Chang and Eng, by Darin Strauss

Yesterday I told my friend Tessa that life is too short to read anything you don't thoroughly enjoy. Then I went back to slogging my way through this book, which I have been failing to enjoy lo these many months.

Sometimes I'm just sure I'm going to love a book, either because I've heard good things about it or, as in this case, I have really liked other books by the same author. But of course tastes vary, and liking an author doesn't mean liking all of his work. Still, this was so hard to give up on! The premise is pretty fascinating; it's the fictional memoir of one of the original Siamese twins. The writing is good, the story is promising, but I just didn't like it.

Chang, the narrator, is a complete misanthrope. And the person he dislikes the most? His conjoined twin, Eng. I can relate to his desire to be alone; I am pretty reclusive myself. His total disconnection from every other human being, however, became oppressive. That and his sense of utter superiority. Could one really spend every single moment inches away from another human and feel nothing but contempt for him? This seems unlikely to me. If true, I can  not bear to read about it, and would much prefer to sweep it under the rug of ignorance.

As long as I'm complaining, I will note one other problem I had with this book. The twins were connected by some sort of ligament, referred to here as a band. Although many other details of scenery and physical countenance in the novel conjured up vivid images, I just can't manage to picture this bond. Or band. Or ligament. Or... something. Google returns nothing useful; there were a few pictures taken of the twins, but none that show how they were attached. The band is mentioned often, and this lack of a visual representation drove me crazy.

I loved Darin Strauss' memoir, Half a Life, and look forward to reading his other books. And I'm glad I didn't spend another minute trying to like this one. Life is, after all, too short to spend reading anything you don't thoroughly enjoy.

November

November has caught me reading several books at a time, which is always tricky - once I divert my attention it's hard to say whether it will ever return. 


I started An Arsonist's Guide to Writers' Homes in New England: A Novel, by Brock Clark, but only got through about half. The tone charmed me at first, but soon grated. He's sort of a modern-day Vonnegut, and his novel would benefit from Vonnegut-like brevity. 



I'm mid-way through Chang and Eng, by Darin Strauss, which I'm enjoying but seem to have put down for a little while. More about that one in the future.



We the Animals, by Justin Torres, is a first novel and a truly wonderful book, which always bodes well for the future. It's very short, which lets you gulp it down in a sitting or two; just the way it should be experienced. This story of the youngest of three bear-cub brothers and their very young parents is emotionally charged, to say the least. It's one of those very visceral novels, with no real dialogue, and a compelling immediacy. Highly recommended. It really deserves a post of its own, but may not get one.


I read two kid's books this month:


The Liberation of Gabriel King, by K.L. Going, is a good story, well-told, about a fearful boy and his best friend in the just-starting-to-segregate South of the 60's. 

I Am the Ice Worm, by Maryann Easly was so-so; interestingly set in the Arctic, but spotty in terms of plot and character. My book-obsessed 10-year-old liked it.

Now we're into December, and I'm reading yet another great book. Stay tuned... 

Love, Aubrey, by Suzanne LaFleur

This is my just-turned-ten-year-old daughter's favorite book. About a month ago, she was reading it in her bed, tears streaming down her cheeks, saying, "This is the best book EVER! But it's so sad." Two weeks later, there I was in bed, reading this book and crying. I won't say it's the best book ever, but it's pretty good.

Eleven-year-old Aubrey has lost her father and sister in a car crash, and now her mother has disappeared, leaving her to fend for herself. Fortunately, her grandmother takes her in, and the book takes place over the course of the next year. As you can imagine, Aubrey's got a little processing to do. Heavy stuff for a kids' book, but I think it's just the right mix of serious and fun; it turns out that life doesn't end when your family is gone, though it seems like it should.

The author, Suzanne LaFleur, is exactly the kind of adult I wanted to be when I was a child. She's in her mid-twenties, and so hasn't been a bona fide grownup for all that long - I hope she can sustain her absolute coolness. You can read about her on her website. If you loved Harriet the Spy and heroines of her ilk, you will love Suzanne LaFleur.

http://www.suzannelafleur.com/Suzanne.html

I don't read that much kids' lit these days, but when my children particularly love something I will give it a try. I remember reading my favorites over and over again, in a way I just wouldn't as an adult. This is a great pick for the tweeners, and not a bad grownup read if you're ready to shed a few tears.

A Reliable Wife, by Robert Goolrick

This book is everywhere these days, including the top of many must-read lists. I've been surfing the net for hours, trying to figure out who likes this book so much, and why. I have come to the conclusion that it is beloved by people who adore bodice-ripping romances, but like them to feel like good literature.

As for it being a prime choice for book clubs, my bias against that designation has just increased. Surely people who get together to explore character and motivation would require something with a little more subtlety and substance.

I admit to having finished the book; I wanted to see how it ended (though I hated the ending). It struck me, originally, as a typical first novel; a little obvious, with the author tending to explain what was happening, rather than just letting events unfold. Eventually, however, the prose descended to platitudes, with characters summing up their entire lives in single sentences. From chapter to chapter, everybody's behavior changed one hundred and eighty degrees, yet they all calmly stated that they would never return to their former ways. Except that they did, over and over. Then they'd state again that they had changed, utterly.

The plot snapshot is this: 1907, Wisconsin. A wealthy, and I mean Midas-like, widower waits for his mail-order bride. Surprise, she is not the woman she claimed to be. No problem, he is patience itself. She goes off, at his request, \ in search of his long-lost son. Surprise, she returns to the former life we, the readers, had guessed she'd led. She returns to her husband, and yes, she does chooses this version of her life after all. Then the son throws a wrench into the works. Love, guilt, shame, and emotional blackmail ensue. And sex, lots of sex.

The thing that bothered me the most about this book was the timeline. It all takes place over the course of a single winter. Now I know that Wisconsin winters are long and hard, but honestly, this one must have lasted for 17 months! Statements such as "night after night" and "day after day" are used with great frequency in this book, which leads the reader to assume that each section of the book lasts for, well, weeks and weeks.

As I mentioned, other people do like this book. Here's a much more complimentary review, from the Washington Post. I might still read Goolrick's memoir, The End of the World as We Know It. It sounds like the kind of dysfunctional family history I enjoy, and it's set in the South, where they really know how to do family drama. He should probably have left the cold, austere winters of Wisconsin alone.

The Girl Who Fell From the Sky, by Hiedi W. Durrow

Another great local author! Well, localish - among the many places she's lived, she counts Portland as the one she hails from. The book is great, and the author is nothing short of amazing. She's already been extremely successful in both academics and several varied careers. She hosts the annual Mixed Roots Film and Literary Festival, and my favorite thing, co-hosts the weekly podcast, Mixed Chicks Chat, with her friend and colleague Fanshon Cox. Listen to it here, you'll be glad you did. As long as you're on her site, read her quick interesting bio and look at her family photo albums.

Okay, enough hero-worship, on to the book. This is one of those that should be extremely depressing, but somehow isn't. It is certainly heartbreaking; the eleven-year-old protagonist loses most of her family in a tragedy, which remains shrouded in mystery until the end of the book, and even then is fairly incomprehensible.  It is just about the complete opposite of Your Presence is Requested at Suvanto, which I finished a couple of days earlier. That book was all finely wrought physical details, and little sense of the world outside. This novel is made up of a series of events, clearly stated, reacted to, and reflected upon.

Although it's not very long, an awful lot happens in this novel. The protagonist, Rachel, is a child of mixed race and nationality. She has lived most of her eleven years on Army bases, unaware of the oddity of having a black American father and white Danish mother. When most of her family dies in a bizarre accident, she is sent to live with her grandmother in Portland. Here she is quickly made aware of racial differences; in Portland, she is black.

This is one unlucky family, and Rachel seems to be the only one who is holding up. The story unfolds in waves, following Rachel, a boy who witnessed the accident which killed her family, and a former friend of her deceased mother. Most of the members of her family buckle under the sorrow of loss, but this girl is tough. Come to think of it, I'd be tempted to classify this as YA, though it doesn't seem to be advertised as such. It has all the hallmark of good YA lit; a young heroine who makes her mistakes but stays true to herself, an out-of-the-ordinary friend who makes the real difference in her life, messed-up adults to rebel against... I recommend it.

Your Presence is Requested at Suvanto, by Maile Chapman

I have no idea what happened at the end of this book. The conclusion was so intentionally murky that I didn't get it at all. Plot, however, is not really the point of this novel. It's all about atmosphere and repressed emotion.

That makes it easy to synopsize: Sunny is head nurse at Suvanto, a hospital in rural Finland that caters, in part, to a clientele of wealthy not-sick but not-well women. These "up-patients," so called because they live on the top floor of the building, are in many cases there to hide out from life as much as to recover from illness. Sunny herself is hiding out, having fled the United States (I think) soon after the protracted death of her mother.

There is no indication of what is going on in the world outside. In fact, I have only the vaguest idea of when the story takes place. I originally thought it was the 1940's, but then decided it was more like the twenties... or thirties? There is no mention of war, which usually provides an anchor for novels set in the first half of the 20th century, particularly in Europe. If the characters are between wars, they don't ever mention the one that's past. Likewise, personal details about all of the characters are shrouded, hinted at, and sometimes revealed in intriguing but frustratingly brief nuggets.

In contrast, both the setting and present events are told in beautiful detail. I have such vivid pictures in  my mind of the hospital hallways, the patients, the rooms. Corny as it sounds, I can feel the heat of the sauna, and hear the rare muffled sounds of the forest in the snow. Reading this book is a profoundly sensory experience.

If one wanted to escape, an island off the coast of Finland might be the best place to do it. The language is extremely hard to master, the people private in the extreme, and it's dark a whole lot of the time. A huge hospital in a remote ice-locked bay seems like a setting for an intensely spooky story.  There is one creepy event near the end, but for the most part the disturbing stuff is all internal.

Each personal story is tinged with a sense of the difficulty of being a woman. Some characters are pushed into being caretakers,  some mildly abused by the men in their lives,  others scared of sexuality. Ultimately, the up-patients create a catty society of one-upmanship that is not unlike a high school clique, while Sunny, the outsider, flees from a chance at real friendship. All of this is gently blanketed by the calm daily routine of the hospital, just as the footprints of miscreants are covered with the deep winter snow.

Louisiana Power and Light, by John Dufresne

Note to self: next time read John Dufresne on vacation! His novels have so many well-drawn characters, all of whom are connected through odd circumstances. As it was, reading a little bit a day, I found myself leafing back through the book several times, trying to remember who they all were, and how they were related.

The novel, much like his later Requiem, Mass., rattles along at breakneck speed, scattering colorful details and random erudition in its wake. This is a very funny book, which veers fearlessly into tragedy. I am reminded of Larry McMurtry, another author who is not afraid to kill off absolutely any character, and usually just as you've come to love them.

Billy Wayne Fontana is the last of a cursed tribe. The Fontana clan runs exclusively to male progeny, who are often deformed at birth, and rarely make it to childbearing age. Which may be just as well, considering the trouble they get themselves into as adults. As the last living Fontana, it looks as though Billy Wayne may have escaped the family fate. He is almost done with seminary when he meets Earlene deBastrop, and his life veers into maelstrom of love and expectation.

Much of this book is taken up with the question of whether one can avoid one's fate, and the corollary question, do our expectations determine the trajectory of our lives? I got a little bogged down with Billy Wayne's travels down this road. Mostly, he seems to have avoided acting on many of his good impulses. The resulting downward spiral belies the hopeful beginning, which should probably come as no surprise, given the narrator's dire predictions.

I do think I might have enjoyed this novel more had I read it more quickly; unfinished books eventually become tiresome. It is funny, fast-paced, and filled with memorable characters.

The Bones, by Seth Greenland

First, let me say that I really hope that this book is made into a movie. It will be funny and edgy in that great Hollywood kind of way; Seth Greenland is a talented writer, good at the one liner and the film/lit reference, which always makes the reader, or viewer, feel smart and with it. I must admit that I am a tiny bit tired of the entertainment industry as entertainment: don't they already control the world and most of its content? That, however, is more a matter of my literary choices, and less a matter of the quality of this book.

That being said, I loved the first 3/4 of this book, and was frustrated by (surprise!) the ending. I had it pegged for the perfect vacation read, but I think it would hold up best if you read the very end just as your plane was landing, while you were filled with the sentimentality of exhaustion and longing that comes with the end of a trip.

Okay, plot. This book is about two friends, more or less. One is an extremely, if inadvertently, successful TV writer. The other is a very talented and moderately successful stand up comic. As the writer's star rises, the comedian's is setting. Jealousy ensues on both sides, as no one has quite achieved the life he envisioned. Fate pulls them back into the same orbit, and a series of poor decisions drives the story to its wacky conclusion. It's written in a sardonic, visual style. I pictured the whole story taking place onscreen.


What I liked about this book: The characters are sympathetic, the writing is very engaging.

What I didn't like about this book: Tenses. For heaven's sake, don't mess with the tenses. I was unable, ultimately, to determine whether the author was using the present tense as a literary device, then deliberately switching to the past, or whether the publishers simply forgot to hire a copy editor. Either way, it was damned annoying.

The ending. Both the very end, and the penultimate journey. I think that if you are going to go that far over the top, and introduce a lot of bad guys and weapons and getaway cars, it's just not cool to get all rainbow-hued and sappy at the end.

Sweet Mary, by Liz Balmaseda

I don't really have much to say about this book. It was entertaining, it started out much more strongly than it ended, the heroine was engaging. I don't really expect thrillers to adhere to the laws of reality, but this one stretched, to the point of discomfort, my ability to believe. The things I did like about it: Miami is just a really cool place to set a book. The protagonist was likable, as were her family and friends. The good guys were vindicated, the bad guys got theirs. (Not much of a spoiler - you expect this from the outset.) If there were a sequel I would probably give it a chance.

Where I heard about this book: Browsing at the library again - I am truly a geek. I chose it because it had a Carl Hiasson quote on the cover.

What I thought of this book: Okay. 2 stars.

What this book is about: Mary, a successful single mother, is arrested in her house, in broad daylight, in front of her child, accused of being a drug lord. It is a case of mistaken identity, which Mary is determined to clear up. A sort of typical woman-as-amateur-sleuth story ensues, replete with rekindled flame and spunky best friend. I only wish that the end had lived up to the promise of the beginning - I engaged in a lot of eye-rolling before I reached the end.

The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian, by Sherman Alexie

Odd, the way you'll read a book and then immediately find another similarly-themed one. This is my second-in-a-row fictional autobiography that is based pretty closely on the life of the author. And I'm pleased to say that it was every bit as good as the last one. Whenever I read really great YA fiction, I wonder why I don't spend more time reading really great YA fiction. It is often so much more satisfying than grown-up lit.

Where I heard about this book: Tessa, greatest officemate ever.

What I thought of this book: Fantastic! 5 stars and many moons!

What this book is about: This is the diary of a misfit 14 year-old Indian. He's already an outcast on the rez, so it doesn't seem that things could be much worse at the area's only good high school. Except that it is populated exclusively by white kids who aren't too fond of Indians. And his fellow Indians consider his bid for a better life a betrayal. Nevertheless, Junior grabs what may be his only chance to escape a future of alcoholism and despair. This is one of those amazing books that makes you laugh even as it's breaking your heart. The hero is funny and honest and self-deprecating and extremely likable.

Moonlight In Odessa, by Janet Skeslien Charles

I may just have found my new favorite sub-genre: mail-order bride fiction.


Where I heard about this book: Found it while browsing at the library.


What I thought of this book: Fun! 3 1/2 stars


What this book is about: A feisty intelligent young woman in Odessa seeks both a future in America and a loving husband, so naturally she ends up dating Americans on wife-finding junkets. This is good chick lit - it's got all the elements of a cheesy romance novel, but is much better. The heroine is great, the writing is good. What makes the book really stand out is the description of life in post-Soviet Russia. The phrase "as we say in Odessa" became slightly tiresome after a while, but this glimpse into the life of a modern Russian woman was fascinating. As with all formulaic novels, the obvious plot twists take some forbearance, but it's a quick and entertaining enough read that the reader doesn't get too bogged down. I'd recommend this for airplanes, beaches or sick days.

Here's an interesting look at several covers designs for the novel - the ones that were used in different countries, the one that wasn't chosen - a part of the novel that impacts the readers, but to which we rarely pay much attention.

e by Matt Beaumont

If I were to return to school and slog my way through a PhD so that I could teach literature, my specialty would definitely be office lit. Come to think of it, having just such an odd specialty might help snag me a place in a PhD program... But no, I am a happy amateur reader. And happy to have read this very entertaining book.


Where I heard about this book: My sister Anne and Carie, with whom I used to work at the library.


What I thought of this book: Great. 5 stars.


What this book is about: Told entirely in email, this is the story of the inner workings of an ad agency over the course of two very busy weeks. Matt Beaumont manages to create fully realized characters merely through their messages to, from and about one another. A great comic tale full of intrigue, ego, betrayal and political maneuvering, this is one of those beautifully rendered satires that remains oddly credible in spite of the outrageousness of both its characters and plot twists. Upon browsing Beaumont's website, amusingly titled letstalkaboutme.com, I've decided to put not only all of his novels on my reading list, but also every book written by his wife, Maria Beaumont.

Swimming, by Nicola Keegan

This book has the distinction of having an acknowledgment section which is every bit as entertaining as the story itself. Not to mention thought-provoking - who is this guy she raves about and to whom she promises forever, when her husband gets only a brief mention?


What I thought of this book: 5 stars!

Well, maybe 4 7/8. I started to slip slightly near the end, but that may be more my pathological hatred of endings than any fault of the author.

Where I heard about this book: I can't remember! It was on my goodreads to-read list, so probably one of my friends recommended it.

What this book is about: A swimmer. A very, very good swimmer, who encounters more than her fair share of personal tragedy at a young age. It's about her growing up, about the people who help her grow up, and about how she manages the complicated reality of being grown up.

Swimming is a near-perfect combination of character, story and style. In a speech about the book, Nicola Keegan says that she tried to hate one of her characters, but that an "underlying rushing river of goddamn compassion" overtook her. Which to my mind is how authors should feel about their characters: it is what keeps them (the characters) from being two-dimensional. The story is engaging and feels to me like real life, with all its attendant stops and starts and wonderings and frights. It is the writing that shines above all - Keegan has a truly unique voice - I could have read this book for weeks.

Here's a piece she wrote about writing the book. That's convoluted, I know, but it will give you a sense of her terrific style.

Then We Came To The End, Joshua Ferris

3 1/2 stars

4th in the novels set at work series. You will feel like you are working with these people, for better or for worse.

This first novel generated a lot of buzz before it ever came out. A lot of that buzz centered on the fact that it is written in the first person plural. This 'we' is appropriate to the denizens of the office, though I think that to some extent it kept me from really forming an attachment to many of them. There is also no back story to any of the characters - we just jump into their lives midstream. Again, this is very effective in demonstrating the notion that we don't really know our colleagues as entire people, we just know their at-work personae.

I wanted to love this book, but found that I couldn't quite get there. Pretty much everyone who reviewed it raved about it, which always makes me think I must be missing something if I don't, too. It is entertaining. I was slightly relieved by the middle section, which is told in the third person and is plot-driven - regular novel style. When I came to the end, I found I cared more for the individuals than I would have originally believed.

Here's an interview with Joshua Ferris about the book.

After the Fire, a Still Small Voice, by Evie Wylde

5 stars!

This was an impulse pick - I chose it for the title, and because it's set in Australia. What an incredible find! It' a first novel, described by the author herself as a "romantic thriller about men who don't talk". That's a fairly apt description; these men don't talk much, but they sure do feel.

The story moves back and forth between father and son. This is a construction that in my opinion can be very confusing and interrupting, but here it really does serve to illustrate a generational legacy of sorrow and isolation. I was riveted.

Here is a clip of Evie Wylde talking about the experiences she had as a child visiting family in Australia, which inspired the book. It's about 5 minutes long; she is charming.