I kept getting the strange sense of unchecked privilege while reading Matthew Thomas' We Are Not Ourselves. I wondered, is this intentional? I'll never know for sure, but I do know that the good review given to Thomas' novel in the NY Times continues another tradition of unchecked privilege - undue accolades for white male writers.
Eileen Tumulty is the daughter of Irish American immigrants. Her father tells her, after she confesses frustration over her fiancee's refusal to wear her expensive and engraved wedding gift of a gold watch to him, that he can't appreciate fine things because he is from a multiple-generation American family that doesn't own a house. This solidifies in Eileen the core value that nice things, property most of all, are meaningful and essential.
Later in the story, she grows to loathe her neighborhood - the diversifying Queens, NYC of the 1970s - for the increasing number of non-Western European immigrants. Later still, she glibly recalls being harder on an African-American nursing student because things would be tougher for her in their shared profession, anyway.
Eileen is not entirely unlikable - but her unchecked racism and classism erected a barrier between us (me, the reader, and her, the protagonist) that I couldn't quite get cross. I also could not muster much sympathy for her son, the horrifically irresponsible and unreliable son who avoids dealing with his father's long-suffering illness and death.
Further, the overarching storyline - husband's ironic, early onset Alzheimer's unravels everything this first/second-generation family has built in America - was overly familiar, as Lisa Genovese's Still Alice did it (college professor with Alzheimer's) first, and too recently.
Still, this book was so long, that by the time I realized I was only halfway through, I was committed to finishing it. Mare Winningham's incomparably beautiful narration is the current that kept me afloat.
3 out of 10. CAKB.
Tuesday, January 5, 2016
How to Build a Girl - Caitlin Moran gives me all the feels
I read this book fast. I laughed hard. I reeled with the same insatiability and hunger for more, more, more that Johanna Morrigan reels with in Caitlin Moran's How to Build a Girl.
Johanna is 14, and itchy with the sense that there is something big around the corner, something big in the world for her to discover, some desperate knowledge of truth and rule and connection that she isn't quite grasping yet. And so she embarks upon the journey to find it (also known as adolescence).
The arc of this story is more like a continuous sine wave: Dolly Wilde rises to fame, falls in love, kisses everyone she wants to, has home troubles and boy troubles, and reclaims her core. I loved this book. The narrator of the audiobook, Louise Brealey, has a light and sharp British accent to match Johanna's light and sharp mind.
8 out of 10 stars - CAKB.
The arc of this story is more like a continuous sine wave: Dolly Wilde rises to fame, falls in love, kisses everyone she wants to, has home troubles and boy troubles, and reclaims her core. I loved this book. The narrator of the audiobook, Louise Brealey, has a light and sharp British accent to match Johanna's light and sharp mind.
8 out of 10 stars - CAKB.
Monday, January 16, 2012
Jersey Shore: The Great Sociological Experiment of Our Time
Okay, so I stole that title from my fave snarky website, Gawker. Regardless, the time has come break my silence and out myself as a fan of Jersey Shore.
Why the admission of guilt? Vinny, a principal cast member, has been suffering from an especially difficult and chronic episode of anxiety. Further, he is being honest about it. He shares this particularly difficult aspect of himself with his roommates, and they, in turn, do everything they can to support, accommodate, and love him.
Anxiety is a serious and life-changing disorder. As Vinny says during interview, it is something he's suffered from since he was 16. More often than not he has short bouts of anixety attacks and is able to roll through them. This time, though, his anxiety has persisted for long enough to roll over into a depressed state. As anyone who lives with this condition knows, sometimes that happens. Sometimes you can't ride the funk to the other side. Sometimes, you don't even feel well enough to tell your closest family and friends what you're experiencing.
Watching Vinny disclose and then discuss his disorder with friends was wonderful. Even if some of the harmfully negative stigma is whittled away at by MTV broadcasting this footage, then some good has been done. I was actually moved to tears by the amazingly supportive and loving response by the other castmates, as well. Each roommate listened and loved Vinny.
In the end, Vinny went home. He had to make a difficult choice and he made it. I hope that the millions of young adults who feel disabling anxiety had a little bit of weight lifted off of their shoulders this week. And that they feel better, more confident and empowered, in making the difficult choices that they must make on a daily basis.
Why the admission of guilt? Vinny, a principal cast member, has been suffering from an especially difficult and chronic episode of anxiety. Further, he is being honest about it. He shares this particularly difficult aspect of himself with his roommates, and they, in turn, do everything they can to support, accommodate, and love him.
Anxiety is a serious and life-changing disorder. As Vinny says during interview, it is something he's suffered from since he was 16. More often than not he has short bouts of anixety attacks and is able to roll through them. This time, though, his anxiety has persisted for long enough to roll over into a depressed state. As anyone who lives with this condition knows, sometimes that happens. Sometimes you can't ride the funk to the other side. Sometimes, you don't even feel well enough to tell your closest family and friends what you're experiencing.
Watching Vinny disclose and then discuss his disorder with friends was wonderful. Even if some of the harmfully negative stigma is whittled away at by MTV broadcasting this footage, then some good has been done. I was actually moved to tears by the amazingly supportive and loving response by the other castmates, as well. Each roommate listened and loved Vinny.
In the end, Vinny went home. He had to make a difficult choice and he made it. I hope that the millions of young adults who feel disabling anxiety had a little bit of weight lifted off of their shoulders this week. And that they feel better, more confident and empowered, in making the difficult choices that they must make on a daily basis.
Friday, January 13, 2012
My first Stephen King
11.22.63 was 30 hours long - and I could have listened for 30 more.
We chose Stephen King's time travel/historical novel for book club and gave ourselves two months to read it. I finished it in 6 weeks, taking breaks here and there, but always returning. I even listened while working out at the gym. 11.22.63 is the story of Jake Epping and the obdurate past - harmonies and lives intersecting, changing and then aligning and realigning while on an ill-advised mission. It is a love story, and yet it is not. It is an emotional void and then a flood. It is wonderful.
Stephen King is truly a master story teller; I know everyone says this, but I'm saying it here, again. There were times when I would have fitful nightmares after reading before bed - not because the story had frightened me but because there is a certain creepiness in the way that King writes. Sometimes, doom enveloped this world and its characters, and it was just a feeling, the same way that we just feel 14.7 pounds per square inch of atmosphere around us at all times.
I don't know if I'll read more by the famous writer, but I'd like to. The balance of creepiness and romance held my interest the most, I think (and hey, I am a sucker for 20th century historical fiction), and I'm not sure if any of his previous works have the same dynamic. Readers, let me know your thoughts (or recommendations) in the comments!
Tuesday, December 20, 2011
Currently Reading
11/22/63 by Stephen King
Format: Audiobook
Thoughts: I like it more so far than I thought I would. I'm about a quarter of the way through (it's long!) and things are getting creepy. I relish the idea of the obdurate past barring an easy time of what we think we should be able to control.
A Friend of the Family by Lauren Grodstein
Format: Kindle
Thoughts: This book, a sophomore novel, is good. As always, I appreciate a well-written narrative from a character the opposite gender of the author. The story is tense with suburban woe and the inalienable truth of self-serving human nature. The plot isn't sweeping, or epic, but its themes are real.
Delirium by Lauren Oliver
Format: Kindle and audiobook
(I'm having a hard time getting through this, so I've switched from Kindle to audio)
Thoughts: I loved, really loved, Lauren Oliver's Before I fall so I was happy to shell out full price for the Kindle format special edition e-book. But after the first couple of chapters, I put it down and wasn't able to pick it up again. The tone is a bit depressive, but I can feel the dampened rage bubbling beneath the wet blanketed surface and I look forward to getting on with reading this.
How Could I Forget? To Live is to Love, to Love is to Weep
How could I forget the single most heart-wrenching book of my 2011? This year, I read A Dog's Purpose: A Novel for Humans by W. Bruce Cameron.
My darling Scott started reading this book to me at night in the late summer. Scott employed a perfectly-honed voice for the puppy narrator, all mischief and wonder, unabashed love and learning. I was starting to fall in love with the story until - well, I won't give away what the major plot device of this book is, but let's just say until.
I cried uncontrollably. I pressed my face into my pillow and wept. Scott tried to comfort me, laying his Braille Reader down and placing a hand on my shoulder. "Carleigh," he whispered, "it's all right." But it wasn't all right. I insisted he never read another word from that book to me again. I couldn't take it. I asked for Bailey (who usually runs away immediately at the sound of my oncoming tears) and Scott dutifully retrieved him. I hugged my dog to me and cried some more. I love that dog. We did not return to the book.
Then, Scott and I holidayed in New England this fall. We were driving between Boston and Maine and I needed to be read to to stay awake while driving after a red eye. I inhaled and made my request. I wanted to try again. I wanted to hear A Dog's Purpose. So Scott read. And I cried. And he read more that night, and again the next day between Maine and New Hampshire, between Concord and Montpelier. We finished that beautiful book in Providence, late at night, and again I wept. Scott held me close for a long time. We laughed and talked about Bailey. I cried a little more. And then we slept.
Having a dog (and a dog having you, truth be told) is one of the great joys of life. Loving Bailey has opened my heart in ways I never knew it could be opened. I am a better person because of him and I am an even better person for having read A Dog's Purpose.
We've got to choose our dog books carefully. (Where the Red Fern Grows? Yes. The Art of Racing in the Rain? No.) I recommend this book to anyone who needs a shot of emotion straight to the heart, or needs to be reminded that there are always second (and third, and fourth) chances to get things right.
My darling Scott started reading this book to me at night in the late summer. Scott employed a perfectly-honed voice for the puppy narrator, all mischief and wonder, unabashed love and learning. I was starting to fall in love with the story until - well, I won't give away what the major plot device of this book is, but let's just say until.
I cried uncontrollably. I pressed my face into my pillow and wept. Scott tried to comfort me, laying his Braille Reader down and placing a hand on my shoulder. "Carleigh," he whispered, "it's all right." But it wasn't all right. I insisted he never read another word from that book to me again. I couldn't take it. I asked for Bailey (who usually runs away immediately at the sound of my oncoming tears) and Scott dutifully retrieved him. I hugged my dog to me and cried some more. I love that dog. We did not return to the book.
Having a dog (and a dog having you, truth be told) is one of the great joys of life. Loving Bailey has opened my heart in ways I never knew it could be opened. I am a better person because of him and I am an even better person for having read A Dog's Purpose.
We've got to choose our dog books carefully. (Where the Red Fern Grows? Yes. The Art of Racing in the Rain? No.) I recommend this book to anyone who needs a shot of emotion straight to the heart, or needs to be reminded that there are always second (and third, and fourth) chances to get things right.
Thursday, December 15, 2011
My Favorite Books of 2011
Some of the below were published prior to this year but I read them in 2011 and this is a totalitarian blog, so I get to do what I want. These are the books that I loved the most in 2011.
Big Girl Small, Rachel DeWoskin (2011)
I first fell in love with a character with dwarfism many years ago, reading the beautiful Stones From the River by Ursula Hegi. So I was happy and tingly to read Rachel DeWoskin's debut novel, the story of Judy, a short girl with a big voice (both literally and literarily). This wasn't the romantic, disabled-girl-with-a-heart-of-gold-overcomes-life's-challenges tome that I thought it would be, though. This was young adult fiction with a major twist of realism: Judy is victimized in the same way that young women are victimized every day and she has to deal with it just like every young woman has to deal with it - regardless of her disability. DeWoskin's take on the very real and horrific sexual encounters of the young really got to me. I recommend this book for anyone who likes strong but fallible female characters.
Room, by Emma Donoghue (2010)
Room was published in 2010 and I can't believe I didn't read it before 2011. I feel like this novel completely expanded the reach of the grand literary device of POV. Never before have I read such a terrifyingly moving and accurate narration. Jack turns 5 in the first chapter. With painful accuracy of this child's development, Jack's world starts to come into focus and we wish we had never looked. Room is our worst nightmares come true; Room is a truth of the human condition that cannot be ignored.
Sweet Valley Confidential, Francine Pascal (2011)
I read this. I'm not going to lie; I never lie. I read this book in one giant sweep of adoration and affection, despite the fact that I threw the thing from my hands in frustration every other chapter. Why? Because every other chapter is written in Jessica's hyperbolized voice. Yuck! I want a rewrite! I demand a rewrite! More importantly, I want more!! This book makes the list just because I'm a sucker for sentimentality. My major criticism with the story line (Elizabeth has lost Todd to Jessica; they're both lost without her, yada yada yada) is that it isn't true to the franchise's plot lines and character arcs, but who cares. My favorite books of the series were always Jessica's Secret Diaries, the ones where we found out that she and Todd cheated together many, many, many times. So, no surprise.
Man's Search for Meaning by Viktor Frankl (published many times, first anonymously in 1949 and later with Frankl's name in several reprintings)
My therapist recommended I read Man's Search for Meaning because I'm a Holocaust fetishist but also because I need some help dealing with my own suffering. Frankl's part Holocaust memoir, part Introduction to Logotherapy was a compelling read. I could see, taste, smell Auschwitz. I could also see, taste, smell a palpable will to live, the waxing and waning of hope in the most extreme circumstances, and I could also understand the strong desire to create something out of otherwise the opposite of something - a vacuum of destruction. We are broken, again and again by life, by ourselves, by others. We are rebuilt again and again by life, ourselves, by others. This book was meaningful to me in 2011; may it be meaningful to generations to come.
Eating Animals by Jonathan Safran Foer (2009). I became a vegan in 2009. To bolster my willpower, I read this important and meticulously-researched work of nonfiction by the always-impressively boom-voiced Foer. This book was life-changing for me because it was absolutely riveting. A stylistic choice I did not appreciate, however, was the exclusion of footnotes and sources until the end. I would have much rather had every fact's citation nearby than having had to wait until the end to try to absorb some of the intensive and extensive body of research (not that I didn't believe the unbelievable findings of Foer, but that some of the shit in that book was so crazy - I needed to know more; I needed the truth of the truth). So, I am vegan still, and I sometimes hold this book in my hands and just shudder with the truth of what we call food in this country.
Big Girl Small, Rachel DeWoskin (2011)
I first fell in love with a character with dwarfism many years ago, reading the beautiful Stones From the River by Ursula Hegi. So I was happy and tingly to read Rachel DeWoskin's debut novel, the story of Judy, a short girl with a big voice (both literally and literarily). This wasn't the romantic, disabled-girl-with-a-heart-of-gold-overcomes-life's-challenges tome that I thought it would be, though. This was young adult fiction with a major twist of realism: Judy is victimized in the same way that young women are victimized every day and she has to deal with it just like every young woman has to deal with it - regardless of her disability. DeWoskin's take on the very real and horrific sexual encounters of the young really got to me. I recommend this book for anyone who likes strong but fallible female characters.
Room, by Emma Donoghue (2010)
Room was published in 2010 and I can't believe I didn't read it before 2011. I feel like this novel completely expanded the reach of the grand literary device of POV. Never before have I read such a terrifyingly moving and accurate narration. Jack turns 5 in the first chapter. With painful accuracy of this child's development, Jack's world starts to come into focus and we wish we had never looked. Room is our worst nightmares come true; Room is a truth of the human condition that cannot be ignored.
Sweet Valley Confidential, Francine Pascal (2011)
I read this. I'm not going to lie; I never lie. I read this book in one giant sweep of adoration and affection, despite the fact that I threw the thing from my hands in frustration every other chapter. Why? Because every other chapter is written in Jessica's hyperbolized voice. Yuck! I want a rewrite! I demand a rewrite! More importantly, I want more!! This book makes the list just because I'm a sucker for sentimentality. My major criticism with the story line (Elizabeth has lost Todd to Jessica; they're both lost without her, yada yada yada) is that it isn't true to the franchise's plot lines and character arcs, but who cares. My favorite books of the series were always Jessica's Secret Diaries, the ones where we found out that she and Todd cheated together many, many, many times. So, no surprise.
Man's Search for Meaning by Viktor Frankl (published many times, first anonymously in 1949 and later with Frankl's name in several reprintings)
My therapist recommended I read Man's Search for Meaning because I'm a Holocaust fetishist but also because I need some help dealing with my own suffering. Frankl's part Holocaust memoir, part Introduction to Logotherapy was a compelling read. I could see, taste, smell Auschwitz. I could also see, taste, smell a palpable will to live, the waxing and waning of hope in the most extreme circumstances, and I could also understand the strong desire to create something out of otherwise the opposite of something - a vacuum of destruction. We are broken, again and again by life, by ourselves, by others. We are rebuilt again and again by life, ourselves, by others. This book was meaningful to me in 2011; may it be meaningful to generations to come.
Eating Animals by Jonathan Safran Foer (2009). I became a vegan in 2009. To bolster my willpower, I read this important and meticulously-researched work of nonfiction by the always-impressively boom-voiced Foer. This book was life-changing for me because it was absolutely riveting. A stylistic choice I did not appreciate, however, was the exclusion of footnotes and sources until the end. I would have much rather had every fact's citation nearby than having had to wait until the end to try to absorb some of the intensive and extensive body of research (not that I didn't believe the unbelievable findings of Foer, but that some of the shit in that book was so crazy - I needed to know more; I needed the truth of the truth). So, I am vegan still, and I sometimes hold this book in my hands and just shudder with the truth of what we call food in this country.
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