"A Cedar Cove Christmas" by Debbie Macomber

I received a text for Christmas from a coworker from an author that writes a novel every season. This was the Christmas story for 2008, not to be confused with THE Christmas Story.

A young woman named Mary Jo Wyse is unexpectedly pregnant and due 2 weeks after Christmas. She and her 3 brothers live together, and they fell obliged to take care of her since their parents' died, and the father of her baby is scum bag. She is sick of them being over protective, and discussing how they will "take care of" said scum bag, so she decides to go to his home town Christmas Eve to inform his parents of the baby, and that she has no intentions of involving Scum Bag. While in his hometown, she is stranded, and there is no hotel rooms for her. A librarian named Grace offers to host her for the night, but only has room in her apartment located in the barn. However, while Grace's family is at Christmas Eve service, Mary Jo unexpectedly goes into labor. Meanwhile, her brothers (the 3 Wyse men) learn about her trip, and are on their way over ... bearing gifts. They get lost, and further misdirected from King's bar. Luckily, they saw lights in the sky, that bring them right to the home where Mary Jo has given birth (at least there's an EMT in this version) in the barn. Everything turns out to be the most wonderful Christmas Eve for all involved.

Cute story, simply and fast read, I appreciate the gift, but I won't be looking for the 2011 version. I'd rather read it from the Bible.

Fixing My Gaze: A Scientist's Journey into Seeing in Three Dimensions

While sitting in the waiting room at the eye doctor, a book on the reading materials table caught my eye. It was titled "Fixing My Gaze: A Scientist's Journey into Seeing in Three Dimensions." While waiting for my appointment, I glanced through the book and added it to my book list. Somewhat technical in the scientific language, it still provided a very interesting perspective on the continuum of vision and what can and cannot be done to improve the way people see.

Susan Barry was born cross-eyed. Through her childhood, she had various surgeries to correct the appearance of her eyes. With the corrections, she had 20/20 vision. While listening to a lecture in college biology, she came to realize that even though she had 20/20 vision she only saw the world in 2 dimensions. This is a condition referred to as "stereoblind." It explained why she had such a hard time focusing while reading, watching TV and driving. To her dismay, the medical paradigm at the time (and continuing as a myth today), was that people who were stereoblind would never see in 3D. The thought was humans start to see in 3D as infants, and if the right neurons weren't making connections during this "critical period," there was no hope for seeing in 3D later in life.

As a neurobiologist, Susan grew restless with the notion that nothing could be done about the way she sees the world. With her background, she believed it was possible to get the brain circuitry to re-connect and change her vision. As she conducted her research, she learned of an optometrist in the somewhat obscure field of vision therapy. Her optometrist worked with her on weekly basis over the course of a year with various vision exercises to train her brain to see in 3D. After a year, Susan describes her amazing experience of finally seeing something in 3D. She was leaving a therapy session, and the steering wheel of her car suddenly popped out at her. Her descriptions of how this changed every day life were amazing. She didn't have depth perception issues while driving, which alleviated much anxiety; her tennis game improved; she craved nature walks and art shows to appreciate the space between objects. She shares the stories of many others with similar experiences in this book.

"Fixing My Gaze" is an inspiring book that demonstrates as much as we know in science, there is still much to learn and explore.

The Professor and the Madman

The Professor and the Madman: A Tale of Murder, Insanity, and the Making of the Oxford English Dictionary by Simon Winchester is exactly what it sounds like: a story about the making of the OED and some of the circumstances surrounding the involvement of American Dr. W. C. Minor and the Scotsman Sir James Murray (I won’t spoil which is the professor and which the madman). These two men were one of hundreds of people involved in what turned out to me the monumentally intricate and exhausting task of the creation of the OED in Victorian London.

As one can imagine, the creation of any reference piece, be it an encyclopedia, atlas, or dictionary, is a task not taken lightly. Prior to the compilation of the OED, no one had endeavored to put together a complete and exhaustive dictionary of the English language. Attempts had been made, the books gives a few examples of individuals who had put together dictionaries of rare or difficult words, some by subject rather than alphabetically, but none had attempted to catalogue the entire English language.

Furthermore, the reasons cited for the creation of such a document were interesting. One of the more interesting motivations, held by Gulliver’s Travels author Jonathan Swift, was to preserve the language as it was, to fix it and hold it in place from changing linguistic trends for the maintenance of its purity. it was with relief that I read the rebuttal of Benjamin Martin who wrote that No language as depending on arbitrary use and customs can ever be permanently the same, but will always be in a mutable and fluctuating state; and what is deem’d polite and elegant in one age, may be accounted uncouth and barbarous in another. Well spoke. And Samuel Johnson, editor of A Dictionary of the English Language, which pre-dates the OED by nearly fifty years, wholeheartedly agreed, but probably because he knew it would be a truly impossible task to do what Swift suggested.

It wasn’t until Dr. Richard Trench, at a meeting of the Philological Society at the London Library identified seven principles that recent dictionaries lacked. Above all it had become clear that the editors of the new project would need to maintain their objectivity. Dr. Trench’s sentiment was that “It was an essential credo for any future dictionary makers…to realize that a dictionary was simply ‘an inventory of the language’ and decidedly not a guide to proper usage.”

The work put in, by hundreds of people all over the world, must have been appallingly overwhelming. I appreciate Winchester’s method of making the process move swiftly through the text. The stories of Dr. Minor and Sir Murray are enjoyable, though sometimes heartbreaking, and the brief look at their relationship is actually quite lovely. The most meaningful part of the book for me was the Author’s Note, where Winchester quite lovingly and with admirable respect, dedicates the text to one George Merritt, whose involvement in the creation of the OED was nil, but whose death was nonetheless an impetus for its successful completion.

If the minutiae of trivia and obscure bits of history or language interest you, I think you’d rather enjoy this book. It is another text full of names that I suppose I could have taken notes on in an effort to better keep track of them, but I figured that anyone important would be mentioned enough times for me to remember them on my own. I was surprised at how quickly I was able to finish the book, though I think being home sick for three of the last five days may have helped.

Best Books of 2010

If you believe the commercials on TV or in the paper, EVERYTHING is the #1 in its class. This post does nothing to dispell this notion. Amazon has posted its top 10 and top 100 lists.

Some of the books our group has read and posted about are on these lists. I'm happy to see The Immortal Life of Henrietta Slacks at the top of the list. See Lindsay's post for more info. And Angela's post on At Home is featured at #26.

I'm looking forward to what will be fantastic reads in 2011!

Bill Bryson

Reading my first couple Bryson texts was a “where have you been all my life?” kind of moment. Of course I love Bill Bryson, why wouldn’t I? Why haven’t I heard of him before? Why haven’t I loved his books always?

Having received a text for my birthday that I already owned from a dear friend (thanks to a kindred traveler, Miss Kari Ann Grieman), I opted to exchange the book for another that captured the spirit of our love of travel. I had been hearing about Bryson’s newest product, At Home on NPR for so long that I felt compelled to give him a chance. Having received an advance copy of “At Home” from a very generous co-worker (and former B&N Inc. employee), I purchased Neither Here Nor There: Travels in Europe and called it a day.

What a door a book can open! Rather, how many splendid doors! I have never read a book that was, at times, as informative, joyful, irreverent, and heartbreaking as some of the travel literature I’ve read, and I’ve read so little! There is no way I could give a proper review of these two texts so I’ll just leave you with these few thoughts:

Bryson has a way with maps and strange places that make them accessible. His books illuminate without illustration, inform without overburdening the reader with facts, and delight without becoming gaudy or crass. Furthermore, they are immensely readable and, I am sure, wholly unappreciated unless one has read them twice or more. I am certain that the next time I pick up one of these books I’ll notice much more than I possibly could, especially in At Home, than I did on the first perusal (which is really all one can do the first time they read such a book).

Field Trip!

The Riverview Book Club shook things up tonight, meeting at the Minneapolis Institute of Arts rather than the Riverview Wine Bar that has been so hospitable these last few months. Amanda suggested the change in venue to explore two exhibits: Basins, Baskets and Bowls; Women Explore the Vessel and Beware her Wiles; Woman as Temptress in the Renaissance Tradition which I particularly enjoyed. I did take some photos and if my camera and my abilities sync, they’ll be posted for our readership’s pleasure.

Our next meeting will be January 14th at the Riverview Wine Bar and to celebrate the success of our little group we’ve decided to share a meal rather than just get drinks. The fare at the Riverview has always looked wonderful so I’m looking forward to it! Our chosen text is The Professor and the Madman: A Tale of Murder, Insanity, and the Making of the Oxford English Dictionary by Simon Winchester. Please feel free to join us whether you read the book or not, we’ve had so much fun and look forward to entertaining other promiscuous readers!

A Thousand Splendid Suns

Amanda and Angela had nice posts as usual. I agree with them both fully. I am not in the mood to write a nice collective prose format of my thoughts, so I will add my thoughts in outline format.

• A timeline is a nice suggestion. Here's one that was last updated 2005, but it gets you through most of the book, and the website has some other nice information: http://www.afghan-web.com/history/chron/index4.html
• I, too, am very grateful for the many blessings in my life, including my ability to be the blunt person I am known for. Even if I remained mute, I am sure I'd get killed for my facial expressions!
• I REALLY enjoyed this book, especially the development of the bond between Mariam and Laila. 2 women in any situation will eventually realize that we are all sisters. However, it was very difficult to continue to read about the hardships (to say the least) they endured. At one point, I wanted to keep reading because I knew it just had to end at some point. I almost cheered out loud when it did happen (if you've read the book, you know the point I am referencing). Only that bond of sisterhood and motherhood allowed them to endure.
• "One could not count the moons that shimmer on [their] roof[s], or the thousand splendid suns that hide behind [their] walls." Together they lived the darkest part of their lives, darker than most people can imagine, but it was "shimmered" by their bond with each other and the children. But they were both full of hope, determination for what's right, and above all, love, that they knew deep down in the brightness of tomorrow.
• Point for discussion: Could you do for a friend what Mariam did for Laila? Could you allow a friend to do for you what Mariam did for Laila?

A Thousand Splendid Suns

A Thousand Splendid Suns is one of those books where you should be required to have multiple resources by your side to enhance the reading. Here are my recommended tools:

• An atlas. And not just any atlas. It turns out my version from college was not a huge help. It featured countries by region, and Afghanistan and Pakistan did not appear in their entirety on any given page. I guess that is what the internet is for. Turns out B&N has a gorgeous National Geographic atlas for the price of $80.
• A notebook. I kept track of the regime changes and timelines with a rough outline. It did not come as big news that the country has been through much turmoil, but I learned, in detail, of some of the large of the political parties that ruled Afghanistan from the 1960s to early 2000s. It was no easy feat to keep track of, especially with the intricate, foreign sounding names.
• A dictionary or glossary. Seriously, this book would have benefited greatly with a map in the front and glossary in the back. Again, I guess the internet should suffice.

This was not a 100% joyful to book to read. In fact, I found myself reading large portions of it during the day. While reading in the evening, my brain had a hard time letting go and falling asleep while mulling over the graphic, and often sad, scenes. This is one of the benefits of book club - pushing ourselves to read challenging literature.

One of the main themes that stood out was Mariam and Laila's issues with their mothers. Both of the daughters were very different from their mothers, and had different expectations out of life. There weren't the in your face dramatic outbursts that may characterize some American mother daughter relationships. I found myself appreciating when Mariam and Laila found friendship, and then a sisterhood with each other. After all, Mariam was separated from her half siblings during her childhood and Laila didn't know her brothers well before they became casualties in the war. Some of the sweetest moments were when they bonded over Laila's child, Aziza.

Mother-daughter relationships are universal. But another new concept for me with this book was the burqa. Through their childhood and adolescent years, Mariam and Laila went unveiled. In fact, Laila's parents were on the opposite end of the spectrum as her future husband Rasheed. It was flinchingly hard to read Rasheed's demand for them both to wear the burqa after marriage. Nothing about him was likeable, but that was one more log on the fire with his awful treatment of his wives. Both Laila and Mariam had their outgoing, adventureous moments before marriage, but both characters mention how the burqa brought welcomed anonymity. Yet the one time they try to flee, while veiled, the initial anonymity did not save them in the short run.

With the way most of the book proceeded, I did not expect a happy ending. None-the-less, Khaled Hosseini brought as much resolution and peace to the characters as I could have hoped for.

A Thousand Splendid Suns

It is a good time of year for lists of blessings and things we are thankful for. After having read A Thousand Splendid Suns by Khaled Hosseini, I’ve come up with a rather sober one:

1. I am thankful for having had the fortune and opportunity to partner myself with a person who does not hit me, rape me, isolate me, threaten me & my children, or shame me in any way, shape, or form. He has never put a loaded gun in my mouth, made me eat gravel, or kept me from my family.

2. I am thankful that I live in a country where the government values the equity of people regardless of their gender (in broad terms); that as a woman I am extended the right of an education, a profession, rights to my body, my children, my home, and the vote.

3. The simple fact that I am writing this, adding hyperlinks to other sites, and posting it on the Internet without fear of retaliation by my government is actually quite remarkable in the global climate that we live in. I’m allowed to do keyword searches of “Taliban” and “Al-Qaeda” in safety (although questionable anonymity).

Reading A Thousand Splendid Suns did not make me aware of these things for the first time. Rather, it magnified the political and social climate in Afghanistan in a way that reinforced a previously held, though perhaps underappreciated, gratitude. It is the story of relationships between women and the sacrifices many women in war zones are forced to make. It plots the trajectory from rival to friend to ally that many relationships can take. It is absolutely outrageous that women anywhere in the world are treated as Laila and Maryam, the protagonists in Hosseini’s illuminating tale. This seems like a story that one might introduce as not being true, but nonetheless has happened; truth through fiction.

In the book, we follow Laila and Maryam alternately as they come of age in Kabul and Herat (respectively). Their paths begin on different slopes of the same hypothetical mountain, and when their lives cross, it seems they’ve arrived at the same poisoned mountain stream. The story of their survival in the face of an awful marriage and the sacrifices they make for one another and for their children is heartbreaking, and at times, covertly uplifting.

Throughout the story, Hosseini details Afghan politics. As someone with almost no knowledge of modern Middle East politics, I had a hard time keeping track of the various individuals and political groups they represent. Among the dozens of names of politicians and warlords, none of which I recognized, there are communists, Taliban, Al-Qaeda, the Russians, and the US. I think this difficulty added to the story however, it created a chaotic background to set the story against: it didn’t matter who was killing whom, the point was the Afghan people were living with fear, violence, and frighteningly dwindling resources every day, for years.

This was the first book I’ve read from the flood of literature that uses the Middle East (Iraq, Iran, Afghanistan, specifically) as a setting. I look forward to learning more and reading others. It is terrifying to process these books in the context of real wars (i.e. Operation Enduring Freedom, Operation Iraqi Freedom/Operation New Dawn), real US and NATO soldiers, and knowing that we might really be on the wrong side. As I think critically however, I am forced to wonder if there ever is a right side. The US isn’t at war with a country; it engages militia groups, rogue fundamentalists, and people who don’t represent anyone but themselves. The trouble consistently is that to get to our enemies, we must first step over the lives of innocents; blameless people who are our sisters and brothers and who are victims not only of the US’s retaliatory actions, but of the same global violence that inspired it.

The line by seventeenth century poet Saib-e-Tabrizi from where the title originates explains the brilliance in any community, as well as giving a context for the heartbreak of war:

“One could not count the moons that shimmer on her roofs,
Or the thousand splendid suns that hide behind her walls.”

October

Last month flew by with extraordinary speed. As a group we read The Journey to the Well by Diana Wallis-Taylor, which we decided last night was not an altogether fantastic book. A lovely story, certainly, but not well written nor uplifting. We appreciated the author's efforts at breathing life into the Samaritan woman from the Christian Gospel story of the woman at the well, but found it to be a bit out of touch with reality when, at the end, the entire cast meets Jesus and is instantly transformed into a peace loving and compassionate utopia where nothing bad ever happens. Additionally, the ending was very abrupt.

That having been said, it was with good intention that the book was chosen. After having read (and thoroughly enjoyed) The Red Tent by Anita Diamant and Mary Called Magdalene by Margaret George, we were looking for some Biblical fiction that gave flesh and soul to another marginalized female. Does anyone have other suggestions?

Short Histories - Bill Bryson

Do you need to hone in on your trivia skills? Do you want to wow friends and family with factoids during the upcoming holidays? If so, pick up some books from Bill Bryson.

A year ago, a friend recommended A Short History of Nearly Everything. The title seemed to exaggerate, but he did provide information on topics ranging from the creation and size of the universe to physics and chemistry to biology. The one notion that really stuck with me was his description of the size of the universe. Before this book, I couldn't quite wrap my arms around why space exploration is so important. It finally clicked with one chapter; showing how discoveries away from earth explains why life is the way it is here. He has the knack for taking complex scientific matters and explaining them for the reader in a way that doesn't put you to sleep. In my latest adventure in Borders, I discovered there is a new illustrated edition of the book. Its gorgeous!

More recently, Bryson has published a book titled "At Home: A Short History of Private Life." He happens to live in an 1850s era home in England, and sets out to describe the origins of various rooms, furniture, appliances and other creature comforts of the home. Be ready for an adventure, sometimes you have to look to the top of the page to remember which room he is covering in the particular chapter. In one of the earlier portions, he is describing the use of glass for windows and how taxes and technology changed the way people live. Have you ever wondered why, of all the herbs and spices, we normally only set out shakers for salt and pepper? Have you ever wanted to know why suit coats usually have three buttons on the cuff that don't serve any obvious function? Did you know that less than half of homes in Paris, France in 1954 had flush toilets?

Based on these two books, I'm willing to dig into his other stories. That is one of the true joys of reading - discovering a new author who has plenty of books to keep one occupied for a while. Happy reading!

The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks by Rebecca Sloot

How would you feel a piece of your body was left behind after you died? Would it matter if it were for science research? Would it make a difference if it was to be "for the greater good" for society? Some people would have a problem with the entire idea. But I, and I think most of society, would ask in return: "How do you define 'good?'"

Henrietta Lacks was a real woman, born in the 1930s, black and dirt poor. She was unfortunate enough to develop cervical cancer. Due to her education, finances, and personal reasons, she didn't start treatment until it was too late. She passed away at an early age, leaving her children to a future no better than her's. During the time of her treatments, her physicians preserved a piece of her cancer tissue. This tissue did something quite remarkable: when put within culture media, it grows without limits. To date, no other tissue has been able to achieve this feet. Because of it's endless growth, scientists have been able to test this human tissue in literally countless instances ... because it's still used today.

One side of the coin is the amount of 'good' this tissue has brought to human society. The medical advances are numerous. Science geeks can't keep their pocket protectors straight in their pockets just thinking about it.

On the other side is the Lacks family, none of whom had any idea that this happened, nor any education to help them even if they were told. Billions of dollars were made through these advancements, and the Lacks family saw not one penny, even though some think part of the greater 'good' to come out of this would be to give this poor family a break.

"The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks" tells both sides of the story, mostly without bias. It's not until the afterward that the ethical issues are debated by the author. What would true "informed consent" mean to the continued research of human tissue? Would we as a society be able to responsibly make a decision? Would science be able to responsibly handle society's reaction? As Sloot states, "How you should feel about all of this isn't obvious." So give this book a try, and answer me this: how do YOU feel about it? Do you feel 'good?!'"

The Master Butchers Singing Club

Previous to reading The Master Butchers Singing Club by Minnesota author Louise Erdrich, I had read Love Medicine, Tracks, and The Last Report of the Miracles at Little No Horse.However, it wasn’t until reading The Master Butcher that I understood Erdrich’s style in a way that allowed me to appreciate the weight of her story, as well as the telling. Truth be told, I think Love Medicine and Tracks went way over my head and will have to give them another go around.

The Master Butchers Singing Club is the gripping story of Delphine Watzka, a rural North Dakota townie and Fidelis Waldvogel, a German immigrant. Following World War I, Fidelis immigrates to the US in the hopes of getting to Seattle, though he only gets as far as Argus, North Dakota. He settles there, opening a butcher shop and raising his four sons with his wife, Eva, who is absolutely a brilliant force in the book. Weaving stories of murder, a threatening sheriff, the delightful Waldvogel family, and Delphine’s relationships with the endearing Cyprian and lovely Roy, Erdrich brings us a truly bittersweet story of human relationships.

So much happens in the book that each chapter is thrilling to read even on its own. The challenge to the reader may be keeping a pulse on Delphine and Fidelis’ relationship throughout the story. We travel with Delphine through her desire for the very sexy Cyprian, the resulting disillusionment and nontraditional relationship, her affection for Eva and loyalty to Eva’s sons, and the polar strength that both she and Fidelis summon to stay apart. We endure the insufferable Tante, the delightful Clarisse, the brooding Sheriff Hoch, and Delphine’s very drunk, very loveable and pitiable father, Roy. Each character and story line is drawn with such depth and cautious detail that the tale could go in any direction and I admire Erdrich for being able to stick with the story she’s chosen. It is clear that the story of the master butcher of Argus is just one of many that could come out of this fictional town.

Erdrich has previously written about the Anishinabeg communities in North Dakota and Minnesota and one theme of The Master Butchers Singing Club is the interaction of the native peoples of the plains with the white settlers. Specifically, Erdrich weaves in the Battle at Wounded Knee in an out-of-the-blue though not irrelevant way. The character of Step-and-a-Half absolutely fascinates and, though a very peripheral character, she had almost exactly the role I was expecting. "Almost" is the key word here; I would have been disappointed if I had been able to guess it.

Above all, Erdrich’s writing style makes this book so wonderful to read. Whether she is telling a tragedy or describing something amusing, she makes it count. She writes sentences like: “The light pouring through the curtains made a liquid sound, he thought, an emotional and female sound as it moved across the ivory wall.” I had to read that a couple times to really understand the air and sound behind an observation like that, but once I was there in the room I thought yes, I know that kind of light. The thought from the book that stuck with me most when I had finished was observed by Step-and-a-Half as she closed the story: “Our songs travel the earth…Not a single note is ever lost and no song is original. They all come from the same place and go back to a time when only the stones howled.” What imagery! What grace! What connection to the ancestors!

**If you decide this isn’t enough to make you want to read the book, go see the show at the Guthrie Theatre. It is showing until November 6th and is absolutely outstanding.

Black Swan Rising

I admit it, I'm guilty of judging a book by its cover. Many books that end up in my pile are picked because of book reviews, recommendations from friends, or continuing with a series or a favorite author. But once in a while, I break away from the familiar and walk through the library, and grab books randomly. This may be from the cook book isle, the travel isle, or the lovely fiction section.

This time, it was the "new fiction" kiosk. On top, featured on one of the prominent display holders, was a gorgeous black background showing the lower half of a woman's face. The title was "Black Swan Rising." Elegant, beautiful and mysterious. Sold!

The book featured Garet James, who is swept up into an attempted murder mystery. It involves her family, with a rich European history. It goes on to include famous artists, vampires, fairies from Shakespeare and alchemy. Hey, if you you're going to go big, go all the way. Interesting, it was written by Lee Carroll. Lee Carroll is a pseudonym for a husband/wife authoring duo. Hats off to them for creating a wonderful tale!

Animal Dreams

Animal Dreams by Barbara Kingsolver speaks to the universal feeling of being lost within oneself without even comprehending the tragedy of that small negligence. In it, protagonist Codi Noline returns to the town that raised her in an effort to regain some familiarity in her life after her sister Hallie leaves for South America. She is reacquainted with her father, her childhood friends, and Loyd, all of whom push her to acknowledge who she is and stop avoiding herself and what she is capable of. I hesitate to use the word "destiny" because it is an absurd concept, but in a way, Codi is faced with committing to life as her destiny.


At one point it irritated me that Codi was turning into another character wrapped up in a gauze of aimlessness and I worried Kingsolver would send her on a quest to find her spirit animal or have a dream of her destiny in the desert, dehydrated and sunburned. Rather, without neglecting the importance of solitude, Kingsolver allowed Codi to renew her value and self-worth in the company of folks who could point her along the way without doing the work for her. Her friend Emelina, Emelina's mother Viola, Loyd and his mother, the ladies of the Stitch and Bitch Club, her own addled father, and from a distance, Hallie's letters, all had profoundly quiet influence on pulling Codi out of her habit of avoidance of who she was capable of being and who she was worthy of loving. Loyd, for all his physical loveliness and his habit of being a bit of a recluse, was able to tell her that "It's one thing to carry your life wherever you go. Another thing to always go looking for it somewhere else."

Woven into Codi's story is a brief foray into the sustainability movement as the town of Grace grapples with a devastating (and human-made) environmental catastrophe. As she idolizes her sister for her heroics in the field of sustainable and indigenous farming in Nicaragua, she is faced with her own monumental task: being the instrument for people who have become foliage in the memories of her childhood. She is caught unawares by the gravity of her involvement and simply moves forward because it is what is required of her. It seems that if a task isn't outrageously difficult or effective on a global scale, Codi doesn't see the heroic value in it. It takes the entire community, each person contributing a small action or comment to get Codi to realize that living her life with people who truly value her and her skills is heroic, even if she doesn't think so. To honor the value others see in you is often the most difficult task.

Kingsolver, master at the ache we place upon our own hearts, is also master of using the setting of her stories to reflect the characters and the story itself. I love the setting of the American Southwest (in this case, the fictional town of Grace, Arizona; how fitting and lovely!). Kingsolver uses the background as an allegory of the beauty of human emotional suffering, as well as the physical suffering of a marginalized indigenous community. The haunting wind and parched land that annually give way to the beauty of desert flora makes for a delightfully spiritual place for such a quiet and meaningful story.

Animal Dreams reinforced for me the joy of Barbara Kingsolver's stories of heartbreak and emotional redemption. Her tales of the American Southwest always carry a detail of desperate loneliness with them that makes them stand apart as complete and separate things; yet they never actually do break your heart. She manages to uplift the reader without being trite or saccharine and make you feel as if you'd earned the entire book's secrets and trust. It is with reverence that I delve into each new Kingsolver book, for the quiet themes, the lovely characters, and the fragile matter of deep human love.

The Twentieth Wife

It is a rare and terribly uncomfortable day when I realize I simply can't finish this book I've started. I was excited to read The Twentieth Wife by Indu Sundaresan when it was chosen last month as our club read. India is a country I know very little about but, as with most people, it fascinates. Paired with a ladies night out to see "Eat Pray Love," I thought it would be a tropical September indeed.

Disclaimer: I am only half-way through the book. As the date for our club's monthly meeting approaches this week, I realize a couple things: 1. it should not be taking me so long to read this book, and 2. I must not be enjoying it because I keep finding other things to do when I've scheduled time to read, and 3. I shouldn't have to schedule time to read, I should be in a rhythm of just doing it. Therefore, my conclusion is: I am not finding enough in this book to make me care about the characters enough to finish it. I quit.

It took over a week for me to figure out why I was having such a tough time with The Twentieth Wife, a story of a pair of star-crossed lovers in imperial Mughal India in the 16th century. The protagonist Mehrunnisa is everything a feminist would want: intelligent, head-strong, gorgeous, and independent. However, I'm half-way through the book and it seems to me that the author has marginalized her just as much as the culture she lives in does. Her only act of bravery has been to smile through her emotional pain, and let's not fault her that. This is based on a true story and sometimes the bravest thing to do is deal with the situation you're in. I was just hoping for a little more action, some cultural rebellion, something worthy of the Disney-esque princess Sundaresan seems to be writing. (That is exactly what this feels like: a book written to be animated and put to a soundtrack written by MIA and Phil Collins with uplifting lyrics and a bodacious babe in gold lamé.)

Thus far, the author has spent way too much time telling me about the prince that Mehrunnisa is over the moon for and not giving me a reason to care. He's kind of a jackass to be honest: drug-addled, impressionable, selfish, and without any kind of honor to speak of. In the meantime, the child Mehrunnisa was thrilling to read about, but as soon as she grew up Sundaresan began ignoring her and only checking in each year as she doubled over in pain with another miscarriage. I've stopped caring whether she meets this Prince (not so) Charming or not. She's probably better off; her husband tends to be away a lot anyway and I think there are probably books somewhere she could liberate.

I can only hope she's building to a triumphant finish but I'm too tired to care and I want to move on. Perhaps I'm being impatient, it has happened before; but I've usually enjoyed the journey toward the climax and in this case it has become tiring. I don't want to read about Indian military history or another sentence so full of unfamiliar terms that I have to use the glossary six times to translate it to a place where I can understand it. Tell me the story, cut out the unnecessary minutes of what went on in court each day, and cut to the chase. And make it romantic if that's what it should be! Don't make me wade through red tape to get to a beautiful story and quit marginalizing your own heroine!

The Disappearing Spoon - by the group's IH

Think back to your high school chemistry class. Chances are, the artwork adorning the classroom probably contained a poster with the periodic table of the elements. For some reason, all through 7 chemistry classes, my favorite was tungsten.

Pop quiz - what is the chemical symbol for tungsten? Why, "W" of course! Why not T or Tu or Tg?? The "W"is for wolfram, the German name for tungsten. Without it, those handy incandescent lightbulbs would not operate if it weren't for those tungsten filaments.

I've always had a soft spot for science trivia, and the periodic table of the elements is full of interesting stories. If you have the same soft spot, I'd recommend "The Disappearing Spoon" by Sam Keane. The title references a property of the element gallium. Gallium turns from a solid to a liquid at 84 degrees Fahrenheit. According to the author, a favorite prank of grad students is to fashion spoons made of gallium and to hand them out with tea or coffee. The spoon looks like the metal of other silverware, but when used in tea or coffee, melts away - a disappearing spoon!

Another reason this is a great book is that it humanizes many of the famous scientists. In reading through textbooks, you never see into the personal lives or professional struggles of the discoveries and constants described in the text. Yet in The Disappearing Spoon, you see the races to get published (discovering and naming rights to elements), the discouragement at being passed up for a Nobel Prize yet again, and how wars and politics shape the or stunt technology.

The Twentieth Wife by Indu Sundaresan

I always like to read historical books written in a fictional setting, and this book takes to 16th century India. You learn what it's like to be a woman in a heavily patriarchal culture, and get a glimpse of the luxury of an emperor and his harem.

At first I had a hard time with the characters. Mehrunnisa, an intelligent head-strong young woman, has a hard time staying within her role in society. Of course that's a characteristic with which I am fond of. So why does she so easily fall for Prince Salim, simply for his looks and position? He's immature, conceited, and has no problem taking advantage of others simply because he's a prince. He even goes as far as plotting his father's death simply to be named emperor, yet he doesn't even take the time to learn from his father so that he too can be good leader.

Yet as the story moves on, Mehrunnisa and Prince Salim end up going in opposite directions. Mehrunnisa has opportunity to go after what she so desperately longs for, but stays true to honor instead. Prince Salim becomes a mature man, and although still glories in his position, takes seriously his role.

The most difficult part of the story was trying to relate to the characters. The culture is so unlike anything I know. If I was placed into it right now, I know I would be put to death within a day, if I was lucky. However, with an open mind, remembering that it is the only culture these people knew, I respected the way the women held themselves and interacted with their men.

In the end, I was happy with where the 2 main characters finally settled. I think it's a place that best represents their personalities and talents. And the best part is that it helped to open up the minds of the people of that time period to begin to understand that women are just as intelligent and capable as men...all though we all know there is still more work to be done in that regard.

Jane Austen

Blog about a Spark writer reading Jane Austen for the first time: http://community.sparknotes.com/2010/08/27/blogging-pride-and-prejudice-as-if-it-were-a-teen-novel-part-1

Eat Pray Love

I've been wanting to read this book for several years now, as it slowly grew in popularity. I have finally snagged a copy to read in between book club books. It's a light hearted, quick moving, short chapter book that is easy to enjoy.

The book is one woman's journey of herself. However, unlike the usual sappy memoirs (Tuesdays with Morrie, The Last Lecture) that I had read previously, this story didn't literally lecture me on how I should live my life. Instead, it was a woman sharing her personal journey, and simply reflecting on it ... and fortunately for her, it turned into a best-selling book and I am sure it will do well in the theaters. She tells the tales of the lessons she's learned, without instructing her readers to do the same. Why should she? They are HER lessons. And she leaves it up to her readers to go discover their's.

And the next book club book could be...

The Twentieth Wife by Indu Sundaresan was recommended to me. As I sat on a boat cruise with local industrial hygienists, safety professionals and occupational health nurses, I somehow steered the conversation to the topic of books. Is anyone surprised? I mentioned the next genre was to be historical fiction and The Twentieth Wife was recommended. Here is a review: www.curledup.com/20thwife.htm

It looks like there is a sequel available for further reading if it turns out to be an interesting read.

Until Wednesday, happy reading!

Alice in Wonderland and Through the Looking Glass

I was excited to read this book, as suggested by my personal librarian, Angela. I was hoping for a lighthearted kid book with deeper adult messages.

I was never a big fan of the Disney movie, but scenes reappeared in my head as the story went from tale to tale. Reading the introduction made it all sane for me; understanding that Lewis Carroll was really just a kid at heart and always imagining. But for someone as practical as I, the tales got stranger and stranger, and by the end, I was ready to be done.

What I did really enjoy was home much like a dream he wrote it. Through The Looking Glass did it more, but how each tale seemed to transform into the next without any transition, just like in dreams.

I am glad I bought a hard-cover copy. I will save it to read with my children to get them started into "chapter books." But I don't plan on recommending it to anyone else in any other scenario, so it will probably collect dust on my book shelf until then.

Alice in Wonderland

We are all familiar with the little girl Alice who fell down a rabbit's hole and found herself in a bizarre world of backwardness. As a child, the Walt Disney version of this tale made me very uncomfortable; it had no plot line that I could see and it's lack of structure made me bristle. Then, loving Johnny Depp the way I do, I rented Tim Burton's version of the film and loved it. Here was something I could get behind: not only was there a plot, but Burton et al presented a story of a young woman's journey toward muchness, a substance many young women these days lack.

So I suggested to the Club that we read the story by Lewis Carroll, knowing that most of our generation probably hasn't. As I read I was sorry I had suggested it, mostly.

The story itself has much more in common with the Disney film than I was anticipating. Strange world, when Disney gets most of it right, eh? There was almost no plot, save for a thinly written bit about trying to become a queen. Most of what happened was absolute and pure nonsense, which is fine when it leads to a conclusion, but I don't feel this did. The entire book seemed to me like an infuriating riddle with no answer to be had.

The parts I enjoyed the most were bits and pieces that Burton et al pulled out to put the more recent film together. At one point, Alice is heard to tell a Queen that "one can't believe impossible things." To which the Queen replies: "I daresay you haven't had much practice,...sometimes I've believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast." This is a lovely habit of childhood that so many grow out of as they progress, yet still missing their opportunity to develop their muchness. This theme is used by Burten et al to develop a sense of aimlessness in their Alice, and built a back story involving her dead father (aren't there always dead parents? Isn't that how storybook children find appeal on the shelves?).

The story Burton et al build around principally concerns the Jabberwok poem. The book is full of songs and poems and riddles, many of which the reader would recognize from the Disney film. Burton et al pieced together a totally new Alice story, one that makes sense, is empowering, is visually appealing, and still manages to preserve Carroll's general ideas. My conclusion: read the story, it is easy enough and you might love it. However, given the choice, I'd rather Tim Burton had written it.

Of Love and Shadows

Of Love and Shadows written by the brilliant modern-day Scheherazade that is Isabel Allende (ah-YEN-day) was not as wonderful as I wanted it to be, but it turned out to be just as spellbinding as I would expect of her. Let me begin...

I was told by an history professor who I admired that his favorite author was Allende. This alone made her writings seem intimidating, but I feared not and read The House of the Spirits, Eva Luna, and The Stories of Eva Luna; three of the most brilliantly written books I have ever had the pleasure of reading. They are magical and desperate and violent and erotic. She continues Latin America's tradition of magical realism and wields her pen with precision, turning out stories that are absolutely fantastic, dreamlike, and very real. It isn't enough to say Allende is my favorite author, I adore her books; she dashes any goals of authorship I may have because I simply am not good enough. Of Love and Shadows wasn't what I expected because in it Allende cast off the gauzy shroud of magical realism in favor of a brutal and honest look at human suffering. I was looking for an adventurous fairy tale and got a heavy dose of why living in the United States with the Bill of Rights is such a treasure.

That having been said, Of Love and Shadows is one of Allende's shorter novels, relating a story of desperate love and a psyche awakened to the horrors of living under a military dictatorship in Latin America (read: Chile in the 1970s following the coup that ousted Allende's uncle, socialist president Salvador Allende). Irene Beltrán is the protagonist and Francisco Leal is there too. He's lovely. He rides a motorcycle and has long hair and is called Francisco. Mmmm...

Sorry. So there is a mine and there are corpses and lovemaking and desaparecidos. Allende manages to pull the reader into a story of covert grave digging, people being "disappeared," and the families they leave behind, all in a way that makes it believable. This is an important element because while the story in the book may not be fact, it nonetheless happened to thousands of people, and thousands of families, and continues to happen all over the world, today, right now, as you're reading this. This is the kind of thing we never studied in high school in the US because there wasn't enough time, or it didn't relate to the US, or we all partook in an outrageously racist history curriculum, or because the CIA doesn't want us to know (you decide, get back to me). I am thankful to a Spanish teacher in high school who wove language, culture, and history together in a way that gave me an understanding of the world as a global place and kept me from feeling academically confined (te agradezco Sra. Laporta).

If you are looking to get to know Allende and her books, don't start with this one, but do get around to reading it. Then learn more about Oscar Romero, Charles Harmon, the CIA, and Latin America in the 1970s and 80s. It will fill in some gaps and teach you another meaning of the word freedom.

Book Suggestions

Fear not, I have finished Alice's Adventures and will soon embark Through the Looking Glass.

In the meantime, there are so many other good books out there! I recently finished Subterranean Twin Cities. It is written by Greg Brick, a geologist/urban explorer. Chapter by chapter, he takes the reader through a series of man-made and naturally occurring caves. From his vivid descriptions of raw sewage and creepy crawlies, I found it an experience best read about versus taking a live trip. He gives you plenty of geographic locations, which lead to many moments of "I didn't realize there were SO many caves under Nicollet Island, where I happened to spend 4 years of my life."

And with perfect timing, the library's automated system sent me an email this morning with an alert for a new book in for me. Its called "The Immortal Cells of Henrietta Lacks." Many biology students and researchers over the last few decades have used "HeLa" cells, which are named after their donor, Henrietta Lacks. The book tells the tale of Henrietta, the unknowing donor of these cells, the shock of her family finding out about her cell line use years later (without any consent), and the medical advances that have helped society. Can't wait to dig in!

Practical Advice from Alice as she Adventures in Wonderland - Summarized by Amanda

We are embarking onto another new literary genre - literary nonsense. While many of the characters in this book seem immature or illogical, young Alice offers sage advice that people of ages should read and heed. Since most are more familiar with Alice than some of the other characters we are reading about, I thought it would be fun to delve into advice from Alice with some modern day applications.

• ...and she had never forgotten that, if you drink much from a bottle marked "poison," it is almost certain to disagree with you sooner or later.
• This nugget of trugh would work well as an example in my day job - we are always harping on clear and accurate labels. Does anyone remember the Mr. Yuk stickers? Those were enough to keep me away from the bleach.

• She generally gave herself very good advice (though she very seldom followed it).
• We all have the little devil and little angel sitting on opposite shoulders. How many times have we listened to what each had to say (good advice or bad) and then take another path all together?

• Shall I never get any older than I am now? That'll be a comfort, one way - never to be an old woman - but then - always to have lessons to learn! Oh, I shouldn't like that.
• Alice is in such a hurry to grow up, yet she is constantly eating and drinking items to make herself grow and shrink, rarely finding the happy middle ground. Many children's play-times are filled with playacting roles of various adults - kings, queens, chefs, doctors and vets. And as adults we remember the care-free days of childhood. And I hate to tell you Alice, but you continue to have lessons to learn as adults.

• If it had grown up, it would have made a dreadfully ugly child: but it makes a rather handsome pig, I think. And she began thinking over other children who might do very well as pigs.
• Or all the politicians, CEOs of gas companies or fill in the blank people who might do very well as pigs.

• The King's argument was that anything that had a head could be beheaded, and that you weren't to talk nonsense.
• Enough said



• Tut, tut, child! said the Duchess. Everything's got a moral, if only you can find it.
• This is probably my favorite advice in the entire book. It urges us to look for some moral, no matter how tough the situation. I just heard about another book called "The Message" and is about finding the nugget of advice or learning in various sorts of communication. This may be great for a future blog post. And even the kids in South Park look for a moral at the end of most episodes.


• I don't see how he can ever finish, if he doesn't begin.
• Sometimes a situation seems so intimidating, it is tough to even know where to begin. Then the finish line become that much farther, and you don't make any progress. In these cases, it is surprising how much progress can be made if you put 5 or 10 minutes of effort into planning.


• That's the reason they're called lessons, because they lessen from day to day.
• If only. Instead they grow from to day to day.

• Begin at the beginning, and go on till you come to the end, then stop.
• See the third to the last bullet point

Frank McCourt

"Trilogy of Human Tragedy Turns Thoughtful and Uplifting" would be the title most appropriate for a review on Frank McCourt's three volumes: Angela's Ashes, 'Tis, and Teacher Man. Each illuminates the dark tragedies that exist in life and poignantly show the humble humor in each sad existence.

I snubbed Angela's Ashes for a long time, put off by the foreboding title and slightly eerie reference to my own name. When I finally got around to reading it it made me want to fly to Limerick and adopt sad little boys with names like Eugine, Alphie, and Malachy, bring them home with me, give them names that are a little less ridiculous, and feed them waffles with bananas, Nutella, and whole milk. I might still do that. At any rate, Angela's Ashes is an "Oliver Twist with a mother and no happy ending" sort of a story. And, truthfully, it doesn't so much end as it stops and gives you time to decide whether or not you want to continue traveling with this despairing man and read 'Tis or if you'd rather leave well enough alone.

'Tis is McCourt's follow up to Angela's Ashes and I found myself irritated by the author's whiny, lonesome, self-loathing tone until it occurred to me that I was reading the heart and soul of a homesick, self-loathing, twenty-something alone in the world for the first time. I would have been miserable too. In fact, I've been there and it is miserable. Ok, his whining was excused. This volume just got a bit long. He couldn't figure out why so-and-so liked him enough to sleep with him and truthfully, neither could I.

Teacher Man, however, was a bit better. At this point he has narrowed his focus off of himself and onto his subject matter: teaching English in various high schools in New York City. It made the book easier to read and it led me to feel two things:
1. I'm so glad I'm not teaching any more, and even more thankful I didn't pursue it as a career. There are fantastic teachers in this world, I married one and have had the privilege of learning from many others. I would not be a good teacher. You're welcome schoolchildren of America.
2. I want to do exactly what I'm doing here: reading everything I can get my hands on and engaging with people in conversation about what I've read. "You'll love it" "You'll hate it" "I thought it was fantastic/pretentious/tragic/bullshit."

Beyond that, having researched Mr. McCourt a bit, I found that his brothers Alphie and Malachy also wrote memoirs, and Malachy even a history of Ireland. I've requested them all from the Augsburg Park Library. I'll let you know.

Wednesday's Wrap-Up

Cheers to another great book club session. It was one half book discussion, one half catch-up on life session and one half choose another book chat. So I'm not a math major... It was great to re-hash the content of 100 Years of Solitude for a better understanding of the plot and what the author was trying to convey.

As to our future book selections, here is a smattering of our ideas:

• A biography, but with each one of choosing a different book on the same subject. This could also apply to a significant event.
• Four Queens: The Provencal Sisters Who Ruled Europe
• Historical fiction
• Career advancement (Nice Girls Don't Get the Corner Office)

The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society

My mother is a fantastic woman. When she says: "Read this book, you'll love it" my response should be "You got it Ma" and then I should read the book. Because I'll love it.

However, when I was given the motherly direction to read The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society by Mary Ann Shaffer and Annie Barrows my response was less enthusiastic: What kind of a stupid title is that? It sounded like a light beach read that would be poorly written and that I didn't have time for when my shelf of unread books included Isabel Allende (who I love) and Barbara Kingsolver (who my mother told me I'd love, and she was right), and Jane Austen (who I'm still just dating casually).

You read it here first folks: The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society is the loveliest book full of the most endearing characters and is anything but frivolous and poorly written. Mom said I'd love it. I should have trusted her track record of always being right.

The story is written in the form of letters between various people following World War II. The protagonist is fictional author Juliet Ashton, and readers follow her delightfully as she courts a friendship with a literary society of Guernsey islanders. We learn about the German occupation of the island during the war, and a story of one islander in particular emerges as the central tale. The book is delightfully clever & funny, the characters endearing, and the story both cheering and absolutely heartbreaking.

It is easy enough to read in a weekend at the Lake, but not so saccharine that you'll feel like you're wasting your time on junk. The authors expertly use the backdrop of post-war England and the story of the German occupation of the Channel Islands to tell their story, and, as Julie Ashton so shrewdly remarked:

That's what I love about reading: one tiny thing will interest you in a book, and that tiny thing will lead you onto another book, and another bit there will lead you onto a third book. It's geometrically progressive-all with no end in sight, and for no other reason than sheer enjoyment.

So read this book, you'll love it.

100 Years of Solitude - Potential Discussion Questions

1. In what ways can One Hundred Years of Solitude be seen as a fable about the history of human civilization?

2. How does García Márquez use symbolism in One Hundred Years of Solitude? To what extent does the novel function as a network of symbols, allegories, and parables; to what extent can it stand on its own as a narrative?

3. One Hundred Years of Solitude is a vastly ambitious book, attempting to bridge many dualisms and appeal to many audiences: it is both general and particular, both realistic and magical. Is the book successful in its attempts to encompass such a vast scope of experiences and voices? What are the narrative shortcomings of One Hundred Years of Solitude?

4. With which character in One Hundred Years of Solitude do you most identify? Why? Is there any character in the novel who is wholly admirable, anyone who is wholly evil?

5. What do you think is the novel’s understanding of human nature? Is it a fundamentally optimistic novel? To what extent does García Márquez believe that love is possible?

6. To what extent is the novel’s title, One Hundred Years of Solitude, an important commentary on the narrative in the book? What connections does the book make between knowledge and solitude? Is solitude an unavoidable condition of human nature?

7. To what extent do you think that One Hundred Years of Solitude is a novel particularly concerned with Latin American culture and politics? To what extent is it a novel designed to appeal broadly to all readers?


SparkNotes Editors. “SparkNote on One Hundred Years of Solitude.” SparkNotes.com. SparkNotes LLC. 2002. Web. 29 Jun. 2010.

100 Years of Solitude

This book takes an incredible amount of attention. I just got done reading 2 chapters, and my mind is still swarming, and it took my about 5 minutes to figure out how to add my own post! Seriously though, it is strange how much detail Garcia will take to explain one event, and then in another, if you blank out for a sentence or two, you miss something entirely. Cheers to the Spark Notes and Wikipedia Amanda mentioned!! I have been reading Spark Notes after every 2 chapters and it makes the book much more enjoyable.

I like Angela's comment about the genre of magical realism is like a dream. Indeed, just like a dream, if you can just "go with it," it's all perfectly logical and you just keep enjoying the story. You certainly can analyze it for deeper meanings, or you can just enjoy it for what it's worth. But I bet this book would be really cool if I knew anything about Latin American history. Like a good American, I don't :(

I think the most interesting character in Ursula. Who does she represent? God? The city of Mocando itself? I like to think of her as a symbol of how we should be. She likes things neat and orderly. She likes to keep the family together and she's all-inclusive. She honors tradition. She tries to keep everyone in line, and once you go against her position, you're screwed.

I have 110 pages left to get done in a week and a half. That's good though - the more I read in a short period of time, the more I can keep together.

100 Years of Solitude - Amanda's initial thoughts

As Angela mentioned, this book is not for the faint of heart. I'm only half way through at this point - and it is a challenge. It feels like being in high school English where a new book is assigned, and you don't know what you're in for, except a new genre. The difference this time is resources on the internet (yay Wikipedia and Spark Notes) to supplement the reading. It's not cheating, in fact, it has helped me along greatly to consider the author's point of view and to keep track of the Jose's, Arcadio's and Aureliano's.

One of the most interesting environments to me is the laboratory. Throughout the first half of the book, various experiements take place in the lab with the men in the family and Melquiades. After recently reading a biography of the scientifically prolific Curie family, I saw similarities in the pure research taking place. In both cases, they were taking the raw materials and carrying out experiments where the results would be unknown. This is much different than what I see at work now where a result is usually in mind and nothing too unexpected occurs. Nowadays, we don't see much liquid mercury being used, especially with no ventilation. Egads, they needed an industrial hygienist.

Now its on to the second half of the book - let's see what the younger generations bring to the story.

One Hundred Years of Solitude

One Hundred Years of Solitude by Gabriel García Márquez is not for the faint of heart, nor for the short in imagination. Magical realism is a genre that requires the reader's full participation. One must be able to believe in flying carpets, bones in walls that go cloc-cloc, and assumptions into heaven of one so pure she shaved her head just to be rid of the nuisance. These outlandish ideas exist not as props of science fiction or fantasy, but as something that perhaps at one time existed, and therefore, aren't out of our realm of belief. I describe magical realism to people as the memory of a dream, you just know that it happened, even if it isn't physically possible.

One Hundred Years of Solitude is the tome of a family, the Buendías. They have a tendancy to repeat the names Aureliano, José, and Arcadio so if you undertake the challenge be sure your book has a family tree in the front and flag it. You'll be referring back to it a lot. And that's ok. Just because you lose track of a character here and there does not mean you aren't "getting it." Give yourself some credit. The first read only requires that you savor the story.

The opening sentence alone gives the reader an idea of the type of book they're in for: "Many years later, as he faced the firing squad, Colonel Aureliano Buendía was to remember that distant afternoon when his father took him to discover ice." Márquez goes on to describe that distant afternoon, all the while you're wondering: ice? Give me a break! Go back to the firing squad! After such an expertly crafted opening line, one would be awfully beige to not want to know how this all works out. The book is full of rambling sentences like this; you have trouble tracing their origin but they draw you in. Stories about the Buendías bloom like begonias on each page and while it does become a bit troublesome linking them, soldier on. As I said before, the book is neither for the faint of heart, nor the uncommitted, but worth it every time.

By the end of the story (saga?), one should have an idea of Márquez's intent: addressing the cyclical nature with which our existence unfolds. Societies are doomed to repeated mistakes, wars, and destruction. He further declares this to be predestined. Meh. I don't buy into fate or destiny so I reject this analysis. Instead, I prefer to see the theme as the intertwining relationship of the past and future with the present.

A beach read this is not, though my copy has seen its fair share of sunscreen and sand. I highly recommend this book to those who can let go of caffeine and Facebook long enough to allow themselves to be told the tallest of tall tales.