The #20BooksofSummerChallenge Wrap-up

Fall has officially descended here upon Southern Germany and I am happy to report that while I did not complete 20 books in 3 months, I did reach my personal goal of 10 before September 3rd.

My last three books were all super excellent!

#8 Running Home a memoir by Katie Arnold

I enjoyed this story a great deal. I don’t think you have to be a runner to enjoy it. Katie Arnold was the Leadville 100 champion last year and is in her mid-40’s, so I find her to be particularly inspiring as I deal with the declines of my 40s. But her memoir is about dealing with grief from the loss of her father, combined with new revelations about her childhood as well as postpartum difficulties from having a baby at the same time:  a perfect storm of mental health attacks. And it’s about how running, and time, and love and support saved her.

#9 Station Eleven by Emily St. John Mandel

I thought this was an excellent summer read! The story is about the time 15 years after the collapse of civilization and a band of musicians and actors that travel to survivors camps and towns to perform Shakespeare and play symphonies. The narrative jumps to that present time and back to the day or two before the collapse began with a wildly contagious flu. The main characters are expertly interwoven in their pre and post-collapse connections. While this book was a lot of fun to read, it was also a time for solemn reflection about what we will shortly face and what life might look like.

#10 The Glass Castle by Jeannette Walls

Wow, this story is incredible. The level of neglect Walls and her siblings endured is eye-popping and hard to believe. Because you never doubt that her parents love her and her siblings. But the way they conducted themselves is purely criminal. However, if they had been caught, the children would have been split up and maybe this would not have a happy ending. At the same time, this book is a celebration of the American spirit. You do not have to be a product of where you came from in our country. You can still make your own way. Or at least, they were able to at the time and this story is inspiring as a result.

Now we’re back full-on in school mode and I’m reading several books for school and myself. For me, I’m reading I Have the Right to Destroy Myself which is more depressing Korean fiction and I’m reading Training for the Uphill Athlete. For school, I’m reading Things Fall Apart (for IB English) and Challenger Deep (for Middle School). According to Goodreads.com, I’m way behind on my annual goal of 30 books. I’ve only read 17. So we’ll see.

Happy reading!

Books 6 and 7 of the #20booksofsummerchallenge and a birthday book haul

Book number 6 ended up being something that wasn’t on my original list and the next few after #7 are going to the be the same since I got a stack of books for my birthday.

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#6 Eating Animals by Jonathan Foer

I saw this book on our shelf at home, left behind from our renters. I just picked it up and started and it was a quick-read to the end. I’m not sure why I felt compelled to read this. I’m already a vegetarian. I already know how horrific factory farming and animal-for-consumption-slaughter is. I’ve avoided fish even longer, realizing the damage we are doing to the ocean is a travesty. So, I’m not on the fence in need of further convincing. But what this book did give me is more data and reasoning behind my arguments. Not that I go around proselytizing. Quite the opposite–people attack me when they learn I’m vegetarian and I often find myself on the defensive these days. Because as soon as someone asks me “why?” then with my answers they automatically assume I must be judging them. I try to avoid these conversations because these decisions are moral and ethically motivated, so I don’t know how to respond without people feeling like I’m the one doing the attacking. But Foer makes a good point in that it’s not enough that I don’t eat meat. I should lean into these conversations and I think this book has given me some good ways to do that.

#7 Hag-Seed by Margaret Atwood

At first I was a bit skeptical about this book. It’s a re-telling of The Tempest and at first I thought that the main character directing The Tempest was just a little too much–too beating me over the head with it. BUT, I came to adore this story even long before the brilliantly clever ending. As the narrative points out, The Tempest itself is like a play within a play. And so this re-telling makes it a *Tempest* within a *Tempest* within a *Tempest*, as the themes and narrative are played out at multiple levels. At the same time, the theme of imprisonment in the actual play is re-told in an actual prison and so the level of further understanding one gains from the original play becomes so much more rich.

I loved the characters in this novel and the wry tone. I adored it that the prisoners were only allowed to use Shakespearean insults as their curse words. Insults ends up being one of my favorite lessons with students and so these parts were particularly entertaining. I loved Felix, the main character, and the magic he wove both with his drama program and with his revenge in making his enemies live The Tempest. This was so clever. I cannot wait to read this book again with students. As someone who loves Shakespeare, this re-telling was so special to me.

A little haul:

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For my 40th birthday, I had margaritas and then spent a good hour or so in the Boulder Bookstore. I also ordered a couple of books I had an eye on. So, my next current reads are Running Home by Katie Arnold and Training for the Uphill Athlete. 

It’s looking like maybe with my goal of 10 I was being a little too easy on myself this summer. Perhaps I can do more? I have well over a month to go….

Books #4 and #5 of the #20booksofsummerchallenge

4. The Importance of Being Earnest by Oscar Wilde

I really enjoyed this play and I’m excited to teach it next year. I love commentary on Victorian society and thought this play was hilarious and witty. There are so many zingers and excellent one-liners. I think it will be very fun to have students read parts aloud in their most affected Judy Dench accent.

5. The Fault in our Stars by John Green

I might be the last YA lit reader on planet Earth to have read this, but I’m glad I finally did. There are so many beautiful, poignant and honest observations about life as these terminally ill teenagers try to make sense of it all. Of course it’s sad. Yes, it’s heartbreaking. But it is truly beautiful and stands out in ways that other simply sad books can’t touch. I’m a better person for having read it and what it’s given me. IMG_5450

Book Review: Sula by Toni Morrison (#3 of the #20booksofsummerchallenge)

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It was so nice to revisit Toni Morrison. It has been a lot of years since I read one of her novels. I really liked the scope of this novel about a poor black community in an Ohio town, mostly during a 20 year span from 1920 to 1941 and with a check in in 1965. I’ve not taught a Morrison before, but I think this one would be excellent for the advanced literature classroom of upper school grades.

I loved how the character Shadrack’s mental illness and PTSD framed the story and led to town tragedy, and I appreciated the realness of the bickering, jealousy and dogma of the community. I found it true to human nature. I loved the touches of magical realism, too, like the robins that accompany Sula’s return and the deweys.

But of course, I loved Sula the most. She is a woman who doesn’t understand or own shame and refuses to apologize for being a woman and human. What the community took as “evil” people would now call “woke.” The relationship between Nel and Sula is so complex and beautifully imagined–two halves of the same person. Morally, neither better or worse than the other. I really appreciate how Morrison structured this look-in-mirror for one woman who always assumed herself to be “better.”

What I’m still grappling with and sorting through is the parade. The jazz funeral (or at least that’s how I see it) and what compelled people to join it and their real feelings about Sula. I also wondered for some time why narrative was spent on Nel’s childhood journey to New Orleans, but now I think it’s because of Shadrack’s parade, as well as revealing the depth of character of Nel and her mother, Helene Wright. And the passage about Nel’s grandmother is so fraught with symbolism and foreshadowing about both Sula and the tragedy at the tunnel, it makes a re-read of the novel necessary.

In conclusion, Toni Morrison knocks my socks off.

Book Review: Dear Life by Alice Munro

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This one is not a part of the 20 Books of Summer challenge. I finished this while on the train back from Berlin.

I picked this book up a few years ago and it was sitting on my shelf–lugged from the States to Korea and now to Germany. I believe it was published shortly after Munro won the Nobel Prize for her contributions to literature. The collection is a group of stories that feature women characters and most were published previously in magazines or anthologies. I think maybe three or four were new for this book.

I really didn’t love this collection. Throughout, I found many stories to be without much substance. The characters often made choices that weren’t developed or just didn’t seem that important or sequential. I most enjoyed “Corrie,” where I felt like the characters were well-developed, believable, and that the twist at the end was entertaining and worth the investment. Otherwise, I found most stories to have enjoyable moments but to be mostly mundane overall.

Munro is celebrated for her contributions to the short fiction genre because she successfully manages great movements through a timeline within a story. She tells her stories with crisp detail that moves the reader along. This collection does exemplify these traits, but it’s not enough to excite me.

*image credit: Penguin Random House: online reader’s guide

Book Review: The Vegetarian by Han Kang

It is hard to put all my thoughts on this book into words.

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It was compelling and I read it quickly. It was very Korean in style and mood, which is often a sort of mundane-depression feel with a sort of dissociative outside observer vibe. The descriptions, places, and people took me straight back to Korea.

In short, the subject of the novel, Yeong-hye, becomes a vegetarian after experiencing violent, bloody nightmares that won’t go away. Other characters’ reactions to her vegetarianism are certainly authentic. I won’t try to explain it all here, but food and families and nourishment are such sensitive topics in Korea. I absolutely believe the negative and even abusive reactions of family members. But this story is not about a woman who becomes a vegetarian and is rejected by her family. It is about a woman who is mentally ill who is rejected by and abused by her family, as well as about the sister and only person who tries to protect her (even against her own husband). 

This is an incredibly sensitive and complex look at the way mental health is viewed in South Korea. People live with so much pressure and stress, and not much to look forward to. This covers how people who are ill are misunderstood, stigmatized and mistreated, but also sheds an intellectual light on the choice to starve or whether that even is a choice if you suffer from a psychosis. The subject, Yeong-hye, fortunately has a sister, In-hye, who cares for her when she is in hospital. But even In-hye, at times, feels jealously, recognizing that she too (like all of us) falls somewhere on the mentally well/unwell spectrum and some people may have more of a luxury to flip out than others who would also like to give in to their demons but can’t or won’t.

“Though the ostensible reason for her not having wanted Yeong-hye to be discharged, the reason that she gave the doctor, was this worry about a possible relapse, now she was able to admit to herself what had really been going on. She was no longer able to cope with all that her sister reminded her of. She’d been unable to forgive her for soaring alone over a boundary she herself could never bring herself to cross, unable to forgive that magnificent irresponsibility that had enabled Yeong-hye to shuck off social constraints and leave her behind, still a prisoner. And before Yeon-hye had broken those bars, she’d never even known they were there.” (143)

I recommend this book especially for people who have lived in South Korea or for people who want to try to understand Korea. But a mild warning, as a teacher, this is not student appropriate. There are explicit vivid sex scenes involving abuse that will be hard for students to understand as Yeong-hye is a willing participant. Keeping that in mind, I really enjoyed this book and it has kept me thinking for weeks.

Book Review: Plainsong by Kent Haruf

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I received this book in the mail as part of an international book exchange. But the person who sent this is a friend and she picked this for me because the author lived in Colorado and the novel is set in the rural plains of Colorado. While this book has been around for awhile, it is a part of a series (according to Goodreads.com) and the most recent book was out in 2013. I had not heard of the author and so had no expectations. But I enjoyed this book immensely.

It is a fairly simple story that follows the lives of community members of Holt, Colorado–a fictional farm-town on the plains East of Denver. The characters are multi-generational. While the characters are not poor, they are also on the edge and a lost job or bad crop could spell disaster. But mostly, the stories seem to highlight how people in a community will care for one-another. I get the sense that we are losing true community as populations swell, people pay less attention to each other and rely on each other less. So this book is a nice reminder of what small town life looks like, or used to look like.

In the end, this novel is a beautifully woven tapestry of the muted colors of peoples’ lives that invariably intertwine. The kindness and humanity of the old bachelor farm brothers who take care of an abandoned teenage mother and the very young brothers who befriend an old lonesome woman seem to reflect each other. No matter the age or life story, kindness is kindness and love is love.

Book Review: The Pearl that Broke Its Shell by Nadia Hashimi

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I borrowed this book from a friend who read it over the Christmas break and loved it. I, however, had mixed feelings. I recognize that this puts me in the minority. I see a lot of online reviews praising the story telling in this book as though it is staggeringly remarkable and I just can’t agree about the craft. But I do think it’s worth a read in some instances. I enjoyed it at times, but I did not love it and was even a bit annoyed at times.

The book traces the path of a young girl growing up in Afghanistan. So, already you know what this story is about. She is married off too young to a man who could be her grandfather and is nearly killed in childbirth, is beaten by him and is generally treated horrifically by her new family of in-laws and additional wives. Her story is different though in that, as a child, she had the opportunity to go to school–being from a family of only girls, this story sheds light on the practice of making a female child into a boy, a bacha posh, who is allowed by society to move around the world like a boy. This is a great help to mothers who cannot leave the house and need errands taken care of. Of course when the child hits puberty, she has to return to her female identity. As a result, this girl becomes literate which eventually saves her life when it becomes necessary to escape.

The heroine finds inspiration in the parallel story of her great-great-grandmother, Bibi Shekiba. Shekiba was also a poor village girl, mistreated in every possible way, who eventually found herself living in Kabul and witness to the modernization of Afghanistan–before the Russian and Isis backslide, of course.

Both Shekiba and Rahima, the protagonist, have interesting stories that keep you wanting to know what will happen next. They both seem marked for better lives. The cruelty they experience at the hands of their relatives, other women, and the attitudes of society are frustrating and causes some dissonance for the reader to reconcile how horrible people are to each other. It makes you wonder how minds will be able to be changed and while Shekiba and Rahima rise above, they feel like a minority, and the treatment-of-women (often by other women) situation feels pretty hopeless.

So, the stories are interesting and compelling, but the way Bibi Shekiba’s story is told seems pretty sophomoric. Rahima is often visited by her aunt who tells her the story of Shekiba. Throughout, the aunt has to be there to continue the story. And Rahima asks to be told about her. But by the end of the novel, the author just continues with chapters about Shekiba. So, she clings to this plot device for 2/3 of the book before finally abandoning it into a much more comfortable parallel telling of the two stories. I think after reading Marra, my expectations for story weaving are pretty high and so I found this device annoying and difficult to overlook. The writing, at moments, uses a bit of imagery, and the bird references are a nice linking device, but there should be so much more of this to engage readers, transport them to Afghanistan, and allow for a moment of reflection. However, the lack of much imagery or thought makes this a very quick read, which I appreciated once I realized that I wasn’t going to love it but wanted to finish it anyway. I more easily forgave the editing lapses, like the accidental point of view shift in Shekiba’s stories. The editors hurried through the book and so did I!

So I think this is a good read if you are unfamiliar with the experiences of women in Afghanistan or if you need a light quick read for the beach or airplane. If you only love literary fiction, there is not much here to sink into and you should go pick up one of those Anthony Marra books.

 

Review: Anthony Marra’s The Zsar of Love and Techno

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In recent years, no other author has broken my heart like Anthony Marra. I read his first novel, A Constellation of Vital Phenomena, about three or four years ago. It was one of those books that you wish will not end because you know you will never find any other words so beautiful. No other novel will be able to compare. I half-heartedly read other books after that until I found Marra’s second book, The Zsar of Love and Techno. Billing itself simply as stories, it is decidedly not just a collection of short stories. It is very much a cohesive novel written into stand alone stories. Once again, I am left wondering if any book can ever again impart so much magic for me.

The stories jump from various locations in Russia (mostly Kirovsk) to Grozny and the Chechen Highlands, beginning in 1937 and spanning through to outer space, the year unknown. There is an interesting connection via a painting in the first two stories and then by the middle of the third story, you begin to realize that all of the stories will have characters overlapping in some way and that this is perhaps not what you thought it would be at first. It slowly dawns on you that each story is a vital piece of the whole and that all of the stories will be linked by the painting.

The second linking device is the use of a mixed tape, made by one of the characters, but that also forms the organization of stories, as though each was a song. There is an A side, followed by an extended intermission in which we learn about two central characters and the origin of the tape–to be opened only in case of emergency, and then the side B stories do a lot of ends-tying. All stories, characters, and time periods converge so beautifully by the end of the second to last story. You see it coming and know you’ll weep but that does not make the resolution any less powerful.

The final story is the last end to be tied–Kolya must be the last person, Russian of course, the only human survivor of planetary nuclear holocaust. We know that his brother Alexi’s name will be the last human word and thought and it’s delivery is so poignant it cuts through the solar system, into the great beyond.

While I think the devices Marra confidently uses in all of his work are marks of literary accomplishment–shifting time, points of view, narrative voice, perfectly chosen imagery, diction, plot, overlap, etc–his real genius lies in making forgotten people profound. He humanizes people, places, and wars that most Americans, and world citizens alike, know nothing about. He then expresses through these people love so pure and heartrending, you can’t help but feel that these people could be you. He makes you care.

Like I said, I believed that I had been ruined forever from enjoying another book again after loving A Constellation of Vial Phenomena so very much. But this book has touched me again at my core. It is so extraordinary. Please, someone, give this man a gigantic grant so that he may continue to write and write and write…