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.