Erin's Book #23: Hotel on the Corner of Bitter and Sweet by Jamie Ford

Okay, so the title's pretty corny. But this is a great story. I had a little bit of trouble getting into it - always enjoyed reading it, but didn't think it was really a must read. Once I got about halfway in, I was much more into it. There was still something about it that didn't blow me away, but I can't put my finger on it. I really did love the story though.

Hotel cuts between recently-widowed Henry in 1986 and 12-year-old Henry in 1942, with the emphasis on young Henry. He is a Chinese-American living in Seattle, going to an all-white school during World War 2. He doesn't fit in anywhere. His closest friend is a black saxophone player/street performer. His parents won't let him speak Cantonese at home, but they don't speak English. His father is obsessed with the war and hates the Japanese with every fiber of his being. His white classmates endlessly torment him. His only ally at school is the lunch lady, Mrs. Beatty, for whom he works as part of his scholarship.

That is, until Keiko arrives. An American who just so happens to be Japanese and also happens to be working in the cafeteria. As the only two Asians (really, non-whites period) at the school, Henry and Keiko quickly bond. Their budding friendship/romance must be kept secret from Henry's controlling father.

As the war goes on, the Japanese become increasingly the enemy, which means that any Japanese-Americans are also the enemy. Forced to leave their homes behind, thousands of Japanese-American families are sent to internment camps, a piece of history I'd either forgotten or never knew. I feel like I've been reading a lot of books lately that don't exactly portray the US in the best light. They've been a sobering reminder of what our country is capable of.

Anyway, Henry and Keiko promise to wait for each other for as long as it takes, until she can return. We know that they don't end up together, as the wife that recently died is named Ethel. But there is a connection to the 1986 story - the Panama Hotel, once the epicenter of Nihonmachi (Seattle's Japan Town). Boarded up during the war, it isn't until '86 that a new owner heads down to the basement and finds what those evacuating Japanese families left behind.

Naturally, the discovery opens up the floodgate of emotions for Henry. I won't reveal any more, but it's truly a beautiful story (and would make a wonderful film!). As always, I enjoyed learning about a part of history I hadn't known of and seeing the tragedy and strength of the Japanese families who were forced to give up all they had and live in stalls formerly reserved for livestock. The young love between Keiko and Henry is much stronger than you would think for that age, yet it seems very real. Hotel is also a coming-of-age story for Henry, as he becomes a man and makes his own decisions, possibly against the wishes of his father.

V's Pick #43: Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince by J.K. Rowling

Somehow I knew Snape was the half-blood before this book even began. Maybe I'm a good detective or maybe Rowling never meant for it not to be easy to guess. However, this book still took me through the process of putting the pieces together which I wouldn't have ever guessed about on my own.

While it houses my favorite scene of all I've read ("The Cove") it was not as enjoyable for me as The Order of the Phoenix. I can't put my fingers on it. I loved the tips through the Penseive more than I'd liked almost any other sub-plot in any other book, but overall, the book left me with a foreboding I wasn't sure about. Unlike the ending of Book 5, this one just felt like I was *supposed* to be sad. I didn't see it coming, nor could I even begin to imagine what would come from it, but I just didn't feel the emotional commitment I think I was supposed to.

Partly, I'd learned by now that I couldn't trust Rowling - not to keep the dead, dead...nor to bring back who I wanted to return instead of who did. The saddest moment of the entire series in my opinion, was Harry losing Sirius and he was the one character who left and didn't come back. In addition, despite being appalled by Snape in this book, something still didn't feel right about hating him. So confused, which I guess, was the point.

V's Pick #42: Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix by J.K. Rowling

This book marked the last departure from a child's story and solidified Rowling's writing more for me than any other book in the series. Finally, I felt like I was reading something meant for me.

From the opening chapter in the flower bed to the very last battle, this book had me at every turn. It's my favorite of them all. I loved walking through #13 with the characters, not knowing if I should trust or dislike Snape, being happy for Harry and Sirius and then, being very sad. I didn't know what to think and I liked that. The introduction of Bellatrix was artfully done, as was the rest of the Black family saga. The Prophecy was something I didn't see coming and while The Order of the Phoenix equally posed as questions as it answered, I didn't mind one bit.

Everyone told me book 5 would make me really angry; maybe it's the undergraduate Lit major in me, but what I loved the most about this book *was* the conflict. Harry in real peril, the evilness of Professor Umbridge, the secrecy of Dumbledore's Army... Anger never found me in reading this book, rather, I appreciated that Rowling had finally started trusting that her readers could handle something more developed than a happy ending.

I'd read 4 and 5 in paperback but while I was holed up on the porch at night reading, John was busy bidding on the remaining copies of the hardcover books he didn't yet have. eBay came through and for under $35, we now own the entire set in pristine hardback, something which I dreaded as Book 6 was so lengthy...but in the end, was quite a nice change from the paperback. In addition, after July 4th I'd accumulated a new list of books I want to read before it's time for school to start again. I thought about taking a Potter break (ha, ha, get it?) but decided I better just get through them all or I'd never go back. I've got a stack of library books sitting in the car waiting for me to get done with one story before starting another and it took all my reading willpower to keep my eyes on Harry...so many books, so little time to read them ALL.

V's Pick #41: Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire by J.K. Rowling

I've read seven years worth of Harry Potter in about a month. And yes, I've still managed to do other things as well. Yikes!

As a result, everything just sort of runs together...so excuse this and following postings for these books being a little short or inconclusive. I'm really SO done with this whole tale.

Don't get me wrong, I'm glad I've devoted part of a summer to what I'm sure will long be a favorite story among children and adults, I just know they were never meant to be read this fast or in such succession.

The Goblet of Fire to me, is where it all started to go downhill, for Harry at least. Cedric dies. The Dark Lord comes back to power. Oh boy, here we go...

The Triwizard Tournament was exciting and I'm really glad Rowling gave us one last really interesting Hogwarts adventure before it all became death and gloom and dying. Also, the introduction of the jealousy between Ron and Herminone, as well as culture of the other schools and Hagrid's little love affair were nice touches. In all, not my favorite book, but worth the 800+ pages.

Erin's Book #22: The Help by Kathryn Stockett

The Help follows three women in Jackson, Mississippi in the 1960s: Aibileen, a middle-aged black maid/nurse, her best friend Minny, and Skeeter, a white college grad. Stockett, who grew up in Mississippi having a black maid of her own, alternates telling the story from the point of view of each. Each woman comes alive through her chapters, though I found that the slang of Aibileen and Minny slowed my reading down considerably.

(Minor spoiler alert!) Skeeter, a budding writer, decides to tackle a secret project - writing a book telling the stories of the maids of Jackson. Working closely with Aibileen, the two recruit a dozen maids to anonymously relay their stories, some good, mostly bad, of working for wealthy white women. It's shocking how similar their experience is to slavery. There are a handful of white women who treat their maids like family, but most of them are quite wretched. They allow them to raise their children, but insist on them using a separate bathroom. They cook all their food, but can't shop in their grocery store. Etc, etc, etc.

Skeeter faces complete societal rejection (her best friends represent the upper crust of Jackson) to take on this book. Aibileen, Minny, and the rest risk their lives to get their stories out there, in the hopes that something will change.

Stockett makes the prejudices and racial tension of a 1960s small Southern town come alive. It's a fascinating portrayal of a town (and a country) in transition, as well as of a young woman rejecting the viewpoint and lifestyle of her peers and family to pursue her own life.

Blythe's Book 32: Committed

I read Eat, Pray, Love, Elizabeth Gilbert's first memoir, a year or two ago and had mixed feelings about it. I think I agreed with most of my fellow book clubbers who thought she was self-indulgent, weepy, and slightly immature. However, I also remember liking her conversational writing style and self-deprecating wit, and relating to some of her desires-- for travel, for romance, and especially for good food. I read about her second memoir, kind of a follow-up to the first, Committed: A Skeptic Makes Peace with Marriage in O magazine's summer reading list and am SO glad I decided to read it. It's funny that Erin recently read a self-help book that escaped the stigmas of being self-help, because that's kind of what Committed is as well. Gilbert and Felipe, her boyfriend (the same one she meets at the end of Eat, Pray, Love), have been happily living in the U.S., surrounded by family and friends, when they discover that they must either marry or Felipe will face deportation. Elizabeth and Felipe are completely committed to one another, but after failed marriages on both sides, are terrified of the idea of legally marrying. So, as they spend the next year abroad, drifting from location to location awaiting the U.S.' approval of their impending marriage (a process which involves a lot of background checks, immigration lawyers, and red tape), Gilbert does what comes naturally: she researches marriage and interviews (okay, interrogates) everyone she can find with different cultural perspectives of marriage, hoping to somehow reconcile herself to what she views as unavoidable, but also completely undesirable. Even though the memoir is technically about Gilbert, it's really about marriage-- its history, its implications, its future, and how it is perceived and experienced in different cultures. I was fascinated by the findings from studies Gilbert shares, the people she encounters and the lessons she learns. I've been married six years, yet could still relate to so many of her fears, and I also learned some valuable lessons that will probably impact the way I view my union. Much of what she wrote was common sense, but it was the type of information where you go, "Oh yeah. I guess I knew that, but I'd kinda forgotten to apply it. Oops." This might be one of those books that I push on all of my unmarried-but-possibly-soon-to-be friends (like, half of my fellow bloggers); there are so many kernels of wisdom and provoking thoughts that impacted the way I think of marriage, and I think this book could benefit anyone entering into marriage.

Some of my favorites (sorry they're long-- Gilbert isn't easy to paraphrase and isn't a one-liner kinda writer):

- After Gilbert asks an old woman in a group of Hmong women when she fell in love with her husbands, and how she "knew it was right," they all burst out laughing at her. Later, Gilbert realizes: "Neither the grandmother nor any other woman in that room was placing her marriage at the center of her emotional biography. In the modern industrialized Western world, where I come from, the person whom you choose to marry is perhaps the single most vivid representation of your own personality . . ." (39). Later, she follows with "My friend the Hmong grandmother had never been taught to expect that her husband's job was to make her abundantly happy. She had never been taught to expect that her task on earth was to become abundantly happy in the first place" (43). Maybe this is a kind of sad notion, but I think it bears considering; if we focus on our expectations for our marriage(those grand plans we've all formulated thanks to media, and the outer appearance of every happy marriage we've seen in real life) rather than what's in front of us, we often end up dissatisfied and bitter. I don't think Gilbert is urging readers to lower our standards, but rather to evaluate the role we expect our spouse to play in our life, and to remove some of the responsibility from his/her shoulders.

- Shirley Glass, a psychologist, has a theory that affairs start when people let a friend of the opposite sex in on a personal marital matter-- thereby creating a "window" where there should be a "wall"; you don't want your spouse to be jealous of this friendship, so you underplay or even hide it, now creating a "wall" where there should be a "window." Soon, "the entire architecture of your marital intimacy has been rearranged. Every old wall is now a giant picture window; every old window is now boarded up like a crack house. You have just established the perfect blueprint for infidelity without even noticing" (109-110). WOW... that makes sense.

- "Whenever I see Felipe fly off the handle in public, it messes around with my cherished personal narrative about what a gentle and tender-hearted guy I have chosen to love, and that, frankly, pisses me off more than anything else. If there is one indignity that I shall never endure gracefully, it is watching people mess around with my most cherished personal narratives about them" (206). LOL. Love that.

- "... my parents weave their own version of the porcupine dance, advancing and retreating on each others' territory, still negotiating, still recalibrating, still working after all these years to find the correct distance between autonomy and cooperation-- seeking a subtle and elusive balance that will somehow keep this strange plot of intimacy growing" (224).

As the title implies, Gilbert does eventually "make peace" with the institution of marriage. And hopefully, with all that she's learned and as far as she's traveled (in multiple ways), this go-around will be filled with as much love, harmony and happiness as one can hope for.

Blythe's Book 31: "The Kids are All Right"

You've probably heard about the upcoming movie, "The Kids are All Right." This book has absolutely NOTHING to do with that movie. I'm still trying to figure out how they came out in the same year without someone suing someone else over the title. With that in mind, there will probably be some disappointed readers and viewers who either go tothe movie or read the book expecting the same plotline. I had no such expectations, and therefore, was free to enjoy this memoir as it was. Amanda, Liz, Dan, and Diana Welch each tell, from their own perspectives (through alternating the author each chapter), the story of their family's experiences from the late '70s til present-day, with the emphasis on the early '80s.
The three eldest Welch children grew up living a privileged life, complete with ponies and country clubs. Their mother was a soap star, their father an "entrepreneur." However, when their father suddenly dies, he leaves behind a pile of debt that forces their mother to reassess the family lifestyle and the children to abandon their carefree existences. It only gets tougher when their mom is diagnosed with cancer. Amanda gets bossier and angrier; Dan turns to drugs; Liz tries to keep everyone together and maintain a "normal" high school experience; and baby Diana is lost in the shuffle. While the story is depressing and full of difficulties (definitely NOT a fun summer read!), I enjoyed learning about the kids as they persevered and learned to value one another above all else.

Erin's Book #21: The Happiness Project by Gretchen Rubin

For one year, Gretchen Rubin attempts to improve her life and make herself happier. After spending several months researching (Rubin is clearly very Type A), she identifies twelve commandments, most notably "Be Gretchen" and "Act the way I want to feel". Each month has a different focus - marriage, parenthood, work, friendship, etc.

It might sound a bit hokey, but I'm now inspired to do my own variation; nothing quite as rigid as this, but I think we can all benefit from trying to be happier. Rubin spends a lot of time contemplating the validity of her quest - is it selfish to focus so much energy on your own happiness? Ultimately she decides that the only way to make others happy is to be happy yourself. "One of the best ways to make yourself happy is to make other people happy. One of the best ways to make other people happy is to be happy yourself."

There's a lot I related to in this book - "Be Gretchen" most significantly so. She likes the idea of certain hobbies more than she enjoys actually participating in them, she doesn't approve of her own music taste, she worries about not feeling legitimate. But as she keeps telling herself, the important thing is to just recognize what she genuinely enjoys and embrace it. I think it can be all too easy to focus on the way we think we should be, without just worrying about how we are.

She takes on a lot of projects, both large and small, tracking her resolutions on a chart as she goes. She writes a novel in a month (based on a book called No Plot, No Problem! which I will most definitely be checking out), takes a drawing class, starts a blog and a children's literature reading group. But she also makes small personal resolutions - learn to laugh (especially at yourself), savor the moment, etc.

The Project is full of great little nuggets. Here are a few of my favorites:

• "There is no love; there are only proofs of love"
• Enjoy the fun of failure
• Imagine the eulogy: how do I want to be remembered?
• "It's easier to complain than to laugh, easier to yell than to joke around, easier to be demanding than to be satisfied." Or in simpler terms, "It's easy to be heavy; hard to be light"

There's a lot to draw on. It's interesting to read about someone else's journey (especially as her's was so fully researched; she could quote someone for nearly every topic she mentions), but mostly it really inspired me to do my own. It's by no means a typical self-help book, if it would fall into that category at all. Perhaps self-exploration would be a better label? Regardless, I'll definitely be starting my own and I look forward to increased happiness!

Erin's Book #20: Little Bee by Chris Cleave

In lieu of an actual synopsis, the back of Little Bee reads, "This is the story of two women. Their lives collide one fateful day, and one of them has to make a terrible choice, the kind of choice we hope you never have to face. Two years later, they meet again - the story starts there... Once you have read it, you'll want to tell your friends about it. When you do, please don't tell them what happens. The magic is in how the story unfolds."

Intriguing, no? Only Little Bee doesn't quite live up to all that hype. The story follows a British magazine editor named Sarah and a 16-year-old Nigerian refugee named Little Bee. Their history is revealed slowly. The chapters alternate between Sarah and Little Bee, each woman's story sometimes jumping around in time, but not in a confusing way at all. We learn early on that Little Bee met Sarah and her husband on a beach in Nigeria and something tragic and presumably life-altering happens, though we aren't sure what.

I wish the publishers hadn't built it up so much. It was sort of like the book version of an M. Night Shyamalan film, where you know there's going to be a big twist so you keep looking for it and it usually doesn't measure up to the expectations. It's pretty easy to figure out the gist of what happened and while it is shocking to actually hear the story, it's not altogether surprising. More details emerge as the story moves on and I certainly didn't see all of them coming.

Some of the implicit issues/ideas are interesting. Much of the plot is very cause-and-effect. Each of Sarah's decisions directly lead to the next event and so on, so if one of those things had happened differently, she and Little Bee would never have crossed paths. I didn't really think of this until later, but, keeping in mind our current immigration debate, Little Bee is a great reminder that we never know what people are running from and what might happen to them if they're forced to return to the country they fled.

Altogether, I enjoyed this book immensely. I think it's the first book I've ever taken to the gym and tried to read on the elliptical so I wouldn't feel guilty about needing to finish it at 11:00 on a Wednesday. Cleave builds the suspense naturally without it being overkill, so I think the publisher's note on the back is unnecessary and detrimental. It's an intriguing story and again, I learned about a place with which I wasn't familiar (Nigeria and the bloody war for oil). Worth reading, but not earth-shattering. And certainly not as light as the cover might indicate.

Blythe's Book 30: The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao

The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao, by Junot Diaz, tells the tale of Oscar Cabral, an American-born Dominican whose family is haunted by a fuku, or curse of the worst kind. Oscar's takes the form of perpetual heartbreak; he is obese, nerdy to the extreme, and obsessed with every woman who walks by. On his way to becoming the forty-year-old virgin, he fills his life with roleplaying games, sci-fi movies, daydreaming about women, and writing, his four great passions. As the narrative follow Oscar's life, Diaz also spins the tale of Oscar's mother and sister's lives. This book won the Pulitzer Prize, which leaves me a little surprised. I really liked it, but I've read better books that have received less praise. I think it might have won because of Diaz's style; he has this really fresh, conversational way of writing that I thoroughly enjoyed. The only issue, for me, is that he intersperses Spanish sayings to the point where I wasn't always be sure what he was saying; the context didn't always provide enough clues, which was annoying.
What I loved about this book: the funny sci-fi, fantasy, and comic book allusions (even though I probably only understood a quarter of them); all of the information about the Dominican Republic's history (specifically the time when Trujillo was in power); the story Diaz wove; and, most of all, the overall themes of family ties, one's roots, and destiny. Try as Oscar, his mother, and his sister might to leave the DR behind them, they are undeniably, and uncontrollably, connected to the island. Even though each goes through their own personal diasporas, none of the Cabrals can outrun their history, or their fates, but can only, as Oscar learns, go forward and focus on finding "The beauty! The beauty!" of a life dedicated to pursuing love.

Erin's Book #19: The Lacuna by Barbara Kingsolver

Before this blog, I knew nothing of this book. I had heard the name Barbara Kingsolver, but only in association with Animal, Vegetable, Miracle. I had no idea she wrote fiction until reading Pam's and then Blythe's posts about The Lacuna.

Seeing as how they both gushed about it, I figured I probably should add it to my list. I'm so glad I did.

Since they've both wrote extensively about it, I'll be brief. The Lacuna follows Harrison Shepherd, a young boy growing up in Mexico with his man/money-chasing mother who ends up working many years for Frida Kahlo and Diego Rivera, as well as Lev Trotsky, before finally setting in North Carolina where he becomes a successful writer.

Some books you read and think it's a nice story or it's well written. And then other books you know you're in the presence of a WRITER. Barbara Kingsolver is such a person. I was perpetually in awe of her craftsmanship, her characters, her storytelling, her language... It's a beautiful book.

I'm partial to fictional stories that involve real characters, so the Kahlo/Rivera/Trotsky storyline was a treat. It's a beautiful character study as well, told through Harrison's journals and letters. We see him grow up and assume his place in the world, instead of being an observer in it.

Much of the book is about the Red Scare, a topic which is always of interest to me. Harrison is a completely innocent victim of it and it's tragic to see the country he loves build him up and make him famous, only to then take everything away from him. Both Pam and Blythe have already commented on Kingsolver's attack on the media - the point being that they want to sell newspapers, not report the news. We'd like to hope we've changed since those days, but of course not everything we read is true. One of the most telling scenes is one where an outlandish lie is reported about Harrison and he and his stenographer wait for the inevitable phone calls from the rest of the media to check the fact. Only the calls never come. Not a single one.

A beautiful book about a man coming into his own, his adoptive "family" and country, and the country that turned its back on him out of ignorant fear (as one character says, "Anti-communism has nothing to do with communism"). Consider me a Kingsolver devotee.

Blythe's Book 29: Never Let Me Go

Here I am, snotting all over myself, trying to unravel my feelings about a book that has ME feeling quite unraveled, in truth. Kazuo Ishiguro's Never Let Me Go has really gotten to me... and I'm not sure why. I was talking to Vanessa about it today, saying I wasn't even all that sure I liked it; however, on completion, I am so glad I read it. I can't say much about it without giving away the plot (which Ishiguro slowly doles out in the most controlled way), but this is basically the story of three very unique children who grow up in a British boarding school. In many ways, their paths have been determined for them-- but they've been left in the dark about this, and living through their innocence, hopes, and love is a beautiful, albeit extraordinarily painful, experience. Like I already mentioned, Ishiguro doesn't lay all his cards on the table early on; right until the last few pages, you're left wondering along with Kathy, Tommy, and Ruth how they are different, and what life holds for them. Part of me was SO frustrated by the secrets, but it made the experience that much more spellbinding. Do I recommend this book? I'm not sure-- it's memorable and thought-provoking, but the heartbreak I felt throughout the second half put me through the wringer.