Finished: February 11
Pages: 230
I've loved Sherman Alexie for a long time, and I don't know what has taken me so long to read his young adult stuff. I can totally understand why this novel won the National Book Award, much less the other 22 awards and honors. It is excellently written, with heartbreaking tragedy and an inside look at the world of our young people and their interactions with the world around them. It also has that insider's honesty about the ramifications of growing up on an Indian Reservation, the kind of people who work there, and the politics of that kind of life.
The story is narrated by Arnold Spirit Jr. Called Junior on the reservation, Arnold at the white school he attends, and illustrated by him as well. He communicates some of his best ideas through pictures, and they are at times both heartbreaking and hilarious.
The life of an Indian living on the reservation is a life that I would not want for myself. Arnold leaves the reservation school because a teacher asks him to find hope, to not let
When his grandmother dies, Arnold's mother reacts by sobbing violently, a reaction that is familiar to us all, and Arnold's poignant observation that "When anybody, not mater how old they are, loses a parent, I think it hurts the same as if you were only five years old, you know? I think all of us are always five years old in the presence and absence of our parents" shows how mature the narrator is.
As a white person, I am occasionally guilty of some of the things that are brought to light in this book, no matter the intentions. The misrepresentation of Indians in mainstream culture can have a pretty powerful impact on how we interact with one another. The novel is full of wonderful cartoons and illustrations that go a long way to put into words (1,00 to every picture) the things that Arnold tries to express about his life, and the lives of everyone on his reservation.
Good reading,
Caitlin
Friday, February 11, 2011
Friday, February 4, 2011
Book 8: Light Boxes
Finished: February 2
Pages: 147
Here is the deal with this book. I am apparently not cool enough or smart enough or something, because I just do not get it. The premise seemed simple: the month of February is never ending, causing all sorts of issues: flight stops working, the sun never shines, the snow, winter, are never ending, despair reaches all the citizens.
But then the weirdness started, and it never stopped. February became a person, then was someone else; people died, but didn't die; every character was an archetype rather than a character; the font changed sizes, and took up little room on some of the pages.
I felt crazy by the time I finished, which I suppose was the author's intention. However, all the different font sizes, and empty pages just made me feel like I wasn't getting it. I hate not getting it.
I did like the opening quotation:
"The most serious charge which can be brought against New England is not Puritanism but February." With all our crazy weather we have had lately, I could only imagine how awful it would be to have all that snow and grey and cold all winter long, all February long.
All in all, I'm glad that, unlike February in the story, the book was short.
Good Reading,
Caitlin
Pages: 147
Here is the deal with this book. I am apparently not cool enough or smart enough or something, because I just do not get it. The premise seemed simple: the month of February is never ending, causing all sorts of issues: flight stops working, the sun never shines, the snow, winter, are never ending, despair reaches all the citizens.
But then the weirdness started, and it never stopped. February became a person, then was someone else; people died, but didn't die; every character was an archetype rather than a character; the font changed sizes, and took up little room on some of the pages.
I felt crazy by the time I finished, which I suppose was the author's intention. However, all the different font sizes, and empty pages just made me feel like I wasn't getting it. I hate not getting it.
I did like the opening quotation:
"The most serious charge which can be brought against New England is not Puritanism but February." With all our crazy weather we have had lately, I could only imagine how awful it would be to have all that snow and grey and cold all winter long, all February long.
All in all, I'm glad that, unlike February in the story, the book was short.
Good Reading,
Caitlin
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
Book 7: The Sweetness at the Bottom of the Pie
Finished: January 31
Pages: 373
I suppose, for a man in his 70's publishing his first mystery novel, this one isn't bad. And to be perfectly honest, I don't read mystery novels.
My issues are few but inescapable. The heroine is both precocious and naive, sometimes in a way that is well done, sometimes in a way that makes me want to punch her in the face. The overwhelming British-ness makes me think that the author was trying too hard to be British, and in light of discovering his Canadian roots, is slightly forgivable.
The thing that bothered me the most is the reason why I don't like mystery novels. I need to know what the hell is going on, and in this particular book, it took me two-thirds of the book to figure out who and what and huh? I'd rather just watch Hercule Poirot reruns on PBS.
The dialogue and character development was good, with the minor exception of the protagonist, sometimes.
Good Reading,
Caitlin
Pages: 373
I suppose, for a man in his 70's publishing his first mystery novel, this one isn't bad. And to be perfectly honest, I don't read mystery novels.
My issues are few but inescapable. The heroine is both precocious and naive, sometimes in a way that is well done, sometimes in a way that makes me want to punch her in the face. The overwhelming British-ness makes me think that the author was trying too hard to be British, and in light of discovering his Canadian roots, is slightly forgivable.
The thing that bothered me the most is the reason why I don't like mystery novels. I need to know what the hell is going on, and in this particular book, it took me two-thirds of the book to figure out who and what and huh? I'd rather just watch Hercule Poirot reruns on PBS.
The dialogue and character development was good, with the minor exception of the protagonist, sometimes.
Good Reading,
Caitlin
Saturday, January 22, 2011
Book 6: Confederates in the Attic: Dispatches from the Unfinished Civil War
Finished: January 21
Pages: 406
Perhaps, if I had read this book during history class, either in high school or in college, I might have made better grades than C’s. This is my kind of history: still alive and told in a narrative form. Although some might argue that Horwitz’s book is more a travelogue than a history book, I would say that he bring history to life by discussing historical moments in context with the modern repercussions. This book is complex, and addresses complex ideas and thoughts in an easy to read, easy to agree with look into Southern life that (mostly) lacks judgment, which is remarkable.
Although I'm from a technically Southern state, and many would automatically label me such, I have always considered myself Texan, and therefore even more distanced from the Civil War (or "The War of Northern Aggression" as my father loves to say). I spent many a childhood summer touring and being bored by touring Civil War Battlefields, and museums, and houses. I have, however, come to realize that my childhood boredom barely scratched the surface when it comes to the Civil War.
If I could sum up this whole book in one quote it would be this one, from one of the chapters on Virginia: "Everywhere it seemed, I had to explore two pasts and two presents; one white, one black, separate and unreconcilable. The past had poisoned the presetn and the present, in turn, now poisoned remembrance of things past" (208). Although this maybe started out as one man trying to reclaim his childhood love of the Civil War, in the end it became an exploration of the questions that anyone studying the Civil War is inevitably called to answer: is it racist to remember and/or honor the Civil War? How do we talk about the Civil War without either becoming apologetic or revenge seeking? How can we honor men who were killed fighting for something they might or might not have believed in?
Schools today gloss over this point in history, either out of a misplaced sense of shame, or a way of avoiding arguments. Horwitz has some interesting observations about how deeply the war affected our schools, discussing racial tensions in classrooms, desegregation, voluntary segregation, even curriculum. He also had some interesting observations from people he encountered, some insightful, some humorous, some down-right sad.
About students in schools, a teacher observed:
"I've taught two generations now, and this one is different. They're much thinner-skinned than kids used to be, but at the same time more insensitive to others" (375)
About the Rebel Battle Flag, the only living Confederate widow observed:
"One flag can just as well fly as another. But it's not worth no fuss and fight. Blacks all hate it. And you know, there's lots of people that's colored that's better than any whites. Some of the whites are the sorriest you ever seen" (342)
About slavery from a Black store clerk:
"Say your mother's sister's son, he's got slaves. You gonna say to him, 'Let's fight over it?' C'mon now, no way What you really gonna say is this." He paused for a moment, then continued in a perfect-pitch parody of redneck dialect: 'Hey, Billy Joe, whatever you want to do with those niggers is okay by me. Keep 'em in chains, what the fuck. Your momma is my momma's sister" (266).
And last, but not least, Jefferson Davis, in his last public speech, ironically written on a monument behind a Flag Day rally promoting white Southern Pride:
"The past is dead; let it bury its dead, its hopes and its aspirations; before you lies the future. Let me beseech you to lay aside all rancor, all bitter sectional feeling, and to take your places int he ranks of those who will bring about a consummation devoutly to be wished--a reunited country" (113).
If only the South had listened to Davis's advice, perhaps our fascination with the Ward Between the States would be purely historical, without the rancor that still haunts our discussions today.
Good Reading,
Caitlin
Pages: 406
Perhaps, if I had read this book during history class, either in high school or in college, I might have made better grades than C’s. This is my kind of history: still alive and told in a narrative form. Although some might argue that Horwitz’s book is more a travelogue than a history book, I would say that he bring history to life by discussing historical moments in context with the modern repercussions. This book is complex, and addresses complex ideas and thoughts in an easy to read, easy to agree with look into Southern life that (mostly) lacks judgment, which is remarkable.
Although I'm from a technically Southern state, and many would automatically label me such, I have always considered myself Texan, and therefore even more distanced from the Civil War (or "The War of Northern Aggression" as my father loves to say). I spent many a childhood summer touring and being bored by touring Civil War Battlefields, and museums, and houses. I have, however, come to realize that my childhood boredom barely scratched the surface when it comes to the Civil War.
If I could sum up this whole book in one quote it would be this one, from one of the chapters on Virginia: "Everywhere it seemed, I had to explore two pasts and two presents; one white, one black, separate and unreconcilable. The past had poisoned the presetn and the present, in turn, now poisoned remembrance of things past" (208). Although this maybe started out as one man trying to reclaim his childhood love of the Civil War, in the end it became an exploration of the questions that anyone studying the Civil War is inevitably called to answer: is it racist to remember and/or honor the Civil War? How do we talk about the Civil War without either becoming apologetic or revenge seeking? How can we honor men who were killed fighting for something they might or might not have believed in?
Schools today gloss over this point in history, either out of a misplaced sense of shame, or a way of avoiding arguments. Horwitz has some interesting observations about how deeply the war affected our schools, discussing racial tensions in classrooms, desegregation, voluntary segregation, even curriculum. He also had some interesting observations from people he encountered, some insightful, some humorous, some down-right sad.
About students in schools, a teacher observed:
"I've taught two generations now, and this one is different. They're much thinner-skinned than kids used to be, but at the same time more insensitive to others" (375)
About the Rebel Battle Flag, the only living Confederate widow observed:
"One flag can just as well fly as another. But it's not worth no fuss and fight. Blacks all hate it. And you know, there's lots of people that's colored that's better than any whites. Some of the whites are the sorriest you ever seen" (342)
About slavery from a Black store clerk:
"Say your mother's sister's son, he's got slaves. You gonna say to him, 'Let's fight over it?' C'mon now, no way What you really gonna say is this." He paused for a moment, then continued in a perfect-pitch parody of redneck dialect: 'Hey, Billy Joe, whatever you want to do with those niggers is okay by me. Keep 'em in chains, what the fuck. Your momma is my momma's sister" (266).
And last, but not least, Jefferson Davis, in his last public speech, ironically written on a monument behind a Flag Day rally promoting white Southern Pride:
"The past is dead; let it bury its dead, its hopes and its aspirations; before you lies the future. Let me beseech you to lay aside all rancor, all bitter sectional feeling, and to take your places int he ranks of those who will bring about a consummation devoutly to be wished--a reunited country" (113).
If only the South had listened to Davis's advice, perhaps our fascination with the Ward Between the States would be purely historical, without the rancor that still haunts our discussions today.
Good Reading,
Caitlin
Monday, January 17, 2011
Not a Book, Just a Something
So, I was trying to think of a way to make this year different from last year, and I finally figured out the answer I've been looking for. I'm only going to buy 12 books this year, the 12 bookclub books. Everything else that I read this year is going to be something that I either already own, or something that I have borrowed from someone else.
This is because I currently own 168 books that I haven't read yet, and quite frankly, that is embarrassing.
I am going to make the exception for Sarah Addison Allen's new book, that comes out in March, and say that if I'm just dying to have a new book when that comes out, I'm allowed to buy it.
Personally, I give myself three months. Especially if Borders keeps sending me Borders Bucks.
Good Reading,
Caitlin
This is because I currently own 168 books that I haven't read yet, and quite frankly, that is embarrassing.
I am going to make the exception for Sarah Addison Allen's new book, that comes out in March, and say that if I'm just dying to have a new book when that comes out, I'm allowed to buy it.
Personally, I give myself three months. Especially if Borders keeps sending me Borders Bucks.
Good Reading,
Caitlin
Saturday, January 15, 2011
Book 5: Love Walked In
Finished: January 15
Pages: 307
I was supposed to be finishing up Confederates in the Attic, but I made the stupid mistake of leaving it in my classroom over the weekend. Since I was avoiding cleaning my apartment, as well as a myriad of other distasteful activities, I decided to pick up a book that I loved the last time I read it. I didn't expect to read straight through until it was over, but c'est la vie.
I both love and hate this book. I love this book for exactly the same reasons that I hate it. I want, not so secretly, to be Cornelia. I want to have that kind of life, know those kinds of people, fall in love with a gorgeous and wonderful man. I want to be witty, and knowledgeable, and have people who love being my friend. To know all the references to all the movies and books and fashion. I hate her because, since this is a book, she isn't real because that kind of awesome doesn't happen in real life. But that doesn't stop me from hoping, and that's why I hate it.
But don't worry, I love it more.
Good Reading,
Caitlin
Pages: 307
I was supposed to be finishing up Confederates in the Attic, but I made the stupid mistake of leaving it in my classroom over the weekend. Since I was avoiding cleaning my apartment, as well as a myriad of other distasteful activities, I decided to pick up a book that I loved the last time I read it. I didn't expect to read straight through until it was over, but c'est la vie.
I both love and hate this book. I love this book for exactly the same reasons that I hate it. I want, not so secretly, to be Cornelia. I want to have that kind of life, know those kinds of people, fall in love with a gorgeous and wonderful man. I want to be witty, and knowledgeable, and have people who love being my friend. To know all the references to all the movies and books and fashion. I hate her because, since this is a book, she isn't real because that kind of awesome doesn't happen in real life. But that doesn't stop me from hoping, and that's why I hate it.
But don't worry, I love it more.
Good Reading,
Caitlin
Monday, January 10, 2011
Book 4: Someday My Prince Will Come
Finished: January 7
Pages: too many..I mean 320
Alright, it's taken me a few days to come to terms with my feelings about this "memoir."
If you want to read this book and even try to enjoy it, pretend that it is fiction, and then it is bearable. Maybe bearable is too nice a word.
Here are the things that I don't understand: almost everyone on amazon and goodreads loved this book. What the hell is wrong with women? Are they trying to live vicariously through a delusional anglophile because they want to live "in a fantasy world?" Yes, most girls do want to grow up and find out that they are secretly princesses, as evidenced by the success of books like The Princess Diary series. However, I feel that there is nothing wrong with growing up and doing something that is in the "real world." Fine says that "Sometimes I think the 'real world' is just a phrase invented by adults to give credibility to the miserable lives they've created for themselves. Feel free to call me delusional, but I was someone on this planet who, no matter how silly it seemed, was actually listening to my heart" (6) but personally, I'm glad that I grew up and live in the real world, rather than a fantasy that leads one to cry outside of Buckingham Palace (because it's just so familiar), or believe a psychic who tells you that you were once a member of the Court of Henry VIII. I'd much rather be a teacher, even if it is less glamorous. I'd much rather live in misery in the real world, than spend my time in a fantasy world that doesn't help anyone else and only seems to make her miserable.
She doesn't understand why all these British men would make out with her drunk ass but then not call her again. Albert Einstein said that insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results. By that definition Jerramy "feel sorry for me" Fine is crazy as a peach orchard boar (1). I just don't understand why you would write such drivel, when you have the opportunity to write a novel, and you have such interesting characters to draw from as that hippie family, that back country town, going to the psychic, being in London, but it all seems disingenuous and fake.
That is not to say that the book was without any redeeming qualities, or that the narrator was a horrible person bent on ruining everything for everyone. Her descriptions of London, specifically as it relates to meeting British people, I find totally accurate, as they reflect my experiences in London. The only people whose acquaintance I made while there were the teachers that I worked with, and a couple of Canadians who were introduced to me by a friend from TCU. I can understand her wonder at being in London, because I remember wandering by myself for hours through the streets falling over myself trying to see everything there was to see. I can still remember vividly the first time that I saw Big Ben and the realization hit me: I was in London.
It was her social commentary that I found to be lacking in insight and deep thought. She says:
I don't know what kind of crack this woman must have been smoking to think that this is true. Maybe because I'm from Texas, but I feel constantly judged by my accent, and I don't even have much of one, aside from the occasional "y'all" or more embarassing "fixing to." People in the South are often labeled ignorant by others because of their way of speaking.
There were a few moments of clarity and insight when you almost think that she has redeemed herself, where she almost realizes that maybe being royalty isn't everything; that English people are just people, rather than god's gift to the world, but when these realizations are uncomfortable or require a change in behavior she shoves the thoughts aside to continue stalking royalty and crying at buildings. That time that she spent in India, being confronted by the things her parents had always talked about, she could have made a difference there, really showed her royal carriage and distinction she's always talking about, but instead of stopping the car and learning something about suffering, she stays drunk for an entire week and parties every day. I guess she is just like a real princess!
The thing that annoys me the most? At the end of the book she grows as a person, really learns a lesson, and then went out and WROTE THE BOOK ANYWAY.
Good Reading,
Caitlin
(1) "Crazy as a peach orchard boar” (also “madder than a peach orchard boar") is a Southern expression used in Texas and elsewhere. Its exact origin and meaning remains unknown, but a peach orchard boar (or peach orchard pig) allegedly shows wild and unrestrained behavior. The term “peach orchard boar” also means sexual excess. (Appropriate, eh?)
Pages: too many..I mean 320
Alright, it's taken me a few days to come to terms with my feelings about this "memoir."
If you want to read this book and even try to enjoy it, pretend that it is fiction, and then it is bearable. Maybe bearable is too nice a word.
Here are the things that I don't understand: almost everyone on amazon and goodreads loved this book. What the hell is wrong with women? Are they trying to live vicariously through a delusional anglophile because they want to live "in a fantasy world?" Yes, most girls do want to grow up and find out that they are secretly princesses, as evidenced by the success of books like The Princess Diary series. However, I feel that there is nothing wrong with growing up and doing something that is in the "real world." Fine says that "Sometimes I think the 'real world' is just a phrase invented by adults to give credibility to the miserable lives they've created for themselves. Feel free to call me delusional, but I was someone on this planet who, no matter how silly it seemed, was actually listening to my heart" (6) but personally, I'm glad that I grew up and live in the real world, rather than a fantasy that leads one to cry outside of Buckingham Palace (because it's just so familiar), or believe a psychic who tells you that you were once a member of the Court of Henry VIII. I'd much rather be a teacher, even if it is less glamorous. I'd much rather live in misery in the real world, than spend my time in a fantasy world that doesn't help anyone else and only seems to make her miserable.
She doesn't understand why all these British men would make out with her drunk ass but then not call her again. Albert Einstein said that insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results. By that definition Jerramy "feel sorry for me" Fine is crazy as a peach orchard boar (1). I just don't understand why you would write such drivel, when you have the opportunity to write a novel, and you have such interesting characters to draw from as that hippie family, that back country town, going to the psychic, being in London, but it all seems disingenuous and fake.
That is not to say that the book was without any redeeming qualities, or that the narrator was a horrible person bent on ruining everything for everyone. Her descriptions of London, specifically as it relates to meeting British people, I find totally accurate, as they reflect my experiences in London. The only people whose acquaintance I made while there were the teachers that I worked with, and a couple of Canadians who were introduced to me by a friend from TCU. I can understand her wonder at being in London, because I remember wandering by myself for hours through the streets falling over myself trying to see everything there was to see. I can still remember vividly the first time that I saw Big Ben and the realization hit me: I was in London.
It was her social commentary that I found to be lacking in insight and deep thought. She says:
While the English are able to determine one another's class within seconds of hearing another's voice, the U.S. has no equivalent to this. Think about it. Your accent--be it from the Bronx, Texas, Wisconsin, or a tiny mountain town in Colorado--doesn't come with any kind of class label and you're not instantly judges or pigeonholed by the sound of it.
I don't know what kind of crack this woman must have been smoking to think that this is true. Maybe because I'm from Texas, but I feel constantly judged by my accent, and I don't even have much of one, aside from the occasional "y'all" or more embarassing "fixing to." People in the South are often labeled ignorant by others because of their way of speaking.
There were a few moments of clarity and insight when you almost think that she has redeemed herself, where she almost realizes that maybe being royalty isn't everything; that English people are just people, rather than god's gift to the world, but when these realizations are uncomfortable or require a change in behavior she shoves the thoughts aside to continue stalking royalty and crying at buildings. That time that she spent in India, being confronted by the things her parents had always talked about, she could have made a difference there, really showed her royal carriage and distinction she's always talking about, but instead of stopping the car and learning something about suffering, she stays drunk for an entire week and parties every day. I guess she is just like a real princess!
The thing that annoys me the most? At the end of the book she grows as a person, really learns a lesson, and then went out and WROTE THE BOOK ANYWAY.
Good Reading,
Caitlin
(1) "Crazy as a peach orchard boar” (also “madder than a peach orchard boar") is a Southern expression used in Texas and elsewhere. Its exact origin and meaning remains unknown, but a peach orchard boar (or peach orchard pig) allegedly shows wild and unrestrained behavior. The term “peach orchard boar” also means sexual excess. (Appropriate, eh?)
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)