Guterson: Modern Day Hemingway?

I just finished The Other, by David Guterson (author of Snow Falling on Cedars.) Is this the most underrated novel of the year, or did I just miss the reviews? I loved everything about this book: the social commentary; the pitch perfect narrator voice; the risks of the mysterious, yet believable, storyline; the literary, cultural and geographic references. This is truly a modern day classic.

Let me back up. This is the story of two friends, John William Barry and Neil Countryman, who meet as competitors at a highschool track meet in the 70s and connect through a love of wilderness and outings exploring Washington state’s remote backcountry. According to the back of the book, this is a “coming-of-age novel that presents two powerfully different visions of what it means to live a good life and the compromises that come with fulfillment.”

As I was reading it, I kept thinking of Hemingway’s For Whom the Bell Tolls. Strong male perspective. Female characters in the wings. Constant inner turmoil battling everyone else’s expectations. Hermetic brooding. The cave. Survival. Compromise.

Early on in the novel, it’s all about getting high and getting lost:

“We kept spinning our map around and rereading its contours, but so what? There was no way to make its symbols correspond to the world. Always this pattern – the three of us huddled over our map and deliberating on emptiness, then coming up empty. Was there something, somewhere, we could anchor to?”

The novel goes far beyond boyhood games in the woods. It’s exploration on a much deeper level – exploring ourselves, our families, the world around us.

While I’m certainly not a backcountry expert, I love the wild realm of the outdoors: the peace, beauty and connection it offers over a cushy, material life. As Neil says, “…there was a residue of this lonely and acute perception of the organized social world as a pathetic illusion…” This pull of contrasting environments and philosophies serves as the foundation for The Other - the storyline and setting are current and relevant, yet the questions that surface are timeless.

This is not a book for a casual reader, but I’ve already recommended it to a handful of people- surprisingly, all men -who I know will appreciate it.

(As I was writing this review, Simon & Garfunkel’s Homeward Bound came on the radio. Like pairing the right wine with your meal, this is perfect soundtrack for this book… )

Brilliant Fiction by Kate Walbert

Thanks to a recommendation from Roxanne Coady, owner of R.J. Julia and reader extraordinaire, I’ve just finished A Short History of Women, by Kate Walbert. What a smart, beautiful book! Like a velvety chocolate dessert that you just want to devour, but choose to savor, this is a novel best appreciated in slow bites.

It follows five generations of women, starting in late-19th century England, and meandering – amidst historical rewinds – to current day New York.  The wonder of this novel is Walbert’s ability to subtly weave a common thread – one of desires and anxieties, questions and  decisions – that bonds the women across shifting decades and unique voices.

But Walbert doesn’t succeed only in the storytelling; the beauty is in her perfectly chosen words, her scrumptious sentences:

“I take [the note] and step into the livery, sitting back against the broad, hard seat, resting, and as the driver pulls away from the crowds on the piers the notion that I have come so far alone settles like a black crow on my shoulder and squawks.”

“…settles like a black crow on my shoulder and squawks.” Is there not a better description of the intrusion of gut-wrenching loneliness? I cannot stop thinking about this passage.

I wouldn’t call this a light read – there is just too much to absorb for it to be a throwaway beach book. Plus, it can be tricky tracking the different women and dates (but the Table of Contents and Lineage tree upfront do help the reader navigate that!)

This is a must-read for lovers of serious,  smart fiction, and one I can’t wait to pass along to my fabulous women friends!

The Indifferent Stars Above

I really enjoyed Daniel James Brown’s The Indifferent Stars Above: The Harrowing Saga of the Donner Party and am recommending it to both men and women. There aren’t that many books that appeal to both, so excited to find one for both of the lovely sexes!

The life of a young bride in the nineteenth century was far from today’s extravagant weddings and cushy, exotic honeymoons. In the 1840s, “honeymoon” referred to “a period of presumed marital bliss following the nuptials.” Privileged brides often embarked on a “wedding journey” or “bridal tour” with friends and family, but it was unlikely that Sarah Graves, the young bride from Steuben Township, Illinois, would have been able to afford a celebratory tour. Instead, after her marriage to Jay Fosdick, she found herself among family and friends who had sold their farms and businesses in order to cross the Missouri River and make an epic cross-country journey to California.

For the rest of my review, check out my Women’s Adventure Magazine blog.

Little Bee

The inside jacket reads “We don’t want to tell you what happens in this book. It is a truly special story and we don’t want to spoil it… The magic is in how the story unfolds.”

What might have been an empty marketing ploy turns out to be genuine. Little Bee is a novel to cherish; Little Bee is a character you will not forget.

Chris Cleave, a journalist for The Guardian, tells the story of two characters: Little Bee, a Nigerian refugee who has been locked up in a British detention center, and Sarah, an editor for a women’s magazine. The mystery – and beauty of this fictional tale – is in how and why they meet.

At the intersection of ethnic violence in the Niger delta and London city life, Cleave exposes some of the toughest issues, from globalization, political greed and oil wars, to the equally painful, but more personal realities of damaged relationships and family. His sharp writing and commitment to the characters’ voices provide a steady foundation on which the turbulent story develops.

The most poignant moments emerge when Little Bee contrasts her current experience with life in Nigeria. She asks “What is an adventure?” and answers her own question:

“That depends on where you are starting from. Little girls in your country, they hide in the gap between the washing machine and the refrigerator and they make believe they are in the jungle, with green snakes and monkeys all around them. Me and my sister, we used to hide in a gap in the jungle, with green snakes and monkeys all around us, and make believe that we had a washing machine and a refrigerator. You live in a world of machines and you dream of things with beating hearts. We dream of machines because we see where beating hearts have left us.”

Little Bee’s innocent view of London is backfilled by her memories of Nigeria. She doesn’t understand horror films because for her, horror is a “film in her memory” that is always playing, and that she “cannot walk out of.” In her new environment, she wonders how to describe things to the “girls back home” – wood floors inside a house instead of piles of firewood, or the “ghosts” who don’t look at each other or touch each other as they hustle to work.

Cleave forces the reader to encounter everyday life with a new outlook and question which is more powerful: cultural difference or individual likeness. In Little Bee, worlds and perspectives merge to expose beauty beneath unattractive political and personal veneers.

(My review from Women’s Adventure Magazine.)

Little Bee

I’m blown away by Chris Cleave’s Little Bee. One of the best novels I’ve read in a long time.

I need to simmer on this a bit before writing, but stay tuned for a review. In the meantime, fiction lovers: keep an eye out for this winner!

Mr. Cleave: Bravo.

“To survive, you have to look good or talk good. But to end your story well – here is the truth – you have to talk yourself out of it.“

Lost in the Twitter Vortex

Has anyone else’s blogging suffered since they entered the world of micro-blogging?

I am shocked that I am now a regular Tweeter (@TaraDK) but quite honestly, I love the connections it breeds, from books/ authors/ publishers (a thriving community on Twitter!) to technology pundits/ reporters/ vendors. The only downside of the vortex is that it has distracted me from my original blog baby – Mingling with Words. (And alas! even as I am back here in the WordPress dashboard, I am still thinking and writing about my other love: Twitter.)

More on Twitter in future posts, but for now, let’s talk adventure reads…

For the history/biography fan, check out Linda Colley’s The Ordeal of Elizabeth Marsh: A Woman in World History, which I reviewed for Women’s Adventure Magazine in March. (Twitterized Review Title: One Woman’s Wonderlust, 200 Years Removed.)

And, just in:  a review of A Pearl in the Storm, by Tori Murden McClure. (Keeping an Even Keel: A Solo Trip across the Ocean.)

Happy reading – and of course…

Happy tweeting!

Must Read… Together

My book club recently read Beautiful Boy, a true story by David Sheff about his son’s meth addiction. I tend to gravitate towards these hard core drug memoirs, because there’s an intensity and frenetic energy to the voices that make for a compelling read. If it’s well written, I want to read it…. and in this case, Sheff doesn’t disappoint.

It is heartwrenching and scary, drawing the reader into the same cycle of denial/forgiveness/hope that he goes through as a father.  And moreso than other memoirs of this ilk, it brings up heaps of questions for debate and consideration: Is addiction a disease or a choice? Why does our society treat addicts as outcasts, and is that hampering the chance for recovery? Are current rehab options productive and viable? What can a parent do to help a child stay off the path of addiction?

When reading Beautiful Boy, there were times when I felt Sheff was holding back, or maybe only telling half-truths. It was only when I read Tweak, by his son Nic, that I grasped the power of perspective.

Whether it’s in marriage, friendships, work situations or family interactions, there are always at least two sides to every story. If two people witness the same car crash, for example, their perspectives are bound to be wildly different. The one-two punch of Beautiful Boy and Tweak couldn’t illustrate this more clearly.

Did Nic have a fulfilling childhood of surfing, swimming, writing? Or was he pressured to grow up too early, always around adults? How did his parents’ divorce and remarriages impact him emotionally? This isn’t an exercise in blame; rather, it points to the fact that parents reading Beautiful Boy should not only rely on the father’s perspective, but should read Tweak as well, to get Nic’s viewpoint. Granted, the truth lies somewhere in between, but at least we are presented with the chance to seek more than a single narrative.

For more on David and Nic Sheff, check out these links:

• Nic Sheff, David Sheff Talk about Life after Meth Addiciton
• A Twice-Told Tale of Addiction: by Father, by Son

The Story of Sushi

Check out Women’s Adventure Magazine for my latest book review: Appreciating the Art of Fish and Rice.

In Japan, sushi is a man’s world. Male chefs have defended the sacred space behind the sushi bar with claims that women don’t have the reflexes needed for knife work; that makeup, lotion and perfume ruin the flavor of fish and rice; that women’s warm hands cook the raw fish just by handling it.  (In fact, studies show that women have colder hands than men.)

Read more…

Reading is Sexy

Thanks to my friend, and fabulous design colleague, Angela Knightley for creating these images for The Next Page Bookstore, the indie shop where once a week I escape my “real” job to lose myself in books….

Ordinary Miracles

Last time I traveled to California, I sat at San Jose International Airport waiting for my flight to be called, hooked up to my iPod and distracted by my book, when a man whose plane had just arrived entered the gate with arms outstretched in a “Y” above his head. He was mumbling, as if on a cell phone with one of those wireless speakers. Something about his excited presence was out of place. But he was smiling. No, truly beaming. Was he about to greet his wife or a friend?

He looked right at me and briefly caught my eye. Not usually one to avoid connecting with people this way, for some reason I turned away, uncomfortable with such direct eye contact.  Was I mistrusting because I was at the airport where incessant loudspeaker chatter dictated the threat level and therefore how scared I should be of the slightest anomaly? Of a man who acts more boldly than the typical airport automaton? Of a man smiling?  

As he passed by me, I heard him call out: “I’m in America! My first time in San Jose! What a great country!” with arms still extended, truly savoring the moment.

I finally found my smile, too late to connect with him, but amazed at the simple joy of what I just witnessed. A few other passengers waiting for the plane to DIA finally looked up from their laptops and we exchanged small, contented smiles. I started tearing up, thinking about this country and thinking about Obama.

I don’t know who the man was or why he came to the U.S., but I am so very lucky to have shared the experience with him, even if in a very small way.  As I sat there taking it all in, I noticed Sarah McLaughlin’s “Ordinary Miracle” playing on my iPod, a perfect soundtrack for the moment. 

I agree with him: this can be a great country. So here’s to good thoughts for a great country on inauguration day…  and for many more ordinary miracles to come.