The Host

I have not written in a while, which is not to say that I have not read anything in a while. In fact, I have read a number of books lately, all with varying levels of interest. Only one has prompted me to blog.

I finished THE HOST a minute ago. Written by Stephenie Meyer, it mimics almost nothing from the TWILIGHT series-- except the idea of not fitting in, of being an oddity in an odd world. In TWILIGHT, of course, Bella (the human) falls in love with Edward (the vampire) and battles her feelings for Jacob (the werewolf). In THE HOST, Souls take over multiple planets (becoming spiders, bats, flowers, and bears, just to name a few). They also take over Earth, inhabiting bodies and enforcing a purely peaceful society. People work for no money, take from stores only that which they need. Violence is a non-issue, and sicknesses of all kinds are cured.

But the central conflict is evident from the very beginning of the text. Humans don't want to be Hosts for the Souls. They have been taken over by numbers, unable to resist the take-over which leaves their bodies undamaged but their minds erased. Most of the time. Wanderer, the narrator of THE HOST, is a Soul who has lived eight lifetimes on eight different planets. She has asked to be placed in an adult human host, despite the fact that adult human hosts are volatile and sometimes unable to be conquered. Such is the case with Melanie, the body Wanderer inhabits.

To further complicate things, Melanie/Wanderer stumbles upon a human 'rebel' outpost and must fight for her life repeatedly-- first as an outsider, then as an insider.

The story is compelling, forcing the reader to consider the merits and challenges of colonization. It is also fodder for young female minds, with complicated male/female relationships and a fair amount of strained romance.

THE HOST is a great read, particularly for readers interested in science fiction and post-apocalyptic settings. And while I have heard several TWI-hards note that THE HOST is even better than the ubiquitous vampire series, I am not sure I agree. Still, THE HOST demands attention.

Naked

When I typed the title for this entry, I was reminded of the sign on a mechanic's shop in Auburn: "Sex! (Now that we've got your attention...)". But I promise my title is not a ploy.

NAKED by David Sedaris is a collection of memoirs, arranged a bit sporadically, each peppered with raw wit. I wish that I could say that it was a fabulous book. A student in Read For Yourself recommended it and insisted that I read one of Sedaris' books, so I did. Maybe it is telling that I started the book in the fall and have just closed the cover for the last time. It took me forever to read!

The beginning of the book was a great introduction to Sedaris' voice, to his humor, to his family (the center of all things for him, it seems). I was drawn in by the laughter I could hear through words printed on a page. But he lost me in the middle. While I plowed through the first three chapters, I stalled unceremoniously in the interim, coming back only at the end, when I saw the light at the end of the tunnel. Sadly, this is not a tunnel I plan to traverse again.

The writing was not particularly illuminating. He rarely shed light on issues in a way that appealed to me. And, as I write that, I think, "This book is not written for me." And I know that I am right.

That said, I did like this bit:

"My hands tend to be full enough dealing with people who hate me for who I am. Concentrate too hard on the millions who hate you for what you are and you're likely to turn into one of those unkempt, sloppy dressers who sag beneath the weight of the two hundred political buttons they wear pinned to their coats and knapsacks. I haven't got the slightest idea how to change people, but still I keep a long list of prospective candidates just in case I should ever figure it out.

I would recommend Sedaris because I know he has reached a lot of readers. He may not be the right fit for you, but I'm glad I gave him a shot.

Happy reading!

Too Long

It has truly been far too long since my last post! And, as I am sure you can imagine, I have been reading (and listening) in the interim.

On my drives to and from Massachusetts, I have listened to several (have not been counting) audio books. The ones that come to mind are "The Collectors" and "The Camel Club" by David Baldacci, a couple by Robert Parker, and a couple by James Patterson. Baldacci is my favorite, by far. He writes about interesting topics, and I love the setting. Besides that, he has some "serial" characters (the Camel Club lead by the old-but-intrepid Oliver Stone and Michelle Maxwell/Sean King). One of the things that is most troubling about good literature, to me, is that when the book is finished, so are the people we meet on the pages. It might be sappy, but when I finish a Billie Letts book, for example, I feel like I am losing friends. To have a series featuring the same dynamic and complex characters solving a continuing mystery is a treat. I think that is one of the reasons why science fiction and fantasy books are reaching a new height of popularity; people want their stories to continue. How many of use are STILL wishing for and eighth Harry Potter or a fifth Twilight? My guess: too many of us to count!

As far as novels I have picked up to read, I finished "Beach House" by Jane Green a couple weeks ago. I love Jane Green's earlier works, which feature twenty- and thirty-somethings who are struggling to balance their personal and professional lives. In a way, her characters used to represent the same or similar existential struggles, and I could relate to their tales. "Beach House", however, features more mature characters, and I think it represents a shift in Jane Green's inspiration. The central character in "Beach House" is an older woman, in her sixties, who owns a large home on Nantucket. The house is in disrepair, and she just discovers that her late husband had swindled all of their money, and she has run out. Rather than sell the home, she decides to rent out rooms. Meanwhile, Green introduces three other families, disparate (at first), but struggling with demons of their own. One family has divorced parents and a very unruly teenage daughter. Another has a husband who has just come out of the closet and whose marriage, his wife is chagrined to learn, was a total sham. As I am sure you can deduce, these people are brought together by circumstances and a collective need for simplicity and distance. Ironically, as they run from their previous lives, they find each other and start rebuilding.

Normally, I would say that when I read, I see the passages as a movie in my head. In this case, I see this entire book as a movie. The screenplay would be simple, the characters warm and familiar. The setting-- oh, my. The setting would make all movie-goers wistful. It would easily feature an ensemble cast of understated actors and draw in crowds of key demographics: house wives, gay men, and elderly women. Okay. Maybe those aren't key demographics-- but they're nothing to sneeze at!

I have started reading "Naked" by David Sedaris. He is a funny man. In addition, I am scouring "The Book Thief" to prepare for the third quarter novel unit. My mom brought home "Kingdom Keepers II", a piece of juvenile literature in which kids (whose holograms serve as tour guides at Disney World) are able to infiltrate the Magic Kingdom at night in order to protect it from the characters who come to life each night. Yeah, I know it sounds pretty juvenile, but it fulfills a need in my life to be in Disney World overnight. God, how I would love that.

Anyway, that concludes my current recap of the last two months of my reading life. I will update with more regularity, I promise. Though, at this point, I'm not sure anyone is reading this. Ah, well. Writing for writing's sake retains purpose and benefit.

Happy reading!

Stone Cold

I should also mention that I finished listening to "Stone Cold" by David Baldacci. These audiobooks, for the record, are wonderful brain candy for a person with a long commute (a couple times a week).

"Stone Cold" left me feeling like I needed a character web to follow along, but once I grew accustomed to the characters and to their relationships with one another, I was able to just relax, drive, and enjoy the story.

Happy listening!

Interpreter of Maladies

I finished the last available Jhumpa Lahiri book Wednesday. It is a short story collection titled "Interpreter of Maladies." Like her other short story collection, An Unaccustomed Earth, and her novel, The Namesake, Interpreter of Maladies focuses on the lives of Bengalis, primarily, as well as Indians. Every story centers on a single relationship: man and wife, man and landlady, impoverished old woman and her community (x2). The stories are short and well-written, in Lahiri's typical laid-back, easy style, but the storylines seemed tired and overdone. Two stories about old, unmarried women neglected by their communities? Seems a little redundant.

Unlike "An Unaccustomed Earth", which featured a variety of stories in a variety of locations, "Interpreter of Maladies" seemed to spend copious amounts of time in dirty hallways or on lonely benches. The stories lacked the spark of culture clashes, and it failed to deliver a certain amount of modernity. The stories felt old, I think.

Still, this read, though, for me, a bit banal, comparatively speaking, is a light and pleasurable read. I did not devour it voraciously, as I did the first two books, but I enjoyed it nonetheless (just over time).

On tap: I really do not know. I have a small pile of books gathering beside my bed. Perhaps I will read "And Then There Were None" by Agatha Christie. This would fulfill a promise I made to a student, and I do love a good mystery.

Happy reading!

First Family

I have also been listening to audiobooks on my drives to Massachusetts and back. I listened to First Family, a novel written by David Baldacci. The story unfolds as the President's niece is abducted and brought to a farm/mine in Alabama, the mother of one of the investigators is murdered, and the First Lady plots to hide dangerous family secrets.

The mystery unravels over twelve CDs, and, I have to say, listening to the rendition really makes a drive go more quickly. In fact, with First Family, I found myself looking forward to getting into my car, grateful for trips to the grocery store because they meant twenty more minutes of story time.

I think this goes to show that humans are never too old to be read to. Since First Family, I began my second foray into Baldacci, and I am now listening to Stone Cold. It is a little more confusing (characters abound!), but now that I am five CDs in, the story is becoming clearer.

Happy reading-- and listening!

Identical

A student recommended I read Identical, a collection of poems written by Ellen Hopkins. The story is told via poems written by identical twin sisters. Essentially, the collection functions as a modern-day epic poem, relating in poetry a story that would normally be told through basic prose. But the poetic form gives life to these girls and to the struggles they face. They are not typical teenagers. Instead, they are the daughters of a prominent politician mother and a renowned judge father. They endure the public facade erected by their parents, and they battle internally with demons no one should ever battle.

I was disturbed the entire time I read the book. Switching from one twin to the other and back, I felt, as a reader, that I was on a roller coaster with them. One minute a girl binges to swallow her pain, and the next another is purging to force it out. A boyfriend with sweet intentions contrasts several with the worst. Through it all, a father and mother neglect and abuse their children with truly reckless abandon. I cringe simply thinking about it.

In so many ways, I'm afraid this is reality (in some form) for many of my students, and that disturbs me in every imaginable way. It is the harsh reality of our world, the sick reality of some people in it, and the impossible reality for young people trying to survive.

Poetry was a powerful vessel to deliver the message. Feeling intimate and vulnerable and connected to these girls' words means living their terrifying experiences. A short story told from their first-person points-of-view would not have the same power. The vessel would not be fluid enough to represent the chaos of their lives. For this reason, I believe Identical's unique format gives it a structureless structure and allows the story to be told eloquently and viscerally, drawing the reader in even as it makes her want to turn away.

The Lost Symbol

Amazing. As I write this message, my mind swirls with the theories to which it has just been introduced. In some ways, I have met these theories before. In other ways, it is brand new and perplexing, unbelievable, the tip of a very large iceberg.

I just finished "The Lost Symbol", within the last two minutes running my eyes over the last words. I think I should process the book, but, instead, I will write about it. First, a quote:

"He thought about how every culture, in every country, in every time, had always shared one thing. We all had the Creator. We used different names, different faces, and different prayers, but God was the universal constant for man. God was the symbol we all shared... the symbol of all the mysteries of life that we could not understand. The ancients had praised God as a symbol of our limitless human potential, but that ancient symbol had been lost over time." (509)

Dan Brown is notoriously controversial. His books delve into worlds of religion, culture, history, and science. He appears to question and to "undermine" religion (Christianity, in particular) even as he illuminates the truth contained within. "The Lost Symbol" is classic Dan Brown in this way. The story is littered with the detritus of millenia of human existence and thought, riddled with symbols and obscure text, scaffolded with deft explanations and elaborate demonstrations. Though fiction, the book may be classified a hundred different ways. In part it is philosophy, considering the ancients in depth and making contemporary connections that can be ignored, but only if that ignorance is tempered with curiosity. In another part, it is historical fiction, painting detailed portraits of historic figures captured at their various appropriate points in history but coming together anachronistically in Brown's novel. In another part it is advanced science, drawing on humankind's most recent scientific and technological work and its seemingly odd marriage to religion and philosophy.

Truly, this, like all of his other work, is a masterpiece in and of itself, with the power to inspire readers to learn more, to seek information and to demand a clearer picture of humankind's history and present. The final word of the novel is "Hope", and in some (intended, I'm sure) way, Brown is leaving his audience with that single concept. At the end of a novel where the characters (angels and demons) are searching for The Last Word, this is his: Hope.

I am always astounded by how much I learn from Dan Brown's books. They are utterly entertaining, but they are the only books I read with my laptop as a constant accompaniment. His elaborate descriptions of locations and artwork and objects of public consumption inspire me to learn more, to seek a faithful visual representation. With Dan Brown, Wikipedia can be a reader's best friend, enhancing the experience of reading even as it removes the reader from the text itself. I re-read full chapters after conducting my Wiki-research, and my reading is brought to life by this necessary (for me) investigation. The reality of his work is not lost on me; at the beginning of his books, he includes a page titled "Fact:" as if anticipating disbelief. Because, in truth, the fiction he expertly weaves has nothing on the nonfiction into which it is woven. Without his disclaimer (and my previous experiences with his work, all of which left me with hours of additional research to conduct), I would not believe many of the things that are described on these pages.

But sometimes the truth, lightly veiled but astonishingly accessible, is more powerful than any imagining.

Happy reading.

Dicotomy

I am reading two very different books at the moment, one for fun, and one for work. Incidentally, the for work book is also fun.

First, I picked up "Julie and Julia" this summer because the movie looked great, but I wanted to read the memoir first. Sadly I'm afraid the movie may leave cinemas before I have a chance to finish the book. My reading has, sadly, been lax lately.

"Julie and Julia" is a great book. I'm enjoying it. The style is fine, but it does leave a little to be desired. Fortunately, Julie, the semi-titular author, has a sense of humor, and her work is honest. She finds interesting ways to explain her experiences, and the small moments of insight about Julia Child are great touchpoints. Admittedly, I know very little about Julia Child, and I know even less about the traditional French cooking she made accessible to the average person. But Julie's description of the first dish she made-- potato and leek soup-- inspired me to make it too, so the book, at the very least, has the potential to make a delicious impression.

The for work book is "The Book Thief." My freshmen are reading it this year, and I am excited to teach it. The book has great style; the writing is fresh, and the format is cool. I think for those reasons, it will be accessible to my students, and that is half the battle most days. Stirred into the style are several literary ingredients: metaphor, imagery, and TONS of personification. The book contains limitless fodder for discussion of literary technique, but I need to get my students to that point in order to make it work. With only five or six weeks to whip them into "The Book Thief" shape, I have my work cut out for me.

Regardless, both texts are comfortable reads with distinct flavor. I will be posting updates as I make my way through the pages. Stay tuned!

Happy reading!

Queen of Babble Gets Hitched

I feel a bit silly writing this review, particularly because the author of "Queen of Babble Gets Hitched" is the same author who wrote "The Princess Diaries." But I am setting aside my apprehension, and thus the review begins.

Meg Cabot is synonymous with Princess Mia and the juvenile literature dynasty of which she is the queen. But for those of us who have graduated from high school (and, well, who have graduated to characters who have graduated from high school), Cabot also spins tales of twenty- and thirty-somethings who try (and fail and succeed) to make sense of their often self-complicated lives. In "Queen of Babble" (the first in what is a three-story arc, so far), the reader meets Lizzie Nichols, a struggling twenty-something with no career prospects and (gasp) no love prospects either. Naturally, as she journeys to France for the wedding of a good friend, she finds love and stumbles upon something solid in the professional realm as well. But her path is fraught with self-inflicted obstacles, which predictably dissipate as the story reaches its inevitable conclusions.

"Queen of Babble Gets Hitched" does not veer off the predictable path either. From the title the reader assumes Lizzie Nichols will, indeed, get hitched, but the question becomes: to whom? From the first chapter, where the complication is dutifully described, the reader embarks on her predetermined, expected roller coaster ride. But if a reader picks up a Meg Cabot book, she is not looking to be surprised. She does not want to shocked, to be forced to drag her jaw up off the floor with every turn of the page. Readers of Meg Cabot want to consume literary empty calories, to turn off their critical thinking abilities, to indulge in something completely mindless and fun.

Basically, it's the perfect end-of-summer read. I look a stack of intellectual books, of craftily-created stories and insightful nonfiction, and this is what I choose. For today. Tomorrow I will exercise my brain, I promise. But today, I just enjoy.

Happy reading!

Unaccustomed Earth- The End

Jhumpa Lahiri is fabulous, and Unaccustomed Earth does not disappoint. While the first 2/3 of the book is markedly better, the last piece is also poetic in Lahiri's seemingly-signature bittersweet way.

Unaccustomed Earth is a collection of short stories, and it concludes with a slightly longer story told from two first person points-of-view and one omniscient point-of-view. From an analytical standpoint, that makes it interesting. In fact, I read on the edge of my seat, waiting to see the paths of the two narrators cross in adulthood as they do in their childhood. However, I found the meeting anticlimactic, and the use of a natural disaster to end the story felt like a cop-out. I suspect that the intensity of the event in her real life impacted Lahiri so drastically that she was moved to include it in her story, to use it as a tool, to memorialize, somehow, the event. But it read as forced after a story of utter ease.

I recently purchased Interpreter of Maladies, the collection that first brought Lahiri fame. I am excited to read it, but I am moving on to Julie & Julia first. I want to read the novel before I see the film, and I have a sense that the humor in this book will be intoxicating. I look forward to that.

Until we meet again in the blogosphere, happy reading!

Unaccustomed Earth

Jhumpa Lahiri is an incredibly talented writer. I read "The Namesake" in the spring, and that beautifully written story flowed through my brain because of the ease of Lahiri's writing. Now, reading "Unaccustomed Earth", a collection of short stories, I can confirm that her talent is no accident.

When I finish the collection, I will write more. In the meantime, pick up a copy of anything she has written. You will not regret it.

Happy reading,
Fo

Made in the U.S.A.

Billie Letts is one of my favorite writers. Her first three novels-- "Where the Heart Is", "The Honk and Holler Opening Soon", and "Shoot the Moon"-- are peopled with characters straight out of reality, facing situations which (sadly) are straight out of reality. When I read her novels, I make friends. When I finish her novels, I am sad to let go. "Made in the U.S.A." does not disappoint.

I found the novel serendipitously. Every time I'm in Barnes & Noble, browsing, I check for a new one. But this time, i was in Target, looking for a book that wasn't yet out ("Shanghai Girls"), when I saw her name in white from across the aisle. I had to have it, even without reading the synopsis on the back.

"Made in the U.S.A." tells a familiar story, on the surface: teenage girl in the mid-west falls on hard times, and the drama continues to unfold, one grisly chapter at a time, until-- finally!-- something good happens. But what Billie Letts does with plot and character carries the reader from the lowest lows to the highest highs (much rarer, interestingly), with ease and unease simultaneously.

Her language is not confounding. In fact, she writes as people generally speak: colloquially, crafting metaphors her readers can easily understand and using details they have experienced themselves. But the ease of the language belies the unease, the feeling of anxiety in the pit of a reader's stomach. Because Letts' stories are swiftly moving, but the journey is often unsettling. I found myself cringing, shaking my head, trying to stave off disappointment and disgust and reproachment all at once.

But the story continues in the way that life continues: one pitfall after another, one night following one morning following one night. And when the reader gets to the end-- to the series of jubilant verbs on page 354-- she is glad she kept turning the pages.

I love Billie Letts. I think she is the quintessential American writer of the time. For readers of all ages she offers dynamic characters, sage wisdom, and quiet solutions to gregarious problems.

Happy reading.

The Namesake

"The Namesake" is written by Jhumpa Lahiri, and I think she works literary magic crafting a tale about a single family. The parents were born in India and moved to Massachusetts. Their kids were born in the U.S. and never understood their parents' draw to Calcutta. Mixed in there are several love stories, a few heartbreaking losses, and many, many questions.

For whatever reason, I found myself, at times, empathizing with the main character. The way he views the world-- as a collection of places rich with memories, imbued with the past-- is how I see the world so often. When I go to a place, I remember the people I've been with there, the food I've eaten, the music I heard or things I experienced. Every place has a weight. Some of the weight is too heavy; some of the weight is just right. The movie theaters and classrooms and restaurants where I've shared time with people-- or spent time alone-- every place holds memories that inform my life, that let me know I have, at the very least, been around.

In the end, "The Namesake" left me a little unfulfilled. The last line does not have the power I was hoping it would have. But it does sort of remind me that life goes on-- that this story persists beyond the last page for the characters Lahiri so carefully constructed. And, so, I'm mostly okay with it. It's a story that feels real, a story that has been lived by millions of Indians (and immigrants) since our country was not our country. It is a story without which we do not exist as we are.

It is a story about Self, identity, family, love, place. It is a story about the known and unknown past, the wholly unknown future, and the brevity of the present. Beautifully written and hauntingly moving, "The Namesake" makes me pause, reflect, and, somehow, long for places past, present, and future.

Empire of the Soul

I just finished "Empire of the Soul" by Paul William Roberts. I am left with an impression of India that lingers at the end of every personal narrative I've read about the nation: it is teaming with life. It is gleaming, and steaming, and screaming with life. But, in the midst of this apparent chaos (wrought, perhaps, by Siva himself), two simple notions persist: love and truth.

Always in these accounts of India, the author is able to pinpoint his truth. Always in these accounts of India, the author is able to pronounce deep love-- a love of the people, a love for the people. I am always left feeling like the author at the beginning of his tale: someone seeking something she can not yet define but with an inclination that it must lie in India.

"Empire of the Soul", unlike "Shantaram", is a work of complete nonfiction. Paul William Roberts visited India several times, in both the 1970s and the 1990s. He writes at times as a philosopher, as an historian, and as an outsider seeking that which lies within. He provides accounts from all over India: from Bombay to Tiruvannamalai, from Goa to Calcutta. He introduces the reader to the people he met, to the places he explored, to the obstacles he faced and usually overcame. He questions his own motives and those of the people around him, particularly Westerners apparently on their own quests. He visits holy men in his near-constant plight to understand religion for himself.

Over the course of the travelogue, the reader becomes accustomed to India. She climbs onto a camel, sees the sadhu standing on one leg for thirty years, speaks with Mother Theresa. Roberts gives his reader an almost scientific explanation of his experiences, but his lucid writing never confounds.

For those interested in India (and who crave a history lesson without a weighty textbook), Paul William Roberts has crafted a fantastic read.

Quotes from "Empire of the Soul":

The city had moved on, but the temple remained. In India, the past refuses to die, undisturbed by new realities... indifferent to God and man. (221)

Mighty opposites rule this world. In this clash of opposites, Calcutta is the most truthful city on earth, exposing all the wounds, the scars, the festering sores, the realities we in the West hide away as if they did not exist. (244)

I had never really doubted the wisdom I'd come to find and had found here I had no questions about the big issues. Even death no longer really scared me... I looked hard for what exactly did scare me. And I found it: I scared myself. Why had the wisdom my mind had absorbed so long before not moved into my heart, my body, my life? Reading a memo does not stop you starving. (326)

The reason so many wise and wonderful men and women have never ceased speaking Truth into deaf ears, I thought that dawn, is that Truth exists to bear the burden, carry the fright. It's not our problem. (350)

Life of Pi

I read "Life of Pi" this week, finally completing a book I've been told a million times that I must read.

It is an interesting book, its tone irreverent and conversational. My favorite moments were ones of humor. When Pi Patel changes his mind about Richard Parker getting onto the life boat, I laughed out loud. I also liked the vivid imagery and the philosophy Pi develops regarding animal behavior (including his own). The structure of the novel-- namely that it is a story within a story-- is not often seen, and it is done exceptionally well by Yann Martel.

I had been told the end of the book was a surprise, was, in fact, a reason to read the book. Perhaps because my expectations were so high, I was a bit let down. There was something to Pi's story that was fantastic, and I did not want that tainted by the real world. Maybe part of me wanted him to remain on the boat with R.P. Or for there to be some intricately tied ending (after all, Pi reveres endings). But the end did not satisfy me. Still, I am glad I read it, and it was an enjoyable read.

I am starting "Empire of the Soul" by Paul William Roberts-- another book about India. This is a travelogue, essentially, and it comes very highly recommended by an Indian friend, so my expectations are high. I'll keep you posted.

Happy reading!

The Last Lecture

In addition to finishing "A Thousand Splendid Suns," I also started and finished "The Last Lecture" by Randy Pausch. For those of you who have not heard Randy's story, he was a wildly successful computer science professor at Carnegie Mellon University, and, at age forty-six (I believe), he was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer and given 3-6 months to live. "The Last Lecture" refers to his last lecture at CMU, given shortly after his diagnosis. The book ties in with the lecture itself, providing a little more background information and giving the lecture (which you can watch at thelastlecture.com) a narrative format.

Randy Pausch chose to live even as he died. He got his affairs in order, as they say, but he also made the most of every moment he had. He recorded his love for his children in words and in video of himself playing with them. He cemented his beautiful marriage. He made visible his philosophies on life, many of which occurred to him on the precipice of his death. At the heart of his philosophies is the importance of striving for and achieving childhood dreams. Perhaps more importantly, he describes the existential power in each of us to live full and realized lives.

I first found Randy Pausch this summer when a friend sent me a link to youtube videos of the actual "Last Lecture." The book is a lovely companion and a great reminder that it is never too late to dream big and to make those dreams reality.

A Thousand Splendid Suns

I was apprehensive when I began "A Thousand Splendid Suns." Sure, I hefted praise on the reviews of the book so that my Read For Yourself students would read it without complaint, but I had my own reservations. I read part of "The Kite Runner" this summer, back when I was preparing to teach in Florida. I didn't enjoy the book, and, in fact, I never finished it. Besides that experience, I had just finished "Shantaram", part of which is set in Afghanistan, and I harbored some distaste for the war depicted by the author.

But "A Thousand Splendid Suns" began compellingly and progressed quickly. The female characters are characters in conflict, battling lives that seem or are preordained by man or God. The story has a decidedly morose emotional tone with moments of calm or congeniality-- moments of happiness, as Mariam describes them as she takes her final walk. It is a story fraught with brutal violence against women and, indeed, against humanity. It is raw and strangely picturesque, in so much that the reader can vividly imagine the destruction described by Hosseini. In fact, the destruction was real and may be again; Afghanistan, like its Middle Eastern neighbors, is a country still in turmoil, religious and cultural wars persistently waged beneath (and above) the surface.

I am left longing for peace, as I close the book, its soft cover bearing lovely words about the story contained within. I am left hoping that hope and peace can reign; that violence and hatred can be obliterated; that men, women, and children can embrace the country of Afghanistan with its rich and troubled history. I am left wishing for a permanent solution so that these characters-- their real incarnations and variations thereof-- can have more moments of happiness and love.

Bagels & Books is April 7 at 7am in the LFHS library. Read this fabulous book, and join us for lively conversation.

Happy reading!

Shantaram- the end.

I just finished SHANTARAM. For those of you who've seen any of my status messages on Facebook, you know this is a long time coming. It took me over a month to finish this book, reading at regular intervals, and while I freely admit that I'm a terribly slow reader, that trait really only applies when the story is compelling enough for me to stop, fold down the corner of a page, and write or think for a while before moving on. SHANTARAM did that for me.

I'm left feeling a few things. Firstly, I am devastated at the death of one of the story's central, uplifting characters. His death was important, I guess, but it was not necessary, and I feel a bit betrayed by Gregory David Roberts for taking this man's life too soon.

Secondly, I feel a bit conflicted, and it's because at the heart of this complex story is a long list of dichotomies. Love and Hate are central, as are Guilt and Freedom. Peace and War find their places among the pages, and Truth and Shadow do too. Beauty is contrasted with Squalor and Ugliness and Impurity and, again, Hate. And a sense of God mingles with constant Godlessness. It's truly one existential and philosophic hurdle after another, and the journey upon which the narrator-- known primarily as Linbaba-- embarks is fraught with his pain. He lost his life, his family, his soul, his sense of self and his sense of right. He is a criminal with kindness and love for people. He moves from one emotion to the next, riding this internal roller coaster which manifests itself, at times, in the physical realm, allowing him to do things most people can not imagine, much less plan and implement.

In the end, he has Truth and Freedom and Friendship. In the end, he goes back to the slum that served as his home for much of the book, and he drinks chai with his Indian friends, and jokes and laughs and talks with them in Hindi and Marathi and English. In the end, he returns to the one home he has left. There, in the slum, holding the child of his dead friend, surrounded by the destitute but HOPEFUL, he finds Beauty.

When I am less foggy and more astute, I'll pepper this post with quotes, my attempt to capture some of the Beauty and Truth that touched me. For now, I'll leave you with this one:

"Looking at the people, listening to the breathing, heaving, laughing, struggling music of the slum, all around me, I remembered one of Khaderbhai's favourite phrases. Every human heartbeat, he'd said many times, is a universe of possibilities. And it seemed to me that I finally understood exactly what he'd meant. He'd been trying to tell me that every human will has the power to transform its fate." (932)

Shantaram

I have not posted for a couple of weeks, though I have certainly been reading. I am deep in the thick of "Shantaram" by Gregory David Roberts. It is a semi-autobiographical novel about a man who escapes from an Australian jail and lives in exile in India (though, at the moment, he has joined in the war in Afghanistan).

The book is packed with philosophies about freedom and friendship and hatred and love. It is completely fascinating to me (I am on an India kick at the moment), and I have become emotionally connected to the characters and the places described in almost overwhelmingly honest detail. For those of you who have seen "Slumdog Millionaire", the novel would explain some of the idiosyncrasies of Bombay (now Mumbai) culture and society.

I will write more when I finish the book. I will also share some of the quotes I found particularly thought-provoking.

Until then, happy reading! And please post with information about your most recent reads.