots. Duh. Beer was the drink of choice. He took our order and that was the last we saw of him until he dropped off the check long after we had finished eating.
I was intrigued by the Green Chile with Andouille Sausage, but I wanted more information. The server’s response was “If you like green chile you’ll probably like this.” Despite his uninspired response, I ordered it. Typically, pork is the meat that has been stewed with tomatoes, green chile and onions. The sausage worked surprisingly well. There was the right amount of kick to help raise my body temperature, but only enough to enjoy the flavors without a chaser. My son ordered a Bacon Cheeseburger topped with crispy onion rings. This two-fisted burger packed a messy punch of juicy flavor.
Although we weren’t in a hurry to go back out in the rain, we waited (and waited) for the check. When the server finally dropped it off, he only had one thing to say: “Do you want any shots?” It wasn’t a question I expected before or after a meal in a brewery.
Breckenridge Brewery
Three-Plates
600 S. Main St.
Breckenridge, CO
Mark Haddon’s The Red House is a metaphor for the definition of family; the meaning can be obscured by comfort or serve as boundaries through which no one should cross. Haddon emphasizes the latter. Estranged brother and sister, Richard and Angela, meet for a family vacation shortly after their mother’s death. Richard’s a doctor and newly married to his second wife. Her 16-year-old daughter is part of the package. Angela and her husband have three children, but she mourns the still-born daughter she lost 18 years ago. These eight family members spend a week together in the English countryside as they tentatively reveal themselves to each other – some with better results than others.
Haddon’s approach is interesting. Each chapter represents one day of the vacation, and everyone’s perspective is provided to set the scene. Initially, it’s difficult, even confusing, keeping track of who’s who. However, as the storyline evolves, more about Angela’s grief is explained, not just from her viewpoint but her husband’s, too. Also, Richard is not as professionally secure as he projects, this from his wife.
Haddon blends the familiar (sulky teenagers) with the uncomfortable (sulky parents). Slowly, observations and experiences round out each character. Jumping from one person to another becomes less awkward. Mostly, the time together leads to everyone’s better understanding of him or herself. Haddon writes, “Behind everything there is a house … compared to which every other house is larger or colder or more luxurious.” Sounds a lot like the way all families are perceived.
The Red House
Three-and-a-half Bookmarks
Doubleday, 2012
264 pages
I’ve long given up trying to get into the Butterhorn Bakery & Café (in Frisco, CO) for breakfast/brunch on the weekend. Yet, this popular eatery attracts locals and tourists in equal numbers for lunch during the week, too. The draw: this is a real bakery and the menu features baked goods. Recently, friends arrived early to get on the list for a table, so it didn’t really seem like much of a wait – for me.
I ordered the Vegie Hummer. For some reason I neglected to register the menu fact it was black bean hummus, rather than traditional chickpea. This was a surprise, not a problem. The dark, thick mash had a depth of flavor, which was nearly lost under the jungle of sprouts and shredded carrots. This, with slices of red onion, tomato and lettuce on a Jalapeno-Cheddar Baguette, made for a pretty bulky, filling sandwich. The cheese was an edible lacquer on the freshly-baked bread. The combination of all the elements was an excellent vegie hoagie.
Other items selected in our group were the Thai Chicken Wrap which inspired no order envy, and the Spicy Chicken Guacamole on a croissant which did. The latter, however, was messy to eat, but melted pepper jack with grilled chicken made it worth the need for extra napkins.
All sandwiches come with a choice of potato salad, pasta salad or chips. Be forewarned, the pasta salad is actually macaroni salad – that old-fashioned kind with a mayonnaise base. It was out of character with the otherwise trendy menu.
Butterhorn Bakery & Café
Not-quite-Four Plates
Breakfast and lunch only
408 Main St.
Frisco, Colorado
The Blue Page Special 