Promiscuous readers share their thoughts
Sunday, September 25, 2011
A reader's dilemma
Saturday, September 24, 2011
Book club at sea
Tuesday, September 20, 2011
last month...
- Little Bee by Chris Cleave. This is a book about a 16-year-old Nigerian refugee girl written by a middle-aged British white guy. In the same way that I felt troubled by the way Kathryn Stocket wrote The Help (first person), this book seemed awkward. Alternating chapters told a terribly heartbreaking story from the perspective of this Nigerian girl and a thirty-something woman, neither of whom seemed particularly well-written. It was, however, a very compelling story that gave an interesting perspective of illegal immigration that is totally different than what we in the United States encounter.
- Girl in Hyacinth Blue by Susan Vreeland. (This is the same author, fellow promiscuous reader, Lindsay, will recognize, who wrote The Passion of Artemisia.) This book is eight vignettes telling the story of a painting by Johannes Vermeer. (Vermeer, one might recall, is the similarly glorified painter of Girl With a Pearl Earring, book written by Tracy Chevalier, who writes beautifully.) I read this over Labor Day weekend on the North Shore and it was a pleasant book to keep coming back to. Gently written, concerned with the way light creeps along the edges of days.
- Storey's Guide to Keeping Honey Bees: Honey Production, Pollination, Health by Richard E Bonney and Malcolm T Sanford. Because one must keep one's options open.
- Animal Farm by George Orwell. I'll get to this when I finish 1984.
- King Leopold's Ghost by Adam Hochschild. This was assigned in one of Dr Poole's history classes at Scholastica that I, unfortunately, didn't get a chance to take. It explores the Belgian king's complete takeover of the Congo River Basin and the gross human rights violations that ensued as he viciously destroyed the indigenous communities for ivory and then rubber during the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. It is gruesome and terrible but readable and informative. An estimated ten million Congolese people died during this period. Look it up.
Saturday, September 17, 2011
No Shortage of Reading Material in DC
Since this is a blog about books, I will skip past my other touristy stories and pictures of all of the grand, white marble structures and get right to the Library of Congress. At the end of our trip, I decided to make one last stop to see this set of buildings on Capitol Hill. The pictures I share here are in the Jefferson Building - the Great Hall and the Main Reading Room. The intricate detail throughout the building was breathtaking and the sheer number of books housed within this system was mind boggling. There are 838 miles of shelves in the three buildings on Capitol Hill, holding more than 33 million books and printed materials. My little reading heart was happy to have visited this collection.
Saturday, August 27, 2011
A Snapshot of Summer Reads


Friday, August 19, 2011
A Tale of Two Pacific Northwest Cities
This month my Love and I celebrated our anniversary in the Pacific Northwest, spending time in Seattle, the Olympic Peninsula, and Vancouver. We had a fantastic time and I was able to pick up two books along the way:
Seattle’s Market Ghost Stories by Mercedes Yaeger is a sweetly written memoir of the more haunted side of Seattle’s Pike Place Market. The Market is, of course, one of Seattle’s more famous landmarks and is absolutely, overwhelmingly fantastic. The Market hosts the original Starbuck’s, the Millionaire’s Club (they’re even better live), every kind of sea food one can imagine, and brimming with people from all corners of the globe. We had a great time strolling through all the stands for an afternoon before heading out of town to climb mountains in Olympic National Park.
Yaeger runs the Market Ghost Tours. I had the opportunity to meet her as we passed by on our way to the Gum Wall. She is full of great information about Seattle’s history and Pike’s Place Market, and clearly has a passion for the city. We didn’t have a chance to attend her tour, but I purchased this book as a souvenir and enjoyed reading it on the train to Vancouver two days later.
The book pauses at different places in the Market and alternates between bits of Seattle’s history and stories of people who have passed through the Market and now spend their time haunting the spaces they used to frequent. In a particularly personal verse, Yaeger tells the story of Princess Angeline and then of the Battle of Seattle, addressing the injustices done to the First Nation people with candor and dignity. With straightforward prose, Yeager tells the stories of the people who built the Market with a voice that betrays the fondness she has for them and weaves in her own experiences without pretense or agenda. It is clear that she is writing not only the history of the Market, but of her own Seattle city.
The Raven Steals the Light by Bill Reid and Robert Bringhurst is a collection of Haida myths accompanied by beautiful drawings by Haida artist Bill Reid. I purchased the book in the Museum of Anthropology at the University of British Columbia in Vancouver. The museum was something I was really looking forward to on our trip and I wasn’t disappointed. Full of a wonderful collection of pieces from various periods in the history of the peoples of the Pacific Northwest, it was the first place I was able to glean real appreciation for the culture of the First People there. I thought the totem poles, in particular, were fantastic.
The Haida are one of the First Nations bands who live along Alaska’s southernmost and Canada’s western coasts. Their spiritual home is called Queen Charlotte Islands in our language and Haida Gwaii in theirs. The book is full of great stories of the trickster Raven: how he created the sun, moon, and stars by stealing the light from an old man and his granddaughter and spilling it as he escaped from them; how he lost his beak, quite painfully, by tricking a hunter away from his home so he could have some personal time with the hunter’s wife, and then of how he regained the beak again, and so on.
The illustrations by Bill Reid mirror the artistic style he applies to his sculpture, jewelry, painting, and printing pieces. He artfully combines traditional Haida imagery and style with modern techniques and mediums to create pieces that celebrate the Haida culture. It was very neat to see his statue of the Raven and the First Men in the Museum and then see a drawing in the book as well. The last chapter in the book refers to a missing story called The Dogfish Woman and leaves the reader with a heavy sadness for all the pieces of life that so many First Nations people are missing as a result of European imperialism and, more recently, US and Canadian policy toward First Nation and Native American people. It makes one really treasure the ten little stories and the lovely artwork that illustrates only a sliver of the Haida culture.
Sunday, August 14, 2011
Is there a perfect book for book club?
Tuesday, July 26, 2011
The Help
“Sensational Bestseller” is what I found on the Internet that describes the book The Help by Kathryn Stockett. I don’t tend to appreciate hype given to books, especially one that so obviously would have ended up on Oprah’s Book Club (oh wait), but I’ve heard from two promiscuous readers whose taste I trust that this one is worth it, and it was.
The Help addresses race relations in 1960s in Jackson, Mississippi with particular attention paid to the unique relationship of white women and the African-American women they hire as domestic help. These women raise white children, clean homes, and are subjected to daily microaggressions (and oftentimes macroaggressions) and indignities, most notably in having to use a separate toilet. Recall, this is when Jim Crow was reigning supreme and “separate but equal” was accepted as appropriate.
The story is centered on the experiences of three women in particular: Aibileen is an African-American domestic housekeeper for a beta-level socialite, Minny is an African-American domestic housekeeper who regularly is fired for mouthing off to her employers, and Skeeter is a Caucasian-American college graduate with the drive to make things happen. The story is written by a Caucasian-American woman whose family employed African-American domestic housekeeper when she was a child. This seemed on the one hand bold that she would expose a shameful part of her culture but also risky that 2/3 of the book was written from the perspective of the help. I’m not in any position to know if she did this with grace and humility as I am not African-American, didn’t grow up in the time period, and have never been employed as full-time domestic help.
As this is, primarily, a book review, I should add that I’m not sure this book was particularly well written. I got so frustrated at times that I began to keep a list in the back. More notably:
1. Why did the author introduce the central conflict on page ten in the first chapter? This is way too soon. I wish she had given the story a bit of time to unfold.
2. Further, I don’t understand how on Earth Skeeter was ever friends with Hilly and Elizabeth and who in God’s name is this Hilly woman? She is absolutely awful and I’m in no position to know this, but were people really that awful? Maybe they were and I am being consciously naïve about race relations in the South in the 1960s, but Hilly doesn’t seem like a real person to me, no one is that horrid. This might be my problem.
3. Also, I never really understood why Skeeter cared. What event or experience raised her awareness to this blatant violation of human rights? I never really caught on to that.
4. And I am so petty, I’m sorry, but using the phrase “She is the child now and I am the mother” just seemed like such a cliché. There had to be a better way to illuminate the gravity of that situation.
However, the themes addressed are profound and heartbreaking and the story is very good. I would highly recommend reading it and I am looking forward to Viola Davis’ performance as Aibileen in the movie coming out in August. It looks like it will be a very emotional film and my hope is that it will spur conversations about our shared history in the United States and what micro— (and macro—) aggressions look like today.
Prodigal Summer
Prodigal Summer tells three stories that don’t necessarily overlap other than taking place in the same county during the same sultry summer. There are Deanna and Eddie who collide despite their polarizing differences; Lusa whose world collapses and who finds herself facing choices she didn’t know she was prepared to tackle; and Garnet and Nannie, elders who go to lengths to work at odds even as they try to preserve the same land. Kingsolver is able to intertwine the stories in a way that makes them feel relevant to one another and not at all choppy or out-of-place. They are full of heartbreak, humor, lessons in biology and conservation, and the underlying truth that everyone has needs and those needs are oftentimes much more similar than we realize.
Prodigal Summer is alive with life and brought two things to my attention that I previously hadn’t noticed:
1. There are no antagonists in Kingsolver’s stories. There are people who antagonize one another, but there is no single character or group who plays the “bad guy” or wicked stepmother. I really appreciate this as in life there are no evil characters, just folks who, through their own needs, are antagonistic. We are all humans, we all have needs, and sometimes we step on one another in an effort to fulfill those needs.
2. In Kingsolver’s writing, the setting is a character in the story alongside the human players. The mountain comes alive as the coyotes return, bringing Eddie and Deanna together. Lusa comes out of the ash of her life and into gardens that refuse to stop producing. And Garnet and Nannie bicker over how to tame the wild land they farm as it grows out of control. This overabundance coupled with some intensely beautiful human intimacy lends undertones of reproduction and sweaty connection to the stories that give them a very organic feel, like the whole thing is happening in a hothouse.
This was a great book to read in July, particularly during the hot hot heat that we’ve had recently in Minnesota. Prodigal Summer takes place in southern Appalachia, a part of the country I know nothing about, but it sounded eerily familiar. Minnesota is known for, if nothing else, the diversity of weather we get and the book could have just as easily taken place here. There is going to come a time when I will need to read Kingsolver’s catalogue a second time and I’ll be sure to read this one in the summer, it just doesn’t belong anywhere else.
Saturday, July 23, 2011
Why yoga is like reading

3) Mental benefits
2) There are favorites that you can return to time and again

