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.