fiftytwo

Book Twentyone: Not Becoming My Mother

2009-06-30T22:00:00.000-07:00

Not Becoming My Mother, Ruth Reichl

I feel torn about this book. I generally love Ruth Reichl and feel she can do no wrong. And while this book isn't actually wrong, it also isn't the most right thing I've ever read, either.

The problem is partly that it's just too short. It's about 110 pages, and each page in this small book is the equivalent of about one paragraph in a regular book (e.g. small size, large type and gigantic margins). And this seemed to shortchange Ruth's mother's life a bit. I just kept thinking, "Shouldn't there be more here? Shouldn't this interesting woman's life require more pages and thought than this?" And while there are certainly some touching moments, some of it also seemed too pat. And--I really, really hate to use this word in relation to anything Ruth Reichl--dare I say, trite? The last few paragraphs almost read like a sixth grader's essay on What My Parents Taught Me.

Oh god, I feel horrible not loving this book. So bad I just have to stop now before I make it worse.

Book Twenty: Anne of Green Gables

2009-06-28T12:16:00.001-07:00

Anne of Green Gables, L.M. Montgomery

Can you believe I never read this book as a little girl?! Seriously, what kind of little girl was I? I now feel, after having finished this at the age of 34, that I must have been much less a girl and, hence, a woman for not having read this until now.

I finished it yesterday morning, sitting in Blackbird Bakery on Bainbridge Island, drinking coffee and wiping away tears. Every few sentences near the end up the book had me choked up and misty eyed. I want to quote endlessly from the book, just to show any of you few people out there who have never read this, how beautiful and perfect in every way this book is. But I will select just a few of my favorite bits.

Here's a moment after Marilla has chastised Anne for something or other, and Anne has proclaimed that she is improving all the time, and will surely soon be more practical and less daydreamy and romantic.

But Matthew, who had been sitting mutely in his corner, laid a hand on Anne's shoulder when Marilla had gone out.

"Don't give up all your romance, Anne," he whispered shyly, "a little of it is a good thing - not too much, of course - but keep a little of it, Anne, keep a little of it.

Or how about the moment that Anne and Diana have returned home to Avonlea from their visit to the Exhibition and to stay with Miss Barry in town?

"Oh, but it's good to be alive and to be going home," breathed Anne.

Or, after the concert where Anne does her recitation, and her friends are all exclaiming over the rich women with their diamonds and jewels and envying their wealth, and Jane says:

"Wouldn't you just love to be rich, girls?"

"We are rich," said Anne staunchly. "Why, we have sixteen years to our credit, and we're happy as queens, and we've all got imaginations, more or less. Look at that sea, girls - all silver and shallow and vision of things not seen. We couldn't enjoy its loveliness any more if we had millions of dollars and ropes of diamonds. You wouldn't change into any of those women if you could."

Or all the little things that Anne says, that are so simple and yet so right.

"Dear old world," she murmured, "you are very lovely, and I am very glad to be alive in you."

I honestly do feel like I have found a kindred spirit in Anne, and I can only hope that she would have found me to be a kindred spirit, too.

Book Nineteen: While I Was Gone

2009-06-23T21:44:00.000-07:00

While I Was Gone, Sue Miller

This is one of those books that leaves you with a weird, unsettled feeling inside. I think part of that is due to the calm, lovely little world that Sue Miller sets up at the beginning. The normal, everyday life of our protagonist is almost peaceful. And so, because I knew that something was supposed to happen in this book, I had this little knot in my stomach whenever I picked it up--like something bad is about to happen now. My imagination was a bit worse than the reality of the story, and yet I still feel a little ooky inside.

I quite enjoyed the book and its characters and events. I liked Jo, I liked her family and her husband and the group of friends from her past. And I also quite like Sue Miller's writing. It's beautiful and description without being florid, and knowing without being obnoxious.

Book Eighteen: Then We Came to the End

2009-06-12T20:45:00.000-07:00

Then We Came to the End, Joshua Ferris

Love love love love love this book. It is one of the rare books that made me laugh. Out loud. While reading it alone. Sure, you may have heard that it uses the "gimmick" of being in the first person plural (i.e. We), but I didn't find it at all gimmicky. In fact, once you read it you will realize that it could have been written no other way. And on top of being funny, it's incredibly sweet. And human.

All the characters in this office where the novel takes place, an advertising agency in the early aughts, are at once horrible and irritating and recognizable as that one guy you worked with at that job a few years ago, and yet i loved every single one of them. Perhaps I've been feeling charitable and good about humanity lately, but still. I wanted to embrace them all, take them in and tell them that it will all be alright.

Oh, and the ending! Such an ending!

Book Seventeen: Mistress of the Art of Death

2009-05-31T22:55:00.000-07:00

Mistress of the Art of Death, Ariana Franklin

I really had a hard time getting through this book. I did like it, I honestly did. But the beginning really dragged along for a while. Too much medieval talk that was a bit sludgy. The plot is essentially a female CSI-type in 12th century England, solving the "case of the dead children" at the behest of King Henry II. I enjoyed reading about a "strong female" character in the olden days, but at times it felt like a bit too much. For all the complaining, though, it's not really that bad, and a nice little mystery, too. Throw in some bodice ripping stuff, and it was generally an entertaining thing to be reading for the past three weeks.

Book Sixteen: The Last Picture Show

2009-05-12T23:17:00.000-07:00

The Last Picture Show, Larry McMurtry

The most interesting thing about this book was our book club discussion about it. I have a feeling everyone really liked it, but there was such a wide variety of takes on the story and the characters. Some loved the characters, some hated them, some thought they were stupid, some admired them. I, being the moderate lady that I am, fell somewhere in the middle. I found it undeniable that this is a real downer of a book, but there was such a mix of good and bad in everyone (we're all human, right?) that it was compelling and fascinating and ultimately, a downright amazing book.

I know I've seen the movie--and even less than five years ago--but I have no recollection of it at all. Even while reading the book I would have flashes of familiarity, and yet I couldn't place anything that happened at all. I'd like to rewatch it, because I can't imagine how the movie can do such a good job as the book at getting inside everyone's head. The book is remarkable in that one sentence to the next you are seeing flashes of each character's motivation and then jumping to the next character. That seems impossible with film, no?

Oh god, and don't even get me started on the all the sex! Holy cow! (Pun 100% intended.)

On a completely unrelated note...

2009-05-11T16:46:00.000-07:00

... I am keeping a new blog over here. It's a place for me to ramble on about all the things I love in the world. Trust me, there's a lot. So if, in addition to reading my pithy comments about books, you also care about what I think about baking, gardening, quilting, eating, and other sweet things, then swing on by!

Book Fifteen: Kick Me

2009-05-09T12:12:00.000-07:00

Kick Me: Adventures in Adolescence, Paul Feig

Oh, poor poor Paul Feig. If even 50% of what he says about his childhood is true, it must have been 100% torture. And if you were a fan of "Freaks and Geeks", you probably have some idea of what this book is like (imagine Paul Feig as Sam Weir). Seriously, you need to take a deep breath and brace yourself before reading the chapter "The Gym Class Archipelago, Part I: The Worst Game in the World." And, if you're astute, you'll be even more horrified when you realize that there's going to be a Part II. And it gets even worse. But you'll love it, I swear!

Book Fourteen: Pride and Prejudice and Zombies

2009-05-05T21:21:00.000-07:00

Pride and Prejudice and Zombies, Jane Austen and Seth Grahame-Smith

Ok, seriously. Best title ever. Best cover ever. Best opening line ever ("It is a truth universally acknowledged that a zombie in possession of brains must be in want of more brains.") Best author bios ("Jane Austen is the author of Sense and Sensibility, Persuasion, Mansfield Park, and other masterpieces of English literature. Seth Grahame-Smith once took a class in English literature.") I had been anticipating this book for quite a while, as I'm sure all the other Jane Austen and zombie lovers out there were, waiting for the two to come together at last, as they inevitably should.

But here's the deal. You don't need me to tell you that this isn't the best book you'll ever read. It starts out hilarious, and then as you get past the initial joke, it becomes just a little less funny. That's okay, though, I'm not too bothered by that. I was happy for something funny and silly and a place to get another Jane Austen fix. And a zombie fix. At the same time.

Book Thirteen: Intuition

2009-04-25T19:03:00.000-07:00

Intuition, Allegra Goodman

What a beautiful book. Essentially, it takes the world of science, which I (and perhaps most people) assume is iron-clad in its reliability and objectivity, and sets that against a sea of characters who are not at all reliable or objective. I love the set up: a postdoc at a struggling Cambridge lab working on cancer research suddenly happens upon amazing results, which conveniently occur just when he is being recognized for his failures. His girlfriend and fellow postdoc, who may be jealous of his new-found success, starts to suspect that his results may be fraudulent. The two directors of the lab get caught up in the accusations and things snowball from there, more or less.

What I love are the many characters that come in and out, including the other postdocs, lab techs and employees of the lab, family members of the lab directors, and other scientists. The book constantly changes perspective, so we're getting glimpses of each character and small insights into their motivations and feelings, all of which are heartbreakingly human. It was hard for me not to overlay this book and these characters onto my own life, both professional and personal, and not alternately side with one character or identify with another. I won't say which characters made me cry out inside, "That's me! That's me!" for fear of revealing too much about myself, but let's just say I fully recognized both the good and bad things about myself in these people. While this is an amazing book about science and the politics of the scientific world, I think it's more about people and how people are only, at their best, merely human.

Book Twelve: The Jungle Book

2009-04-18T23:16:00.000-07:00

The Jungle Book, Rudyard Kipling

Another Puffin Classic, another lovely little book meant for kids, perhaps, but perfectly enjoyable by adults. Little known fact: The Jungle Book was the first play I was ever in as a kid. I was a monkey. It's quite difficult to read this book and not hear the Disney music playing in your head. And because I am tired and uninspired, that's all I have to say about it at the moment.

Book Eleven: My Custom Van

2009-04-10T21:25:00.000-07:00

My Custom Van: And 50 Other Mind-Blowing Essays that Will Blow Your Mind All Over Your Face, Michael Ian Black

Super funny, stupid silliness. Or maybe silly stupidness. Just the kind of book I needed to read right now. You might know Michael Ian Black from his stand-up comedy, "Stella", "The State", Wet Hot American Summer or, one of my favorite movies, The Baxter. Standout essays included "What I Would Be Thinking If I Were Billy Joel Driving to a Holiday Party Where I Knew There Was Going to Be a Piano," "Hey, David Sedaris--Why Don't You Just Go Ahead and Suck It?" "Vampires--Good for the Economy?" "Using the Socratic Method to Determine What It Would Take for Me to Voluntarily Eat Dog Shit for the Rest of My Life," "A Series of Letters to the First Girl I Ever Fingered," "Testing the Infinite Monkey Probability Theorem," and "Lewis Black Hates Candy Corn: A Rebuttal."

T'wasome!

Book Ten: The Pilgrim Hawk

2009-04-01T13:54:00.000-07:00

The Pilgrim Hawk: A Love Story, Glenway Wescott

There's an interesting phenomenon with prose. The shorter the prose, the more precious the words. Example, a 1,000-page biography of Mao: I don't really care what words you use, just tell me the damn story. On the other end of the spectrum is poetry: super precious, especially when reading aloud, you must. Punctuate. Each. Word. With. Emphasis. Haikus: ultimate in preciousness, you must meditate on each word for several days and even then maybe you don't get all the meanings.

And that is why it felt like I read this little novella two or three times, just by going back and rereading sections, paragraphs, lines. Mr. Glenway Wescott must be telling me something important in here, right? I mean, look at the title. If it was just The Pilgrim Hawk that would be one thing. But followed by A Love Story? Once you read the book, you will know exactly how loaded those three words really are. Love? Between Mrs. Cullen and her husband? Between Mrs. Cullen and her falcon? Between the narrator and Alex? Between the reader and narrator? And the falcon? All of the above? Reading this book felt like being in a kind of trance. There's nothing terribly fascinating or weird about the telling of the story, but it pulls you into this strange little world of characters and it's hard to pull yourself out.

I loved it.

Book Nine: The 19th Wife

2009-03-30T19:59:00.000-07:00

The 19th Wife, David Ebershoff

What are the chances of reading two Wife books in a row? Also on my reading pile is The Zookeeper's Wife, and I wish I could say that The Time Traveler's Wife was also there, but I'd be lying. But really, if you are as obsessed with Mormons as I am, you will find this very, very interesting. It's half modern-day polygamist murder mystery, half pretending-to-be-non-fiction "biography" of Ann Eliza Young, Brigham Young's 19th wife who became a vocal opponent to polygamy and helped bring about it's downfall: these two stories bounce back and forth throughout the novel. I don't want to say any more than that about the plot (and really, when do I ever?), but honestly, this book rules. It almost falls apart at the end with a somewhat too tidy finale, but the rest of the book more than made up for that.

Book Eight: American Wife

2009-03-25T15:17:00.000-07:00

American Wife, Curtis Sittenfeld

I love the idea behind this book: a completely fictionalized novel based on the life of Laura Bush. And Curtis Sittenfeld is such a brilliant writer, that everything about this worked. At one point I thought, "Oh shit, I am actually kind of liking the character of George Bush. Crap." And the book has an amazing punch line of an ending. It's worth it to read for more than that reason, though. Just the way she strings words together is lovely and more than enough reason to spend 500+ pages on the thoughts of a fictional first lady.

Book Seven: Watership Down

2009-03-14T21:27:00.000-07:00

Watership Down, Richard Adams

I hereby re-dub this book Watership Downer.

My recommendation to you is to not read this book after a good friend passes away. You will probably be too preoccupied with the futility of life to appreciate this book, and will want to tell these little rabbits to just give it up already, you're just going to die, what's it all worth, anyhow? You will want to read the book, but will be so sad that when you pick up the book you will just put it down again. You will love this book, but will wish you had chosen a better, happier time to choose to read it. And even when you reach the end of the book, after you feel like you've processed everything and are starting to feel better, reading the last two pages will hit you in a way you didn't know was possible and will make you sob like a baby.

I hate to be so grim, but this was tough for me. It is probably both a good and a bad thing that Watership Down will always remind me of my friend Rickey.

Book Six: The Secret Life of Bees

2009-02-14T12:33:00.000-08:00

The Secret Life of Bees, Sue Monk Kidd

I'm going to say right off the bat that my least favorite movie of all time is Forrest Gump. I hate this movie with a passion. I hate feeling emotionally manipulated, I hate trite catch phrases (think "box of chocolates"), and I hate playing off American sentimentality by glorifying the South. One of my least favorite books, you may be wondering, is The Prince of Tides. So you can imagine that I approached this book with an ookie feeling inside. I would never have chosen this book; it was picked for book club. I'm going to be honest and say that I liked it more than I thought I would. If Sue Monk Kidd can create a house and a life that I could clearly imagine and want to be a part of, then she did part of her job as a writer. She beautifully captures the beekeeping and the crazy pink house and the weather and the food and the atmosphere.

But I think the other part of being a writer is not relying on cliches and tidy story lines to tell your story. And the characters! I hate to say it, but I felt like there was a tiny bit of the magical negro going on here. It all just seemed too perfect. This group of Mary-worshipping black women, led by the beekeeping August, who all seem to have been plunked down in that pink house for the sole purpose of helping Lily discover who she is by learning about her mother. Sure, you can argue that they were strong and independent black women, yet without Lily (the young white girl) what are they really? What's their story? You get a glimpse of it, and yet it is absolutely secondary to Lily and her story and her needs, and that, honestly, makes me really uncomfortable.

Book Five: King Leopold's Ghost

2009-02-10T23:52:00.000-08:00

King Leopold's Ghost, Adam Hochschild

This is one of those good for you books. The literary equivalent of broccoli. Oh wait, I love broccoli! Perhaps it's more like steamed liver covered in raisins and radicchio? Because that sounds like torture to me. Though honestly this book wasn't torture, just more of a moderately pleasant slog, at the end of which I thought, "Boy, I'm a better person for having read this book." And now I can't believe I'm bringing this truly great yet nearly soul crushing story down to the level of foods I kind of dislike. Boy, am I a jerk!

Really, though, if you know nothing of the atrocities that occurred under King Leopold's rule over his colony the Belgian Congo, then this will open your eyes. It's almost numbing after a while; after you hear about the thousandth hand cut off and the thousandth baby thrown in a ditch and the millionth native worked to death or shot outright or whipped or... gah! Anything! But the book is structured around a hero, of sorts, Edmund Morel, who became clued in to what was really going on in the Congo by observing goods coming into Belgium and those going out, and realized that there was no way there could be such a disparity without slavery taking place. He worked for many, many years to bring this to the attention of Europe and the rest of the world along with some really amazing people. Yes, they probably all weren't perfect, and yes, they all had some shortcomings, but it helps to know about those small figures in history who took a stand against something so monumental.

Book Four: Treasure Island

2009-02-01T22:34:00.000-08:00

Treasure Island, Robert Louis Stevenson

I can't remember the last time a read a book this freaking good! It's got it all, and I ate it up, holus bolus! You know, yo ho ho and a bottle of rum, shiver my timbers, buried treasure, Long John Silver and his one leg, and the parrot, Captain Flint, shrieking "Pieces of eight! Pieces of eight!" Scary! Oh, and the best hero and narrator ever: young Jim Hawkins, who made me want to be a little boy who finds himself on the Hispaniola... even in the apple barrel listening in on that fateful conversation with Long John Silver!

And I'm going to keep plugging these Puffin Classics editions because I think they are beyond adorable. I know they're meant for little kids but I absolutely love them. They're wider than mass-market paperbacks, but still small enough to be portable. And they've got some really nice author bios in the back, along with activities and a glossary and more.

Book Three: Fangland

2009-01-23T12:19:00.000-08:00

Fangland, John Marks

This book started out with all the potential in the world. Evangeline Harker, an associate producer for a 60 Minutes-type show, travels to Romania, and then goes deep into the mountains of Transylvania, to suss out a potential interview subject who is an elusive, yet notorious, Eastern European criminal. The first half of the book, told mostly from the perspective of Evangeline, is one of the creepiest things I've ever read. After the crime boss, Ion Torgu, takes her back to his "hotel" in the mountains, it becomes so scary I couldn't bear to be alone in the dark the last few days. But then... well, then we go back to New York City to the offices of The Hour, where some mysterious video tapes have arrived and things start to go all wonky, the staff either start dying or start looking like the living dead, and everyone is hearing "voices" that seem to be whispering something truly evil that no one can escape.

For me things really started to fall apart here. All of the tension from the first half dissipates, and then the most insane ending comes! If anyone who has read this book can explain the ending to me I would be most grateful. I mean, I get most of the general themes, and I appreciate them to a certain extent and think they could have made for a really interesting vampire book, but then... It's like John Marks (who, incidentally used to be a producer at 60 Minutes) throws a bunch of shit out there (including the entire history of death and torture and murder, September 11th, Dracula and vampires [though those names are mentioned only once or twice], technology, the media, feminine power over men), and then tells me, the reader, that it's my job to make any kind of sense of it. I don't mind using my noggin when I read, but I'd like at least some semblance of cohesion from my books.

To be fair, I haven't actually ever read Dracula, which this book apparently heavily borrows from and/or references. I wonder if that would make it make sense? It's on my list of books to read this year, and let's hope it's a better read than Fangland.

Book Two: The Fountain Overflows

2009-01-17T19:40:00.000-08:00

The Fountain Overflows, Rebecca West

I could choose any page from this book, open it at random, and write it here and that anything would be one of the best things I have ever seen written. However, this is my most favorite passage in the whole book. When I first read it, I went back and read it five or six more times, just to relive the moment, and I've gone back to it several times since then.

We never had a better Christmas, up till four o'clock. We woke up quite late, of course, because we had been so long in going to sleep, and found the stockings at the ends of our beds. But before we could see what Papa and Mamma had put in them, Richard Quin staggered in, holding in front of him the big stocking Mamma had lent him because his socks were too small to hold anything. He could not bear to look into it for fear of his own delight. He asked hoarsely, "Would there be soldiers, do you think?" He always wanted tin soldiers, for Christmas and birthdays, and whenever anybody gave him any money to spend. We told him there certainly would. But he could not bear to deal with the stocking, he was all to pieces at the prospect of exquisite pleasure piling on exquisite pleasure, all day long. We urged him to be a man and start taking out his presents, but he sat down on Mary's bed and rocked himself and gasped, his eyes glazed. "And there are better presents downstairs, aren't there?"

We told him that there would be in the sitting, room, where the Christmas tree was, the same as there had been last year in Edinburgh.

"Then why," he panted, "don't we go downstairs and get those in case anything happens to them and then hurry back to these?"

"Why should we do that?" asked Mary, cuddling him to her. "There's all the time in the world." It was a phrase that my mother often used when we hurried a bar.

His face grew piteous and he cried, "There's not, there's not."

Mary hugged him close and they rocked together, tic-toc, tic-toc, while she sang, "There's all the time in the world," and he sang back, "There's not, there's not, there's not," his downy face easing into unmalicious mischief, his grey eyes sending coquettish glances under his black lashes at his three sisters.

Cordelia and I went and knelt before him, and she kissed his left foot and I kissed the right, while Mary went on singing, "There's all the time in the world," and he sang back, "There's not, there's not," bubbles of laughter forming on his lips, which were a pale but very bright pink. We all wished the moment could last forever.

I had never heard of this book before, though I'm aware it's well known. It was another NYRB Classic that I found on the shelves of the bookstore, and couldn't resist the review on the back cover that called it "a real Dickensian Christmas pudding of a book." Of course, it's not all Christmas, though we do get a few of those as we follow the Aubrey family through several years of their childhood. There are four Aubrey children: Rose, the narrator, is one of two daughters in the family who seem to have inherited their mother's talent for playing piano; the other daughter Cordelia appears to have no talent, though she insists on pursuing a career as a professional violinist; and the fourth, a son named Richard Quin is loved for his unique ability to make things right with everyone. Yes, there are ghosts and murders and debt and an abundance of music, tea, cakes and food, but this is really just a book about family and childhood and friends and love.

Book One: The Sparrow

2009-01-14T22:35:00.000-08:00

The Sparrow, Mary Doria Russell

My first book for 2009 turns out to be a re-read. I recommended this book for my book club because it's one of my favorites and it makes for interesting discussion. All this talk about God and faith and religion and human (plus human-alien) relationships wrapped up in what appears on the surface to be strictly a sci-fi book. Though, as one book club member pointed out, that observation sounds like a huge kick-in-the-kidneys to sci-fi, and as someone who has never read sci-fi I'm not really one to judge, no? But what I really mean by that is that just because you don't read sci-fi doesn't mean that you won't love this book. (Do three negatives equal a positive or another negative?)

My confession to you: I think I may be obsessed with God. Just the idea of God. And why it is so common to believe in God. Who are these people and what makes them tick? That's why I love the Mormons. I mean, on top of believing in personal revelations and some angel named Moroni, they also believe in God? Who are they kidding?! How does one get to this point? I think that The Sparrow does an interesting job of broaching these questions. And didja know that there's a sequel? Or that Brad Pitt owns the movie rights? My hot tip: go buy and read this now before all the books on the shelves are either stamped with a giant "In Theaters Now!" sticker or, worse, have a movie poster shot of Brad Pitt decked out as a diminutive Puerto Rican Jesuit with a conquistador beard gazing into the double-irised eyes of an alien. I kid you not.

Books Fifty to Fiftytwo: Tintin

2008-12-31T23:25:00.000-08:00

King Ottokar's Sceptre , Hergé
The Secret of the Unicorn , Hergé
Red Rackham's Treasure , Hergé

Cheating?! Definitely not! Well... maybe a little.

I remember the day, back when I was a kid who spent far too much time in the library, when I found a Tintin book on the shelf and couldn't believe my luck. I thought I had unearthed a rare treasure that no on else knew about. I mean, the drawings! The crazy stories! Snowy! I honestly don't think I ever read more than a couple of these books after that, but I always thought of Tintin with fondness. When I became an adult I rediscovered my love for Tintin and started reading all the books, and have yet to work my way through all of them (just a few more to go).

I have always thought that the notable qualities of the Tintin stories include their vivid humanism, a realistic feel produced by meticulous and wide ranging research. Or at least, I have always thought that until I just read it on wikipedia. But really, the research is incredible. I highly recommend the lovely Tintin: The Complete Companion, which details the research, both visual and historical, that went into each book. King Ottokar's Sceptre, for example, was written at the very start of WWII and seemed to predict Hitler's takeover of Austria (though with far better results for Austria in the Tintin version).

I seem to envision December as a time of cozying up by the fire in the cold and reading book after book after book. What this--and last--December have proved to me, though, is that I get little to no reading done during this month. I have a variety of other factors to blame as well, some of them quite legitimate and some of them rather embarrassing, but I won't bore you (or me, for that matter) with them. Suffice it to say that I am back on the wagon again come January 1st, 2009, which, as I write this, is just 38 minutes away. And with that, happy new year and happy reading!

Book Fortynine: Infidel

2008-12-17T00:00:00.000-08:00

Infidel , Ayaan Hirsi Ali

I think that this book is best read on the level of this one woman's personal story. In this regard, this is a very powerful book. Her life, history, family and struggles (physical, emotional, and spiritual) are truly amazing. However, where I think this book takes a turn into the land of controversy is in her sweeping statements of Islam. I'm not one to say whether or not she's right or wrong, but what I personally connected with in these statements was not in her condemnation of Islam, but in her condemnation of any and all religion. Any American right-winger who thinks that she is the bee's knees ought to take a closer look at what she's really saying about all religions.

We read this for neighborhood bookclub, and it sparked some very interesting discussion. I honestly don't have any hard and fast opinions to share here (other than the above), but one thing I do wish for were more solutions offered in this book to the many problems and issues posed. I mean, what in the world are (Liberal) westerners supposed to do about all the shitty parts of Islam (you know, the systemic suppression of women, female genital mutilation, killing of all infidels, etc.), while still being open to allowing for the free expression of religion for all? Yes, there are some obvious answers, but there are also some super complicated ones that make me glad I'm not in any sort of public office that is responsible for figuring these kinds of things out.

Book Fortyeight: Silence of the Grave

2008-12-06T12:59:00.001-08:00

Silence of the Grave, Arnaldur Indriðason

Not bad, not great, pretty good, that's all.