The Art of Racing in the Rain

I'm shocked...shocked, by how much I loved this book.

The narrator is a dog.

There is much mentioning of racing - Formula One, NASCAR, Indy....

and the narrator is a dog. But I think I mentioned that already.

I liked this book so much that it made me want a dog. No, it made me want this dog. And I don't even like dogs.

Enzo, a terrier/lab mutt, believes in his next life he will be human. As he feels practically human already, just limited to grand gestures due to his loose-muscled tongue and lack of opposable thumbs, he spends his dog years closely watching his ownder, Denny Swift, to learn the art of being human so that when it's his turn, he'll have a head start.

Denny, a race car driver/mechanic/down on his luck dad is a kind owner who loves his dog and uses racing philosophies in his own life. There are many to choose from, but my favorite is, "No race has ever been won in the first corner; many have been lost there." Denny's own story is one of work, patience, courage, endurance, hope, and love. It's not an easy story to read. There are times I felt like throwing the book I was so mad at Denny's in-laws, but (kind of embarrassing to admit here), Enzo kept me sane. I just loved that dog. Just when I'd about had it, he'd make me laugh and I could manage another chapter.

Enzo dies in the end. It's not a secret. From the opening pages, you are reading the words of a dying dog. But that didn't take away my sadness in the end. I bawled when Denny held his beloved friend in his arms and says, "It's okay. You can go." Think Where The Red Fern Grows and Old Yeller only for adults. There is some mentioning of "mounting" (it's a dog's perspective, remember) and language.

Several times throughout the book, Denny or Enzo say, "Your car goes where your eyes go." Enzo knew that applied to life as well. Your life goes where your eyes go. I'm happy my eyes rested on this book.

The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society

Guernsey is a small Island in the English Channel that was controlled for five years by German forces during World War II. After the war, a young female British author, Juliet Ashton, finds herself unwillingly on a book tour to promote her book, Izzy Bickerstaff Goes To War. She's tired of the war, tired of writing under a pseudonym and tired of trying to be funny and lighthearted about such a horrible topic. Unfortunately, her mind draws a blank when it comes to knowing what else to write about. All of this information is delightfully given through amusing letters to her editor, Sidney.

While on tour, she receives a letter written by Dawsey Adams, a native of Guernsey, who has stumbled across her name written in a book by Charles Lamb. Seeking more information on this author, Juliet and Dawsey begin a correspondence that soon involves a dozen or so members of what is known as the Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society.

The letters include informations about the conditions during the War, zany character sketches that Island life seems to be best at producing and an emerging story that Juliet eventually realizes is her next book topic. To gather more information for her book, she decides to travel to Guernsey to meet these people she has come to know through letters face-to-face.

I have to include one fabulous quote. It will put a smile on the face of any blogger that has risked a meeting with a fellow blogger for the first time:

As the mail boat lurched into the harbor, I saw St. Peter Port rising up from the sea on terraces, with a church on the top like a cake decoration, and I realized that my heart was galloping. As much as I tried to persuade myself it was the thrill of the scenery, I knew better. All those people I've come to know and even love a little, waiting to see -- me. And I, without any paper to hide behind. Sidney, in these past two or three years, I have become better at writing than living -- and think what you do to my writing. On the page, I'm perfectly charming, but that's just a trick I learned. It has nothing to do with me. At least, that's what I was thinking as the mail boat came toward the pier. I had a cowardly impulse to throw my red cape overboard and pretend I was someone else.

In spite of it's long and confusing title, this is a book I happily recommend to everyone. It's chaming, uplifting, well written, funny, clean, historical, romantic and, best of all...a very easy read. I've read a few disparaging reviews that attack the book for being World War II fluff or not an accurate representation of what a female author in 1946 would sound like in letters. To them I say...fiddlesticks. If you want the nitty gritty of World War II or a proper British tone, have at a long list of other books already available.

If, however, you want to jump into small-town life on Guernsey, remember the thrill of letter writing, and enjoy a collaborative "na-na-na-na-na-na!" at resident busy-body Adelaide Addison - read this book! I have a happy hunch you won't be disappointed.

A Town Like Alice

A Town Like Alice reminds me so much of my favorite book, Mrs. Mike. Both catalog the difficulties and triumphs of living in remote areas. Both are historical. Both have a strong and engaging female protagonist who are in love with a man responsibly tied to a piece of land. Neither are fluffy Harlequins but make that pit in the bottom of your stomach churn with romance.

In short, I loved it. A Town Like Alice follows Jean Paget, a Scottish woman who was raised by her parents in Malay (now known as Malaysia), returns to work there as an adult and ultimately finds herself trapped there as a Prisoner of War when the Japanese invade the Island during World War II.

Her captivity is accurately described as horrible, with starvation and long marches from town to town killing many women and children. But, it also shows that unique ability of women to nurture, even in the most degrading situations. When she meets Joe Harman, an Australian ringger (cowboy) and fellow POW, he tells Jean about his home and work near Alice Springs, a bonza town in the heart of the Outback. The two extremely lonely and isolated characters become friends. Eventually, when Joe steals five chickens to feed the sick and hungry women and children, Jean is interrogated and punished until Joe confesses and is later crucified by a cruel Japanese leader.

The story's narration is directed by an elderly British attorney, Noel Strachan, who is put in charge of a trust Jean's uncle leaves her. Even with the narration in his control, most of the story is told through Jean sharing her memories to Noel. Eventually, I found Noel's involvement and third party perspective very satisfying, mostly because it allowed the author to cover a greater amount of time without seeming overly jumpy.

The book was written in 1950 and feels like it at times. The attitudes of segregation and thoughtless charactitures of minorities creates feelings of discomfort at times. It's not done with malice, and the story isn't about racial barriers at all, so I didn't find it offensive. If anything, it allows an unapologetic view that probably most white people had at the time - which is actually an interesting glimpse on its own.

I appreciated this book - for its less frequently told story of female prisoners of war and for its celebration of the human spirit.

Flowers For Algernon

This book will get me up to date and hopefully I'll lose that feeling of being behind and unorganized. Maybe. At least in this area of my life.

This was another book I saw on the most commonly banned book shelf at my library. I may have read it before, because I sort of knew the story already. Although if I did, it was when I was much too young to understand the depths of this novel.

I loved it. I really loved it. I even cried at the end, which is so, so rare these days (unless I read Nicholas Sparks who always seems to get me at the end. Blast him.).

Charlie Gordon is a thirty-two mentally retarded man with an IQ of 70. He works as a janitor and errand boy in a bakery and considers his life good and happy because he has lots and lots of friends. He is aware, however, of not being very smart. He thinks if he can learn to read and write properly, he'll be smart and able to understand and participate in what everyone else is talking about.

When an opportunity to undergo an experimental surgery as part of a neuro-psychological study to artificially increase intelligence arises, he happily signs on. He can't wait to become smart.

Algernon is the name of a mouse who has reached unprecedented levels of intelligence following the same surgical procedure. Charlie, the first human subject, mirrors Algernon's success and reaches levels of intelligence far beyond what the doctors behind the study are capable of understanding. Alongside his increased intelligence are emerging emotional capabilities, such as romantic feelings towards women, and troubling memories he was previously unable to remember or understand with his lower IQ, about his childhood and friends.

The entire story is important and poignant. The author, Daniel Keyes, includes part of Plato's, The Republic, to begin the story. Plato writes:

Any one who has common sense will remember that the bewilderment of the eyes are of two kinds, and arise from two causes, either from coming out of the light or from going into the light, which is true of the mind's eye, quite as much as of the bodily eye; and he who remembers this when he sees any one whose vision is perplexed and weak, will not be too ready to laugh; he will first ask whether that soul of man has come out of the brighter life, and is unable to see because unaccustomed to the dark, or having turned from darkness to the day is dazzled by excess of light. And he will count the one happy in his condition and state of being, and he will pity the other; or, if he have a mind to laugh at the soul which comes from below into the light, there will be more reason in this than in the laugh which greets him who returns from above out of the light into the den.

I don't know if he read Plato's words and then wrote this story, or if he serendipitously found it afterward, but it is the perfect prologue. As Charlie adjusts his sight from living in the den of his limited mind to the brighter light of understanding, the growing pains the rest of us have had years to adjust and become accustomed to, are uncomfortable and awkward.

Likewise, at the peak of Charlie's intelligence, when he viewed the world around him in the brightest light possible, Charlie understands the flaws of the experiment that those who developed it were unable to see. With that understanding, the tragedy of watching him lose his grip on so much knowledge feels overwhelming.

As far as being commonly banned, I have no idea, at all, how this could be. The only thing even mildly questionable, to me, is Charlie's struggle to come to terms with the negative sexual conditioning he received from his mother as a boy. As he begins to express the feelings he has for women in general, and specifically towards Alice, a woman he loves, he struggles to understand, beyond theoretically, the complexities of the male-female relationship. While these situations are included, I actually think it's a critical part of the discussion of light and dark. Perhaps not for middle schoolers, but definitely for those of us who live with our own conditioning and judgment.

I highly recommend reading this. Even if you know you've read it long ago for school, read it again as an adult. And then test your own eyes.

Crossing To Safety

Written by Wallace Stegner, author of one of my all-time favorite books Angle of Repose, Crossing To Safety describes with beautiful prose the art and act of friendship.

Two couples, Larry and Sally Morgan and Sid and Charity Lang, are both young couples living in Madison, Wiscosin during the Great Depression. Larry and Sid both have teaching jobs in the English Department at the university and Sally and Charity are both pregnant with similar due dates. The friendship between the four of them are instant and fully requited, and, as the novel begins with the Morgans visiting the Langs in their later years, obviously life long.

The title of the book comes from a poem written by Robert Frost that goes:

“I could give all to Time except-except

What I myself have held. But why declare

The things forbidden that while the Customs slept

I have crossed to Safety with? For I am There

And what I would not part with I have kept.”

I regrettably admit that I don't usually understand poetry without someone explaining to me its meaning. I think...I think this has to do with the intangible but still very real benefits of meaningful relationships. That those benefits exist even after death. But I could be wrong.

Like many, I assume, I long for that kind of meaningful friendship. One incredible thing about this book is that it adds to my longing without particularly making me want to BE a part of the book. The characters Stegner creates are so vividly real, I know...just know, that I couldn't be great friends with Charity. She's way too controlling. Likewise, I'd walk all over Sally. I need an equal sharer! Unfortunately, like almost every other character in the book, I don't have enough respect for Sid and Larry is much too full of himself to enjoy for long periods of time.

While I don't want to be their friends, in particular, I still envy their friendship. I want something similar. Only I want that one great friendship to be with people that don't bug me.

This book contains no great drama - no affairs or divorces, deaths or mysterious crimes - the journey of their friendship is compelling enough. He describes with such detail the universal jealousies, the generosity and benevolence of close friends, as well as the inevitable judgment that we make about others' relationships.

It's more than just a story about friendship and marriage, however. The characters themselves are literary looking glasses, exposing our own ambitions, priorities, tolerance, vices, pride, loyalty and egos. If you enjoy literature, and don't need an exotic story but find satisfaction in honest reality, you'll probably enjoy this quiet gem.

Anna Karenina

At the conclusion of Karenina's 800 plus pages, I add my name to Tolstoy's long list of admirers. What a thinker! Like a talented photographer, Tolstoy has an eye for realism and his writing inside the heads of his characters is perfection. For a book where nothing really happens (besides wealthy people hanging out in various places...and a few people dying) to still manage to have such a fascinating effect on readers takes a certain kind of genius. So many times, while reading, I thought to myself, "Nothing is happening. How did Tolstoy get away with writing this and why are we all convinced it's one of the greatest novels of all time?" Continued reading converted me, as it has the masses, but it reminds me of an old movie, where the story stands alone, without being propped up by special effects and dramatic music. It's good - naked.

These are my take-away overall impressions. But, there were some very frustrating moments that happened along the way. Sometimes, my eyes blurred as I waited for Levin, a wealthy land-owner who has no understanding or appreciation for insincerity and falseness (characteristics that run rampant among his aristocratic peers), to finish his conversation with the peasants or friends about farm management. The amount of time Tolstoy dedicated on a Russian painter living in Italy, and his opinion about art and technique and style seemed wholly unnecessary to me. Almost like Tolstoy introduced the portrait, knowing he'd need it later in the story for contrast, but couldn't simply write leave it at that. Instead, he had to include whatever obscure experience or knowledge he had about art too...throw it into another character. I felt, a bit, like I was being taken on a ride.

Obviously, I am a modern reader, and need my greatest-novels-of-all-time written modernly! Imagine, me...little reader from nowhere, thinking, "This Russian guy needs an editor!"

I include the critical thoughts along the way, because I don't think I'm alone in thinking Anna Karenina is, perhaps,a little bloated. However, bloated or not, this is an incredible, incredible book. Embarrassingly incredible. Like, how in the world does Tolstoy see the ridiculous inside everyone's head? How does he know how insecure a man like Levin is - a man, who from the outside, appears to have everything? How does he understand how a woman can be instantly irritated and irrational from something that her lover has said, or...more frequently, has not said?

It's not only the realism that makes this book famously good. It's the artful way he makes his case against falseness. Through one of his dual protagonists, Levin, he cleanly paints his case with soft, muted colors - conversations, thoughts, and actions - that reflect,ultimately, a very likable character. Levin does the right thing, usually thinks the right thing - so his thoughts are beautiful, enjoyable thoughts. If Levin hates falseness - well...I will hate falseness too!

Then, on a canvas located directly beside the pretty picture, he paints Anna, with dramatic boldness - including the vividness but also the awful, the disturbing, and chaotic result of a woman, who, every bit as passionately, hates falseness too. Whereas Levin is ultimately rewarded for his inability to accept hypocrisy, Anna, a woman we know isn't really bad, but who makes choices that aren't sympathetic either, is punished for it.

It may seem bizarre to review a book named Anna Karenina and only now mention her. I was surprised that this isn't more her book. Her story, along side Vronsky's, is certainly the most intense and tragic, but the novel's overall point isn't limited to her infidelity, or about her choice to leave her husband and child (which is what I thought it was going to be about. Even my husband, when he saw I was reading this said, "Oh. Reading the adultery book, huh?").

In fact, it's about a group of Russia's aristocratic upper class, and their motivations and justifications about the way they live their lives. Their stories are all tangled together and each of their decisions and actions create shock waves throughout the group. Tolstoy shows how, even within a privileged group such as this, where access to information, money, justice etc., supposedly is the same, how differently they think and choose to behave. There's the brilliance. I read a quote from another famous author who said that if the world could speak on it's own, it would sound like Tolstoy. Exactly.

Thousands of reviews have been written about this book, and I certainly have nothing new to add, but, if you have hours and hours of spare time or a penchant for 19th century Russian socioeconomic exposés or simply enjoy the thoughts of a great mind - read this book.

The Book Thief

Here it is, only February, and I don't know if I'll be lucky enough to read a better book this year.

I only recently heard about The Book Thief when Jill mentioned it on her blog. She and several others gave it such a strong review that I looked it up on Goodreads. I was a little dismayed when I learned it was set in Nazi Germany, because, well...I wasn't sure what else could be written about that time that hadn't already been said, and said well by many different authors.

I'm so glad I didn't let that thought stop me. This is a quirky book. The narrator is Death, and death isn't a very typical story teller. There are these abrupt bold statements centered throughout the pages when Death feels further information is necessary. They bothered me at first because I couldn't get into my normal rhythm. And, sometimes, his little side comments seemed slightly irreverent. Wait, books don't do this. Not books about the holocaust and Nazi Germany. But this book did, and once I got used to it, I loved Death's little insights.

My favorite thing about this book is it's fairness about one of the most unfair times in human history. The unbelievably complicated situation that the German people were in, their motives, their fear, even their ignorance is not necessarily defended, but explained. Their story is told through Liesel, a young girl who watches her brother die on a train as she is being taken to live with foster parents. After her brother is buried, she snatches a book left in the snow called, The Gravediggers Handbook. Unable to read, she hides the book in her bed until her gentle and loving foster father finds it and uses it to teach her how.

It isn't really about the Germans and the Jews....it's about our human instincts to survive and our race towards death. Death has a really interesting perspective, which lends itself to many quote worthy statements.. His viewpoint (and I'm just assigning gender to him, I'm not sure he actually does) is a troubling one, a compassionate one, an irreverent one and one that left me sobbing tears onto the pages at its end.

While I think this book is suitable for every reader, those easily offended might be troubled by some German profanity. However, in my opinion, not only is it necessary and relevant to the character's communication, it's in a foreign language...which doesn't really count.

I'm grateful this book crossed my path. It touched me.

The Book Of Mormon

My mother has told me for years that I should try reading the Book of Mormon like I do novels - straight through and quickly. I always thought, "Yes, yes...that would be great." but never really thought much more about it. After all, I'm not involved with a Young Men/Young Women super overnighter group read, or a convert from the 1800s reading by candlelight in a haybarn.

When Calamity Jane posted her goal and experience, I was reminded again of this idea - to consume the Book of Mormon like a book. I never, ever, ever take a year to read a book. Ever. I don't even take a month. I read it in a timely manner or I don't read it at all. Which is why I've never looked at scriptures as "books". I wish I could say I was a regular reader of them, but the truth is, I'm not. I go in spurts and have never really developed a daily habit of reading.

I began reading at around 11:00 am on Monday morning. I had just come back from the gym and was feeling very goal-oriented. I posted a blog post and, afterwards, sat in my blue, leather Lazy-Boy recliner in the living room, opened a replica copy of the first edition Book of Mormon (which makes for much, much easier speed reading as it is in the traditional block paragraph format) and read "I, Nephi". Familiarity hit me and my body physically resisted. Almost immediately, I was tired. I read maybe twenty pages and fell asleep. Asleep asleep, not just shutting my eyes.

First of all, I don't nap. I'm not a good napper (I wake up more grouchy than ever) and I need dark and quiet, two things I'm not prone to find in the middle of the day. Moreover, reading doesn't make me sleepy. Usually. Unless, of course, the paragraph begins with, "I, Nephi."

After my first pathetic attempt failed miserably, I decided to pull out the guns. I filled the bathtub with hot water and got a Diet Dr. Pepper from the fridge to keep me company. I really do some of my best reading in the bathtub. While this format is usually reserved for my evening solitude when no food demands or poopy diaper can disturb my soak, I recognized the need for an earlier intervention.

"What are your kids doing?" you might be asking. Coming in and out of my bedroom, but playing together handsomely and, overall, doing quite well. My parenting style of benign neglect came in quite handy for this current project.

The bathtub proved worse than the comfy reclining chair and I found myself dozing again! I was only forty pages into the book and my goal of a hundred pages per day seemed insurmountable. I felt like I'd already been reading, or trying to read, for the better part of the day and I hadn't made the kind of progress I anticipated making. I got out, got dressed and changed gears by talking to a few people on the phone. Later, I tried again and forcibly made myself read one-hundred pages. It wasn't enjoyable, or uplifting, and I found myself annoyed with Nephi and his goody-goodness. I get Laman and Lemuel's grievance. He sort of bugs.

I went about the rest of my day, picking Seth up from school, tidying up the more noticeable disasters in the house, and making dinner. After dinner, I noticed my sad little pedometer on my hip and it displayed a measly 2,500 steps for the day. A lofty reading goal doesn't jive well with being more active. With a sigh, I asked Jay if he minded if I went to the gym to walk on the treadmill for a while to get my steps in. He turned into Jillian- the-trainer and sent me off, telling me "No excuses." and I found myself in the very rare situation of being at a gym in the evening hours.

Thinking if I got ahead, maybe I would have a better experience the next day, I started walking at 3.8 mph and turned to page 101. I don't know what made the difference, but my entire experience changed from this point on. The book energized my walking or the walking energized my reading because sixty minutes and three and a half miles later, I was sixty more pages into the book and wishing I didn't have to stop. I went home, crawled into bed and read sixty more. I got my first glimpse of what would become obvious two days later, that like like any good book, this book was centered on conflict. I don't think I'd really known that before. Or at least I thought there was more of a balance between the good times and the bad. But there really isn't. It's mostly about the bad times.

The next two days were spent reading whenever possible. I made good use of my new gym membership and spent over an hour each day walking briskly while reading. I found my best reading to be done while walking. It was the only time I averaged a page a minute. If the day care would have allowed it, I might have spent all day there - walking and reading. I read in the car while I was waiting for Seth. I read while I ate. I read in bed before falling asleep. I just keep reading. I knew I could finish in three days and changed my goal to just that. I finished last night at 11:43 pm.

While certainly not comprehensive, here are some of my observations:

• Nephi is hard for the proud to like. If this sounds sacrilege, and you've never had this thought before, congratulations...you're probably not proud. But, pride is something I struggle with so his, "Why can't you all just be more like me?" attitude can be a stumbling block. But the thing to remember is, he was called of God, and although his personality might make me less wont to invite him to a party, his righteousness is absolute. And, ultimately, those who are called to be our leaders are meant to be followed. This means that the relief society president, who drives me batty (not my current one), still has the mantle of leadership, and it is my responsibility to adjust my pride so that I can learn the gospel. Laman and Lemuel, while probably slightly justified in finding their younger brother too much to take, allowed their pride to turn to sin, which resulted in the loss of the spirit. And thus, the second promise of the Lord is fulfilled, that "inasmuch as ye will not keep my commandments ye shall be cut off from my presence. They didn't and they were.
  
• the word "durst" is used quite frequently.
• The lineage of authorship foreshadows the later-day church established by Joseph Smith. Nephi gives the small plates to his brother, Jacob, not to any of his own children. Sort of similar to how Hyrum's children were later leaders for the LDS church but not Joseph's own. I found that interesting. I wonder if there was an ancient RLDS church out there.
• The allegory of the Lord in the Vineyard found in Jacob is profound and deeply relevant to our day.
• There were some slackers that were handed the plates.
  
• Race does not matter. The line between Nephite and Lamanite was so blurred throughout their history that it wasn't a matter of race. The distinction was between those who were lived the commandments of God and those who ignored them. The Nephites who turned "bad" were the worst of all. Those were some scary dudes.
  
• I've often wondered why there are so many details of the wars. I'm sure there are multiple and deeper reasons, but I'm leaning towards Mormon just being really interested in it. After all, he was in charge of the entire Nephite army when he was only 16. I can imagine him looking through all the old plates and scrolls and loving all the details Captain Moroni, Teancum, Helaman and Moronihah left. It's a manly book. If only their wives could have been bloggers.
• Sadly, the history is dictated by which war was in what year. I don't think their history differed from that of any other civilization. We mark time by our skirmishes and conquests. The peace and love that existed while Christ visited, and the effect his visit had for generations to come, stands in stark contrast.
• The sacrament is sacred. Jay and I had a discussion a couple of weeks ago where he pointed out that taking the sacrament is symbolic of partaking of the tree of life. After reading Christ's words to his disciples, I absolutely agree. I think we endanger our spirits when we partake unworthily or even absentmindedly.
  
• It truly matters who our leaders are. I found this discovery extremely apropos with the current change in leadership of this church, as well as the leadership of our country. It takes a wise, humble, and righteous person to effectively lead his people in peace and prosperity whereas a corrupt leader inevitably leads those who follow to destruction. Every time.
  
• Being rich isn't the point of being prosperous. I think a great stewardship comes with becoming rich. It's almost a test to see how you handle it. I've been feeling covetous lately for a large home. You see these monster homes being built everywhere around here and it's gotten into my head that I must have one. Nothing less than 5,000 square feet will do! It's pretty clear throughout the book that those the Lord blesses with prosperity doesn't entitle them to get caught up with their money and belongings. The outcome is never good when this happens. So, I'm going to nip this feeling in the bud and hopefully do it before the riches come. (by the way, I don't think having a 5,000 square foot house is bad. But coveting one before you need it or can afford it certainly is).
  
• Moroni was totally improvising at the end. He didn't know when he'd die so he just kept adding stuff at the end. And there is some really good stuff at the end!
• The moral of the story seems to be repentance. The theme throughout is "keep my commandments and you will prosper in the land." but as no one does that perfectly, except my good friend Nephi (who, really I'm just envious of because he never seems to stumble...and who doesn't stumble???) the only way to do it is to repent...continually.
  

The best part of this experience has been today. There is a certain famous verse, although when I read it, it wasn't a verse but merely part of the second to last page, where Moroni challenges the reader to pray with a sincere heart to discover the truth of the book. My greatest fear while reading was that I would feel exactly the same afterwards. I wanted to feel more, and an inner voice sounded off a worry about what I'd think if I didn't.

There were times I felt more. When Enos prayed, I felt power and love for that man.

I was again moved when Alma and the sons of Mosiah meet up again after more than a decade of missionary work and when Captain Moroni rides around with his Title of Liberty (although I really had to work hard to shake off a Mel Gibson with facepaint image I had in my head).

There was definitely a feeling of more when Christ blessed the little children. It is such a tender moment in time.

I didn't know if I'd get the burning bosom. I wanted it, but knew I couldn't force it so I decided to fast the entire day and made arrangements with my sister, Maureen, to have her watch Sam and Henry while I went to the temple. It was while I was driving to her high school to drop them off, and after I switched the CD playing from a So You Think You Can Dance mix to a Mormon Tabernacle Choir recording (I knew no burning would come from listening to Timbaland) that it came. Peace like a River started to play while I was going through the drive through at Carl's Jr. to get lunch for my boys and the melody and words "peace like a river", " faith like a river" "hope like a river", "love like a river" and I felt overwhelmed with such a spirit of joy and love for my Savior.

That's it! That's it. There are wars, and rumors of wars, and corruption and sin and secret combinations and even total destruction. But with Christ, there is peace. And hope. And charity. The Book of Mormon boldly teaches us the commandments of God, and of His plan so that the faith, hope and peace can be felt.

This book is true. It is not written by a genius of manipulation. By their fruits ye shall know them, and this is good fruit. It testifies of Christ and because it does, it uplifts the soul.

I found this quote on my friend, Alisa's, blog. How appropriate that it comes from President Hinckley. He says, "Love is the only force that can erase the differences between people..." The Book of Mormon proves this is true. Not through regime change. Not through indoctrination. I feel like shouting out to the world, and particularly to the candidates for president who keep promising unity. It's not about the economy, stupid,...it's about love!

I've been writing for a while now, and feeling a little bit like Moroni in that I don't know how to end this. I'm really hungry, but happy that I've made it until 5:50 without succumbing to my natural man, who most definitely likes to feel full.

I've been asked if certain books I review would be appropriate for church or enrichment style book groups. This would be a good one! I actually think it'd be fun to discuss in a book group setting. Of course, there's Sunday School, which is already set up for that, but I'm not usually a participant in that arena. Either way, I give it a thumbs up....five stars....highly recommended.

Thank you, President Hinckley, for inspiring this event in my life. It changed my week from mediocre to meaningful.

A Thousand Splendid Suns

For the last two months I have been putting off reading this book. For starters, I bought the book at an airport in Taiwan, which meant it didn't have a due date which meant it took a backseat to many books that I didn't have the luxury of reading whenever.

Additionally, because I've heard so much about this book already, I almost didn't want to read it at all. I've heard that it's depressing, that it's not as good as The Kite Runner, and that it's basically a novel about the brutal treatment of women in Afghanistan.

You know when you read a book or see a film that has had great reviews and you finish feeling disappointed because it didn't live up to the hype? My experience reading this book was the complete opposite. I loved it. I didn't feel the message of the book was one of brutality or depression, but of hope and the toughness of the human spirit.

There are plenty of awful scenes to lend credence to its reputation. While the story's time frame spans thirty years, the main focus of the novel are two woman, a generation apart, whose lives cross as they become the wives of the same man, Rasheed. The elder, Mariam, was born to a servant woman out of wedlock and is raised in banishment, ignorance and eventual rejection during the years the Afghani government was controlled by the communists. She finds herself forced to marry a much older man after her mother commits suicide. Laila, fifteen years younger and raised by intellectual parents, enters the marriage under much different circumstances. Alone after a bomb destroys her home and kills her parents, and pregnant by her childhood love who has fled the country, she marries Rasheed in a desperate attempt to save her unborn child.

The writing engrossed me. Much like the Kite Runner, Hosseini magically puts the reader in the city, neighborhood and house of his characters. Much to his credit, I found myself torn between wanting to yell at Laila to hush up, so that she'd avoid another beating, and kicking Rasheed myself, because he is a despicable brute.

Mariam, one of the most tragic characters in literature, makes this book what it is; a story of love and strenghth. She, who didn't have an easy day in her life, allows herself to be touched by the love of Laila and her children. In return, she performs the ultimate act of love and saves a family.

I appreciate Hosseini's portrayal of a part of the world that is under so much scrutiny lately. Afghanistan, and the city of Kabul where the story takes place, have a long history of wars and occupations which result in a great chasm between different ethnic tribes, Islam, economic classes and gender. Hosseini uses this novel to tell the story of Afghani women and the hardships that face them with each regime change.

As a woman, I feel blessed to have been given confidence and opportunities. I truly cannot imagine what it would be like to live under the conditions the women in this book live under. I am grateful to be born to the family I was born to and in a country which allows me to live the kind of life I choose.

Miram and Laila didn't have the opportunities or support that I have. And yet they survived. They endured and they reached out to others, despite their circumstances. In this, Hosseini redeems all of Afghanistan by showing these two women's humanity. He shows that in a place whose beauty was written about in a 17th century poem, where "One could not count the moons that shimmer on her roofs and the thousand splendid suns that hide behind her walls" is a city that can become illuminated once again.

Mrs. Mike

This wasn't on my list of scheduled reads but while I was in a bookstore last month to purchase a book for a Christmas exchange, I saw Mrs. Mike on the shelves and felt compelled to buy this much beloved book.

I'm often asked what my favorite book is. I always answer that I don't have one; there are many books I love but they are too different to say one is superior to another.

I have changed my mind. Mrs. Mike is my favorite book.

A coming of age story set in the Canadian North in the year 1907, Katherine Mary O'Fallon, a young woman of 16, goes to live with her uncle somewhere north of Calgary as treatment for her pleurisy. There she meets Sergeant Mike Flannigan, a Mountie who has "eyes so blue she could swim in them." They are eventually married after a brief (but fantastically romantic) courtship and she follows him by dog sled to the arctic wilderness to live among the fur traders and Indians.

I love this book for many reasons. Most importantly, as a book, it's my first love. Mrs. Mike was the book that made me realized how much a book could move and stick with me for years. I rarely re-read a book, but I believe I've read Mrs. Mike five times now. Each time, my stomach swoons when Kathy and Mike fall in love, I laugh when Kathy covers her daughter and Mike spanks Kathy instead, I cry when the unimaginable happens and I sigh as I close the book, thinking the line at the very end is one of the best ever written.

Another reason I love this book is that it's based on a real woman's life who the authors met before writing the book. I'm sure it's juiced from the reality, but even the skeleton of the story is moving.

I can't claim that it's the best written book. It is simple in structure, dialogue and description, but as I've read more and more over the years, and compare it to other literature, I believe the style matches the story perfectly.

It's the kind of book I can't help but promise that anyone who reads it will love it. But I also know that with our diverse personalities and preferences, it wouldn't be true. Like a biased mother who adores her baby, I don't think I'd enjoy anyone pointing out the flaws of this book. Perhaps its eyes are too close together and the head oddly-shaped, but it's my baby, and I think it's the most beautiful thing in the world.

March

I rarely buy books. This is true for several reasons, but if I'm ever missing, you'd have a much better chance at finding me by looking in library rather than a bookstore.

However, last month, for Blogger Bookclub, we had a book exchange and I found myself in a bookstore perusing the shelves. First of all, I could quickly change my borrowing ways if I were forced to walk through a bookstore every day. I loved it! So many rectangular shapes that wanted to be slid off shelves and bent open. I found myself off task and reading the jackets of many a book.

Which is precisely how I found this gem. Booksellers tend to pimp their bestsellers by displaying their front covers as opposed to the binding, making it easier to catch the buyer's eye. Right at my eye level was the book Year of Wonders by Geraldine Brooks. I surmised that it was about the plague and while that wasn't the type of story I was looking for, placed right next to it was Brooks's second, and equally acclaimed book: March, a 2006 Pulitzer Prize winner.

It is the story of Peter March, the absent father of Meg, Jo, Amy and Beth of Little Women. Much more up my alley, I replaced Year of Wonder back on the shelf and walked around with March until, ultimately I found an altogether different book and placed March back on the shelf too (I ended up walking out with The Emporer's Children, which I have yet to read.)

Not forgetting about my interest for March, I used my old-faithful-tried-and-true method of attaining books and placed a hold for the book from the library.

I think I should have bought it. It's a great book. Clever, poignant, informative, inspiring, heartbreaking, interesting and historical, Brooks takes Louisa May Alcott's famous Little Women, and writes a parallel story about their father's experience during the same year. Little snippets are taken from Little Women, and it's as though you can see that famous play happening in the background in each scene. Sort of like Wicked and The Wizard of Oz, only more serious and important. After all, Peter March wasn't out flying on a broom, he was trying to serve the Union troops in the United States own Civil War.

Brooks bases Peter on Alcott's own father's journals, just as Alcott based her Little Women on herself and her sisters. Bronson Alcott, and his fictional representative, Peter March, are part of the intellectual elite who reside in Concord Massachusetts alongside their contemporaries, Walden, Thoreau, Hawthorn and Brown, who each make an appearance in the story. Idealistic abolutionists with Quaker leanings, March leaves his family to support the union's cause to end slavery and finds great conflict between his inner values and his outward actions.

Brooks writes exclusively in the first person and as a result, I, the reader, was able to understand Peter March as he was, as he wanted to be and as he failed to be. He is a fantastic character. My only complaint with the book is that she abandoned Peter for a few chapters and wrote as Marmee, his wife, when he lay sick with fever. She eventually returns to Peter's voice, which gives the story the resolution it needs, and while Marmees' thoughts are equally moving and necessary, it made the ending a little choppy.

Despite that lack of continuity, I enthusiastically recommend March. It will force you to examine your own viewpoints about war, education, race, marriage, courage, pride and love.

Good In Bed

Even though this isn't the Blogger Book Club book until February, I went ahead and re-read it because it had been six years!

I still enjoyed it.

Weiner tells the story about a confident woman, who works as a journalist for a paper in Philadelphia, who breaks up with her author boyfriend only to find an article written by him in a magazine about "Loving a Larger Woman".

The article begins, "I remember the day I found out my girlfriend weighed more than I did."

Aaack!

Perhaps it is all the large girl humor I find so appealing. She really nails so much of it. And Cammie, her protagonist, is a great character. Lots of zingers and thoughts and comebacks that make you want to hang out with her in real life.

Like most of Weiner's books (and I have read most of them now), she tends to create a melodrama in what most readers simply want to be a comedy. The conflict, which all books must have, blows up too much and makes the book lose its sparkle. I also have a problem with the reality of one part, which I will wait to discuss with my fellow readers, instead of lodging my complaint here.

Regardless of its imperfections, this is a fun, entertaining, interesting and honest story that most readers (do NOT recommend this for your ward book club - that mistake does not need to be repeated) would enjoy.

East Of Eden

LOVED. EVERY. BIT. OF. IT!

What a story! I've been typing book reviews for a couple of hours now and my mind is a bit shot, but I finished this last night and afterwards, I lay back on my pillow extremely satisfied just thinking about it. It's so rare that I read something that delights me from beginning to end. While there were a few turns on the journey that confused me and seemed to take the book in a different direction, his connecting all the characters, the stories and to do it with profound meaning is nothing short of brilliant. Now add the facts that he weaved in a little of his own personal history, and one of the oldest, and best known stories of the Bible and Steinbeck's brilliance is only amplified.

I'm always surprised when I love a classic. Perhaps because there are a lot that I haven't liked, or merely tolerated, but this was a joy to read. The characters are so multi-dimensional and interesting that their stories and development become almost personal. Adam, Samuel, Lee, Abra, Cal, Aron, Kate/Cathy and even Liza were real for me. Their homes were real. Their towns were real. Best of all, the consequences to their actions were real.

How do you summarize East of Eden? It's a story about good and evil. But most of all, it's a story about choice. For me, the central part of the book was the realization made by Lee, Adam and Samuel when they were dissecting the story of Cain and Able and their offerings. In one translation, the Lord rebukes Cain's offering by saying, "If thou doest well, shalt thou not be accepted? And if thou doest not well, sin lieth at the door. And unto thee shall be his desire, and thou shalt rule over him."

It was while reading a different translation that Lee, a Chinese servant, noticed a difference. In it, rather than saying "thou shalt rule over him" it said "do thou rule over him" They noticed that it wasn't a promise, it was an order. Such a difference got Lee wondering what original word different translations came from.

After years of studying with Chinese philosophers and a rabbi, the consensus was that the original Hebrew word, Timshel, actually means "Thou mayest". Therefore, the bible does not order that man triumph over sin or promises that it will. It says that the way is open. For if thou mayest...that mayest not.

Brilliant! Because that's what I think! Agency is so important to Heavenly Father that he allowed 1/3 of His children to leave him permanently. Of course we have a choice over sin.

Steinbeck leaves the story briefly in Chapter 34 when he writes a short essay about the one story that exists. He says,

Humans are caught - in their lives, in their thoughts, in their hungers and ambitions, in their avarice and cruelty, and in their kindness and generosity too - in a net of good and evil....A man, after he has brushed off the dust and chips of his life, will have left only the hard, clean questions: Was it good or was it evil? Have I done well -- or ill?

In uncertainty I am certain that underneath their topmost layers of frailty men want to be good and want to be loved. Indeed, most of their vices are attempted short cuts to love. When a man comes to die, no matter what his talents and influences and genius, if he dies unloved his life must be a failure to him and his dying a cold horror. It seems to me that if you or I must choose between two courses of thought or action, we should remember our dying and try so to live that our death brings no pleasure to the world. We have only one story.

All novels, all poetry, are built on the never-ending contest in ourselves of good and evil. And it occurs to me that evil must constantly respawn, while good, while virtue, is immortal. Vice has always a new fresh young face, while virtue is venerable as nothing else in the world is.

This is what his book is about it. Man's struggle over good and evil. In a completely human story, Steinbeck captured THE story with his characters and storylines. This is a book I happily recommend to anyone and will buy for my all-time greatest books library.

Possession

Wow.

Wow.

What an original book! A.S. Byatt was awarded the Booker Prize of Fiction in 1990 for her ambitious love story between two fictional poets from the 19th century, R.H. Ash and Cristabel LaMotte, and two modern day literary experts on their works and life, Maud Bailey and Roland Mitchell, who uncover a series of unknown love letters between the poets and piece together clues that have been well hidden for over a century. Journal entries, poems, fables, letters, dialogue and narrative are all used by the author to progress the plot and expose the century old secret love affair. The fierce competition over discovery and possession of the recently discovered documents within the world of academia explains the urgent drive and need to uncover their past.

The result is not always easy to read. The poetry, for me, was especially difficult. Reading poetry, complicated poetry...not Dr. Seuss or Shel Silverstein, is like reading a foreign language that I only had one semester of in middle school. I can read it, pronounce it but simply don't have the patience, background knowledge or vocabulary to comprehend it. Victorian era poetry is like multiplying that difficulty ten fold. And, many times, it wasn't a few lines or stanzas to muddle my way through, but pages and pages of subtle irony and word play about relationships or observations embedded in a poem about a garden or insect.

That's the hard stuff. But the conversations about life, creation, religion, independence, gender, and language within a charged current of attraction and need had me on edge and completely absorbed in the story. The characters are impossibly real. Byatt captures a unique personality through past writing of each of her historical characters. Ash's writings are consistently and clearly his. Christabel has a completely different style in communication and poetry. Even Ash's wife, Ellen's writings (yes, he is married. It's a romance but not a happy, feel good one) are purely hers. There is no contamination from other characters or limits created from the author herself. I really thought the italicized print were reprinted documents. Not being a poet or scholar of Victorian English literature, I had no idea that Ash or LaMotte were actually fictional. I knew the story was fictional, but I assumed the author took license with two actual historical figures. They are so tangible, so smart and their voices and thoughts so believable and detailed that it wasn't until I finished the book and googled Ash and LaMotte that I discovered their lives were limited to this book. The letters, the poems, the journals...each had their own tone and style. What a feat to accomplish in one book. No wonder it won such a prestigious award!

Incredible fiction. I'll remember this book for a long time.

Suite Francaise

A masterpiece. And this is the rough draft.

I've spent the last day trying to decide if I loved this book because I'm sentimental. The author, Irene Nemirovsky, was a Russian Jew who wrote this while living in occupied France. A respected author, she had married Micheal Epstein who had also fled Russia when the Bolsheviks revolted. They had sincerely adopted France as their home country, converted to Catholicism and were the parents of two daughters. She began writing this novel while simultaneously experiencing it. She and her family had lived in Paris but had fled when German troops invaded the city. While most of the country was occupied, she moved to a French village and tried to survive amidst the new harsh laws concerning anyone of Jewish decent. She could no longer publish her works, could not cash checks, could not travel freely. Her life and freedom, as well as those of her husband and daughters were threatened daily. She had every excuse to be as frightened and as hysteric as anyone.

Yet, she managed to write an unbelievably candid look at Frenchmen in their hour of need. Her intention was to write a five part novella in the idea of a musical symphony much like Beethoven's Fifth examining the behavior of people from different classes of society. She succeeded in writing two of the five parts: Storm in June and Dolce. Storm in June begins as rumors of a German invasion into Paris reach a frenzied level and characters decide whether or not evacuate their homes. The attitude, priorities and expectations vary greatly between the elite and working class. Desperation brings out the very worst in most, but not all. Food, gas, shelter - the basic needs of any person, become scarce and the desire to survive seems to super cede any desire to help a neighbor. Nemirovsky is an expert at exposing this without focusing on the misery. Instead, in her own words, she shows "the prosperity that contrasts with it. . . one word for misery, ten for egotism, cowardice, closing ranks, crime. But it's true that it's this very atmosphere I'm breathing. It is easy to imagine it: the obsession with food." Writing about the contrast is very effective. `What impresses me more is that Nemirovsky was part of this aristocrat class. She was privileged. To have the ability to understand at all the confusion and need of those without shows great compassion, I think.

The second part of the novel, Dolce, is quite different. Rather than following several loosely related characters, she focuses on a small village adjusting to life with the German troop based there. Most of the upper class members of the village, farmers, land owners etc., had to house the officers of the German army at the same time their husbands, sons, and brothers were being held as prisoners of war someplace else. Nemirovsky manages to weave in a few of the characters from Storm into the story but the overall pace and feeling is much slower and calmer (ah....dolce!) The slower tempo and close proximity force many of the French to look at the Germans as humans rather than simply soldiers. Boredom resulting from the restrictions placed on the villagers, jealousy and greed as supplies and food are scarce for many cause tensions to run high. The most interesting part of this story to me was the relationship between Lucille and the German officer staying at their chateau all the while under the persecution of an unforgiving and pompous mother-in-law. How disappointing when this story ended and there was no more.

Following the two stories are the handwritten notes written by the author. Plans for the third part to be titled "Captivity" were outlined and different storylines attempted. The realization that this was all a rough draft boggles my mind. They seem so....done and flawless. What a loss. After the appendix showing Nemirovsky's plans for the novel is another with the letters recovered from her and her family, acquaintances, editors etc. during this time period. The tone in these letters is so different from the tone in her notes for the novel. It's as if she was somehow push away her fear and trepidation while writing and thinking. Her personal correspondence, however, reveals that she was very aware of the danger facing her. Her last letter is written to her husband as she is being taken to a concentration camp. Following letters show the desperation of her husband, trying to find out where she has been taken and how she can be saved. then those stop as he is arrested and also taken to a concentration camp. They were both killed at Auschwitz.

Her daughters were hid by a close friend for years until the war was over. Her eldest daughter carried around this manuscript in a suitcase wherever they travelled as a link to her mother and finally had it published and translated sixty years later.

I don't think I loved this just because I am sentimental although I love it for that very reason. Independent of the author's tragic parallel story is the creation of something unique and special. It is as if someone was holding a mirror up to the French during the war but this mirror is alluring and beautiful, so much so that you can't help but pick it up and just gaze. But it's more than just a look at the french people during a specific period of time. It is also a timeless portrait of humanity. Highly, highly recommended.

Angle Of Repose

Two days later and I am still profoundly moved by this book. I can't stop thinking about it.

I am not a lover of words and whenever I read reviews that say, "savor each sentence" and "beautifully fluid prose" I tend not to be impressed. Just give me the story and make me feel. But Wallace Stegner's sentences really do make you want to slow down and read each word. They all matter. They aren't just puffy and pretty even though they are. It serves the time, the characters, the setting...it's just perfect.

I didn't know before reading this that Angle of Repose is actually a scientific term that means when the angle of the ground is such that things stop rolling down. A 50-something historian who has been disfigured and is emotionally scarred heals himself by researching and writing a biography of his grandmother. He reads through her letters and journals, articles that were published and sketches she drew and extrapolates about her relationship with his grandfather, her kids and others she knew. The weaving and changing in time is subtle and I didn't find myself jarred back and forth as I sometimes do when authors use this technique. You feel their lives sliding until the end when things get to the point where they are still. It is beautiful, sad, motivating, and moving. I feel like this book matters. That you can actually gain something other than entertainment by reading it. It is going in my favorite's section.

Never Let Me Go

This book is really best read without any prior knowledge about it. I picked it for this month's book group and we had a pretty good discussion about it. Andrea said it best when she said that while reading the first page, she thought the word "carer" was a misprint and that they meant "career". My favorite thing about this book is the writing. Not the choice of words but the view of the world the writing gives the reader of this story. It is so unfamiliar, so foreign that it takes awhile to figure out what is going on. But the author is in no rush to placate the curious or the impatient (are you a patient reader, Kristen?). He takes his time getting the reader accustomed to this strange girl, Kathy H. and her strange world.

Once I figured out what was going on and started to digest it, ethical questions, moral dilemmas, and the irresistible urge to compare it to real life debates floated around in my thoughts for a good week. I knew this would be a book I wanted to discuss with others and the book group didn't disappoint.

Joseph Smith: Rough Stone Rolling

While reading this book, I think I recommended it to about every person I had a conversation with about it. Now that I'm actually finished reading it, I have mixed emotions. I'm not left with the feeling I wanted to have -- the triumphant "Praise To The Man" feeling. But I do feel grateful. Grateful for Joseph for the questions he asked, for the organization he established and for those early saints and their willingness to believe in what had to be SO hard to believe. Grateful for its continuation and the clear heads of the 12 apostles who didn't let the chaotic end of Joseph Smith's life translate into a chaotic religion.

The book serves its purpose - narrating the history of Joseph Smith's life. The author, Bushman, seems neutral throughout most of the book. He acknowledges early on that writing a true history about Joseph Smith is an almost impossible task. Defenders of his reputation write from the perspective of believers and disregard any story that finds fault with him. Other biographies are written by non-believers or former believers who have to discount any inspiration he claimed to have. Bushman, a believer but historian, writes Joseph as a prophet who made mistakes. I think that it is a fair assessment.

I started this book a bit nervous about what I would discover. I have never read much about him other than what the church publishes. The only bad stuff I had ever read was on the internet when I'd be searching for a primary sharing time idea. Googling can be dangerous. As I'd start to read, a sick feeling would start in my stomach and I would immediately stop. That was a road I didn't want to go down. I already knew most of the rumors but there aren't many "safe" answers to those questions in church literature. If you are not a church history scholar, chances are you don't know the real history of Joseph Smith. From primary on, we are taught his teachings, his testimonies and recalled versions of his early history. We are given a man who was a charismatic, beloved leader. A man who loved children, had a playful side and willing to suffer any amount of persecution to bring about the full restoration of the gospel of Jesus Christ. After reading this book, I think all of the above descriptions are true. That doesn't seem to be a rosy, post-mortem memory of a man. But he was not perfect and he didn't always do things perfectly. There seems to be two ways of interpreting his mistakes. Either he wasn't a prophet and and the mistakes were a result of a fanatic with the idea of creating an empire and failed due to lack of experience and implementation skill or he was a prophet and tried to carry out the will of God without a full understanding of the revelations at that time. At least that's my interpretation. The revelations he received were not all neatly understood and laid out to him like they are to us in the Doctrine and Covenants. They came and he wouldn't always recognize immediately its meaning or purpose. That's what was the most enlightening to me -- the setting that the prophet was in. What was the feeling and atmosphere during that time? The mood of the people, the religious frenzy, the political climate? Reading this book really helps a person understand the mentality of all involved from the early followers of Mormonism to his persecutors. I'm relieved that after reading this book, my testimony of the prophet is not shaken. The stories of the "bad stuff" did not shake me. In fact, it helped me to understand the prophet even more. I finished this book tonight and I feel melancholy. I hated the frenzy at the end. There was such intense hatred in such normal people. I ache for Emma and her suffering, isolation and loss. I recommend this book to anyone who is curious about Joseph Smith and when and why he did the things he did.