Not Always Happy by Kari Wagner-Peck

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51sHRGqjqXL._SX331_BO1,204,203,200_Not Always Happy

by Kari Wagner-Peck

I stopped reading memoirs about raising a child with Down syndrome awhile back mainly, I think, because they all started seeming the same. Most follow a fairly predictable trajectory: a child is born with Down syndrome, there is much grief, then acceptance, and finally celebration. It’s not that there is anything wrong with this storyline (which, if I’m honest, fits my own storyline with regard to having my own child with Down syndrome), it’s just that after a time, I had read enough of them. So when I saw mention of Not Always Happy – probably on Facebook, I can’t really remember for sure – and that it was funny, my interest was piqued.

Continue reading here.

The Heart by Maylis de Kerangal

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51Upscve4gL._SX339_BO1,204,203,200_The Heart

by Maylis Kerangal

I know, I know, it’s been forever since I’ve written a book review.  I haven’t stopped reading, it’s just the writing that’s been hard to carve out time for.  That said, I had to come and tell you about this book, because I can’t get it out of my head.

When I moved with my family up to the Pacific Northwest early this year, I started a new book club (because I can’t imagine life without a book club).  I chose The Heart as our book for August, having stumbled across a synopsis of it somewhere – I can’t even remember where.  I was intrigued because the title leads one to believe it’s a romance novel (of which I am not a fan), but the synopsis made clear that it’s as far from romance as you can get.  Or rather, it’s not the sort of romance most romance novels are about.  This is no saccharine love story about boy meets girl – no.  This is a love story of a different kind: a love story about the human heart – the actual muscle and tissue and blood version of the human heart – and its ability and sheer power to give and sustain life.

The novel opens in the early dawn hours on the shores of a beach somewhere in France as three boys, barely adults, tumble out of a van, don wetsuits, and head out to the sea with surfboards under their arms.  On their way home a couple of hours later, exhausted from surfing, the young man driving falls asleep at the wheel.  Two of the boys survive the ensuing collision, but nineteen-year-old Simon Limbres is pronounced brain-dead at the hospital, having been thrown through the windshield of the van head first upon impact with the pole.

Yet, his heart still beats.

The story takes place over a mere twenty-four hour period, which stretches out into eternity as Simon’s family is notified, and terrible decisions must be made.  Simon is dead, but his body still has the ability to give life to other people in desperate need of organ transplants.  And time is of the essence.

The Heart reads with the grace and fluidity of a ballet.  Gorgeous prose, taut and intense, every word purposeful and deliberate.  Every person in the story, from Simon himself, to his parents, to the doctors and nurses involved in the procedures that take place, is presented with his or her own story, background, thoughts, emotions, and observations, so that we understand the absolute human element in the extraordinary events that take place.  This is a beautiful, haunting story written with astonishing clarity and reverence for life, for death, and for grief.

This book is going to stay with me for a very long time.

Still Reading

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Have you ever read a book that affected you so profoundly that you just couldn’t shake it for days and days and weeks, even?  Have you ever read a book that transported you so completely that when you were done, you felt sorrow at the realization that the story wasn’t real?  Have you ever read a book whose characters you became so emotionally invested in and attached to that finishing the book felt almost like a death (and if any of those characters died before the story was over, it shook you to your core?)?

That book for me is Lonesome Dove.  I recently finished it for the third time (however, this time I listened to the audio version, which wasn’t quite as good as reading it myself), and immediately after finishing it, I spent the next several days watching the 1989 miniseries.  Although the miniseries left quite a bit of the book out, and changed numerous things, it’s still, in my view, one of the best miniseries ever made, and one of the best film adaptations of a book ever produced.  I fell in love with Robert Duvall as Gus McCrae, and watching him in this movie still makes me weak in the knees, and his death still leaves me ugly crying.

So, although it’s been two months since I last wrote here, I have still been reading (or listening, as the case may be), but writing has gone on the back burner because, well, life.  I hope to come back here and share my thoughts about a couple of other books soon.

In the meantime, tell me what books you’ve read that have affected you deeply.

The Trespasser by Tana French

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The Trespasser

by Tana French

In this latest installment by Tana French, Det. Antoinette Conway and her partner, Det. Stephen Moran of the Dublin Murder Squad take center stage.  Handed what on its surface appears to be a textbook domestic abuse-turned-murder case to deal with, Det. Conway and Det. Moran quickly realize that all is not as it appears.  Battling sexism in the squad adds to the complexity of trying to solve a murder case.  Gathering evidence and interviewing parties with different connections to the murder victim lead Conway and Moran on what ends up being a wild goose chase – possibly intentionally.  In the end, who killed Aislinn Murray and why threatens to blow the Dublin Murder Squad apart.

I’ve been a devoted reader of Tana French since her first novel, In the Woods, was published a few years back.  Some of her novels I’ve liked more than others (the above-mentioned In the Woods, as well as The Likeness and Faithful Place, stand out).  The Trespasser is a superb whodunnit, but I was put off by Det. Antoinette Conway’s character.  She’s written as a little too tough-as-nails to be believable or likable.  While I appreciate French’s representation of sexism in the workplace, Conway feels like a bit of an overcompensation – an over-the-top cisgender, heterosexual anti-female.  I was also put off by Conway’s use of “retard” and “fucktard” in the story.  Come on, Ms. French.  Do we really have to continue to use slurs against marginalized people in an effort to be edgy?

Worth reading if you like police procedurals/murder mysteries, but with caveats.

Did You Ever Have a Family by Bill Clegg

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Did You Ever Have a Family

by Bill Clegg

I heard about this book when it was first released last year, but put off buying it because I knew that the premise was a tragedy.  I’ve recently started a new book club in my new neighborhood, though, and decided to choose this book as our first book.

The premise of Did You Ever Have a Family is indeed a tragedy: a catastrophic house fire kills four people the night before a wedding.  The victims are the bride-to-be and her fiance, her father, and her mother’s boyfriend.  June, the bride’s mother, is the only survivor.  After the funerals, June flees without a word to anyone, setting out on a cross-country trip in an effort to outrun her grief.  She ends up on the opposite coast, holed up in a little seaside motel that her deceased daughter once stayed at.

In the wake of the horrors of the house fire, the stories of numerous other people emerge – June’s boyfriend’s mother, the florist who was supposed to provide the wedding flowers, Silas, a local teen who can only be described as a hoodlum, the couple who own the motel at which June takes refuge, and various other people whose lives intersect in various ways.

Ultimately, this is a story about family, but also about profound loss and grief, and the formidable effort of surviving all of those things.

I appreciated this story, but it wasn’t the tear-jerker I thought it would be.  I found it difficult to connect with any of the characters.  I wanted to feel sympathy for June, the main character, but she’s somewhat of an enigma, a little cold and a little distant, which made it hard for me to feel much for her.

Still, it’s a well-written, nuanced story that I wouldn’t discourage anyone from reading.

All the Light We Cannot See by Anthony Doerr

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All the Light We Cannot See

by Anthony Doerr

Truth be told, I only read this book because I saw somewhere that President Obama had it on his summer reading list last year.  Although I was aware of the book before discovering that fact, I probably wouldn’t have picked it up otherwise, only because I’ve read so many books set during WWII that they don’t especially appeal to me at this point.  I’m glad I decided to read this one.

The story centers around a young blind girl named Marie-Laure who lives with her devoted father, a locksmith for the Museum of Natural History in Paris.  When Marie-Laure, motherless, loses her sight at a young age, her father goes to great lengths to ensure his daughter’s ability to navigate her world, spending years painstakingly crafting a miniature wooden replica of their neighborhood so that Marie-Laure could memorize its characteristics by touch and translate that to an understanding of the life-size reality of the landscape.

When France is invaded by Germany, Marie-Laure and her father flee to a seaside village and take refuge in the house of an eccentric and reclusive uncle.  The uncle, suffering all these years from PTSD from fighting in WWI, has not left his house in twenty years.  In this tall house in Saint-Malo, Marie-Laure’s father again undertakes the building of a model of the village in order that his daughter may be able to navigate it if the need arises.  Soon, Marie-Laure’s father leaves her with her uncle when he is summoned back to the museum, ostensibly to return a highly prized, rare, and valuable gemstone that he spirited out of Paris when the city was invaded.

Running parallel to Marie-Laure’s story is Werner Pfennig’s, a young German orphan boy with an affinity and aptitude for radios, which eventually earns him the attention of influential Nazis.  As a teen, rather than being sent to work in the coal mines like so many of his peers, Werner is sent to a prestigious boarding school for boys, which is his induction into the Hitler Youth.  Werner struggles continually with what he witnesses and takes part in, both willingly and by force.

Eventually, Marie-Laure’s and Werner’s stories collide in a way that is unexpected.

I began this story feeling a little ho-hum about it, but was quickly taken in.  It’s beautifully told, and full of characters and settings so vivid that I felt as if I were a bystander, watching it all unfold.  Weeks after finishing this book, I am still pondering it.

The Girl Who Loved Dorothy the Most by Andrew Scott Turner

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51EFnmcrWeL._SY400_The Girl Who Loved Dorothy the Most

by Andrew Scott Turner

I will confess, first that I “know” Andrew Turner – at least on Facebook.  I don’t even remember how we connected, but for a couple of years now I’ve been continually moved by what he writes, both on Facebook and on his blog, Six Theories.

I will also confess that I’m not a huge fan of poetry.  I can appreciate the artistry of it, but it’s not typically a genre I’m drawn to.

So, what did I think of a collection of poems written by a guy whose writing I love?  In a word (or three): I loved it.

Deeply personal and contemplative, Andrew Turner taps into his own experiences and observations, and puts them into words that resonate with the human condition.  The sparse prose of this gorgeous little book touches on grief and longing, love, hope, and melancholy.  What comes through most of all is his devotion to his family.  This man has a way with words.

I hope he writes more, because I’ll read anything he writes.

News of the World by Paulette Jiles

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51pfzg0xtsl-_sx367_bo1204203200_News of the World

by Paulette Jiles

Whew!  I’m finishing up January with my seventh book read.  I’m on a roll!

News of the World tells the story of Captain Jefferson Kidd, a veteran of the Civil War.  Captain Kidd is somewhat of a loner, a grouchy old widower who is still plagued by memories of war, who prefers solitude to the company of people.  However, to make a living, he travels from town to town reading from newspapers to paying audiences.

During his travels, he crosses paths with a representative of the U.S. army who has in his custody a ten-year-old white girl recently recovered from the Kiowa Indian band that killed her family and captured her.  Captain Kidd is offered $50 to take the girl and return her to her relatives in Texas, an offer he grudgingly accepts.

Young Johanna has been so completely assimilated into her Kiowa family that she believes herself to be Kiowa.  She has forgotten her biological family, her native language, and all of the white people customs she was ripped away from as a young child.

Over their 400-mile trek to Texas, Joanna gradually learns to trust Captain Kidd, whom she begins to address as “Grandfather” in Kiowa.  For his part, Captain Kidd grows attached to and protective of this wild orphan girl.

When Johanna is finally reunited with her aunt and uncle in Texas, she is bewildered at being left by Captain Kidd, and her aunt and uncle are not exactly thrilled to have her thrust upon them.  With many reservations, Captain Kidd does leave Johanna with them; what choice does he have?  He was paid to carry out a task, and the duty must be fulfilled.  Besides, the cold, stern German couple are Johanna’s next of kin.

What follows, you will have to read the book and find out for yourself.

I really enjoyed this novel.  By turns tender and harrowing, it’s a fascinating portrait of a child captured by Indians who became completely assimilated into the tribe and forever considered herself Indian.

The Storied Life of A.J. Fikry by Gabrielle Zevin

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1jlegv-so-9The Storied Life of A.J. Fikry

by Gabrielle Zevin

A.J. Fikry is trying to drink himself to death – or at least drink himself comfortably numb.  His beloved wife died in a car accident not too long ago, and the bookstore they opened together in a small east coast island town is failing.  When things seem like they can’t possibly get any worse, an extremely rare and valuable collection of poems by Edgar Allen Poe that served as A.J.’s nest egg is stolen.

Soon after, A.J. makes a strange and wholly unexpected discovery: a baby has been left in his bookstore.  Accompanying the two-year-old girl, Maya, is a diaper bag and a note from her mother imploring A.J. to care for her, as she is unable to care for the babe any longer.  A.J. knows nothing about babies, nor is he particularly fond of babies or children, or even people for that matter (he’s kind of an asshole, but we forgive him because who wouldn’t be an asshole having been through what he’s been through?).  A search for the child’s mother is undertaken, but it’s short-lived, as she is soon found dead of an apparent suicide.  When it is time to turn Maya over to the authorities so that she can enter the foster system, A.J. can’t bring himself to turn her loose; he has quickly become attached and feels responsible for the girl.

As you would imagine, A.J.’s life begins to turn around when Maya enters his life, and what ensues is the sweet evolution of a deep father-daughter bond.  A.J. also pursues Amy, a sales rep for a small publishing company who once arrived at the bookstore, before Maya’s appearance, to pitch the winter book releases to him and was insulted and driven out by a rude and curmudgeonly A.J. in short order.

The Storied Life of A.J. Fikry is a very enjoyable book about loss, starting over, and the love of books.  I think it tries to be profound at times but doesn’t quite get there, but all in all a good read.

All My Puny Sorrows by Miriam Toews

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18339630All My Puny Sorrows

by Miriam Toews

This is a story about suicide.  It’s about other things, too: family, growing up Mennonite, resilience, grief, and friendship – but mainly, it’s about suicide.

Told in first person, Yolandi, or Yoli for short, tells about growing up in a cloistered Mennonite community in Canada with her parents and her sister, Elfrieda, or Elf as she is known by her loved ones. Elf is a piano prodigy, and at seventeen leaves home to study piano abroad, where she soon becomes a world-renowned classical pianist.  As the years go by, she also becomes more and more tortured.  Numerous suicide attempts ensue, and we find out at some point in the story that Yoli and Elf’s father committed suicide by kneeling in the path of an oncoming train (this incident is taken straight out of the author’s real life; her father actually did commit suicide in that manner, which she wrote about in her memoir, Swing Low: A Life, which I have not read).

Much of the story takes place in the psych ward of the hospital in which Elf ends up after her various suicide attempts.  There, Yoli keeps a devoted vigil over her beloved sister, willing her to want to live.  But alas, Elf is determined to die.  Now in her late forties, she is weary of life.  The story takes a turn when Elf begs Yoli to help her die.  At first, Yoli is predictably horrified by the idea, but gradually she begins to wonder if it wouldn’t in fact be an act of love to help her sister gain the peaceful oblivion she so desperately wants.

While all of this is going on, there are other family dramas taking place.  Yoli is in the middle of a divorce, she’s sleeping around a bit to comfort herself, her teenage daughter is giving her a run for her money, Elf’s husband needs propping up, Elf and Yoli’s aging mother and their aunt are suffering health problems – and, oh yeah, we find out that a cousin also committed suicide a number of years back.

The story is told with a fair amount of humor, but it still feels pretty heavy.  I wanted very much to feel like I could root for Elf’s autonomy and her right to die with dignity, and I applaud Miriam Toews for tackling such a taboo.  However, I couldn’t shake a feeling of anger at Elf’s selfishness.

It’s not that I think suicide is necessarily a selfish act.  I understand that it’s complicated, and that mental illness is often complicated.  I do believe in a person’s right to autonomy over his or her own life and right to die, but what makes this story difficult is the profound pain Elf causes her family by her numerous half-assed – maybe that’s a bit harsh; let’s say unsuccessful – attempts to end her life.  I kept thinking that if someone truly, truly wanted to end their life, they would find a method by which to carry it out that would be quick and effective.  More than that, though, is how Elfrieda drags Yoli into it by imploring her to help her kill herself.  She doesn’t want to die alone, so she places this immense burden on her sister by making her feel tormented by guilt and a sense of duty to end her sister’s suffering.

Toews delivers a well-written story about a difficult topic, but in the end, it’s not a story I cared for.