The Last Runaway

Dear Reader,

How fitting to end last summer's reading season with a Chevalier novel and to begin this season with another one of her books. If only this novel had the simple yet surprisingly strong structure of "Girl with a Pearl Earring." The premise of "The Last Runaway" is intriguing: young Honor Bright, jilted shortly before her marriage, eagerly leaves England with her sister to begin a new life in 1850's Ohio. En route, Honor's sister dies of yellow fever. Honor, with a heavy heart, continues on to the Midwest to deliver the sad news to her sister's waiting fiance.

The novel had incredible potential. The first 3 or 4 chapters are fascinating-the reader learns the basics of Quaker beliefs (such as the great value placed on quietude) and what life might have been like for a nineteenth century Englishwoman out of place and unwanted in her would-be brother-in-law's home.

Unfortunately, the novel's structure becomes progressively sloppy in its effort to educate the reader on several subjects at once. By the last few chapters, Chevalier crams so many details about disparate subjects (the Quaker faith, various quilting patterns, Ohio's underground railroad) that the central conflict-Honor trying to find a permanent home & sense of self-becomes hazy if not lost altogether. Obviously, Chevalier did a tremendous amount of research as indicated by the extensive "Acknowledgements" page. Research, however, never did guarantee a strong narrative. I would argue that this novel was hobbled rather than buoyed by her efforts.

song on iTunes: What'll I Do? by Judy Garland

Girl with a Pearl Earring

Dear Reader,

I have read Tracey Chevalier's "Girl with a Pearl Earring." And, indeed, there is a bit of magic in it. One walks the streets of 17th century Delph, Holland. Past the canals, the narrow buildings, and the Protest churches with little decoration. There was a particularly moving symbol in the eight-pointed star in the middle of the town square.

The narrator Griet, a young woman forced to take a job as a maid after her father is seriously injured, often visits the square. She walks around the outline of the eight-pointed square when pondering serious decisions. Griet realizes an individual does not generally chose between two things but many things, even as many as eight. In reviewing my own life, I recognize I am deciding between eight, as well.

song on iTunes: Lighthouse by The Hush Sound

We Need to Talk About Kevin, Seek My Face, A Town Like Alice

Dear Reader,

I have read three books this past autumn about which I would like to briefly journal now. These are three very different stories. About the only thing they have in common is a shared language-English. Sometimes I see a glowing thread of commonality between two of them. This, of course, inevitably leaves a third out in the cold.

One thing I can write about each is that an intelligent female character, unafraid to face unkind facts, forms the central character. These are: Eva Khatchadourian-"We Need to Talk About Kevin", Hope Chafetz-"Seek My Face", and Jean Paget-"A Town Like Alice."

As aforementioned, each of these women is uncommonly intelligent. Eva has a spine of steel which is a necessity in her bi-weekly visits to an incarcerated teenage son. Hope Chafetz is a dreamer, painter, and romantic which leads her through 3 marriages to major players in the art world. Jean Paget is an unflinchingly hard worker and problem-solver during the Malaysian death march of WWII.

Honestly? Eva and her ferocious, witty discussions with son Kevin leave the other two in the dust.

song on iTunes: Danse Macabre, Op. 40 by Charles Dutoit & Philharmonia Orchestra

The Stranger

Upon the recommendation of my fabulous studio art instructor, I have at last read Albert Camus's The Stranger. She asked me to read it and take note of the narrator, Meursault's, response to daily life. My teacher seemed turned off by his lack of emotional engagement-particullarly during his mother's funeral.

What can I say about Mersault? Is it wrong to that I adore him? Well, I do. This is the character for which I have spent 29 years looking. Meursault is the least self-centered narrator I have ever encountered. He does not whine, does not drown in self-reflection, and does not constantly judge the people he comes in contact with (Holden Caulfield, anyone??).

Meursault is singularly visceral-caring only about the temperature outside, the quality of food he is eating, and sleeping with his girlfriend Marie. His pleasure is derived entirely from the physical world, particularly sunlight and the ocean. He takes no pleasure in engaging with others emotionally. Meursault's quietude is at long last shattered when a sympathetic priest promises to pray for him. The narrator becomes hysterical and insists he has no need of spiritual support. He argues that it is the priest who, by only embracing the ethereal, is living a hollow life: "He wasn't even sure if he was alive, because he was living like a dead man. Whereas it looked like I was the one who came up empty-handed."

My dear Meursault is executed at the end of the novel. But, on an evening shortly before his death, he embraces life beyond the bars: "Smells of night, earth, and salt air were cooling my temples."

song on iTunes: Any Colour You Like by Pink Floyd

The Violent Bear it Away

Mary Flannery O’Connor. Let's make one thing clear. I love you. You had glasses, arm braces, and were an awkward wallflower. I had glasses, was heavy, and was not a wallflower (but probably should have been for all the comfort my awkward chatter could provide). Flannery O’Connor gave me tangible refuge during my last years of high school. Mr. Jones, my eleventh grade English teacher from Georgia, taught her with an admirable commitment. We were in Chicago but we were going to read a Southern writer. Case closed. And how grateful I was after reading “The Life You Save May Be Your Own,” “Greenleaf,” and THE perfect “A Good Man is Hard to Find.” How expertly she depicted her peculiar world of South Catholicism, with dual devotion and contempt. How Mormonism needs a Flannery O’Connor!

That being said .. Flannery.. “The Violent Bear It Away” was one of the most labored, interminable novels I have read in my life. Completely unendearing characters and wicked irony work well in 10 to 15 pages. But 250 pages is nothing short of intolerable when you have to live with these characters on your pillow case, grasping for something (ANYTHING!) endearing or even interesting about them. Young Tarwarter, The Schoolteacher, and Bishop were each wholly unrelatable and dogmatic. Was I supposed to be feel something when each met a dismal fate? Was being victimized (in some cases, brutally) supposed to add depth to otherwise contemptible characters? I just did not buy it. If you need me, I will be in a cozy chair curled up with “Fifty Short Stories by Flannery O’Connor.”

Song on iTunes: Stuck in the Middle with You by Three Dog Night

We Have Always Lived in the Castle

Dear Reader,

Charlotte Gray, that great Canadian author, once said: "You can kid the world, but not your sister." And she's right. Sisters understand us in a way that no one else can really broach. They have been with us through experiences that even our parents have only guessed at. When I think of my own relationship with my sister, it is a personal and significant one. She was there. She was there when I went through menarche and suddenly in unexpected pain, sobbing. She was a shoulder to cry on when the dreaded first boyfriend dumped me. She watched me walk across the stage at Brigham Young University. And I watched her walk across that same stage 9 years earlier. I watched as her best friend in high school wordlessly ended their friendship. I was her maid of honor when she married a wonderful man. The truth of the matter is, we respect each other's scars and celebrate each other's golden moments.

Shirley Jackson's "We Have Always Lived in the Castle" is the story of two sisters (young adults) who live secluded in a dilapidated mansion along with an invalid uncle. The sisters are utterly untrusted by the neighboring villagers, and perhaps with good reason. Their family (parents, a brother, and an aunt) were gruesomely poisoned at the dinner table years before the novel begins. It is a very chilling story about the nature of sisterly love and devotion, perfect for a rainy afternoon.

song on iTunes: Cinder and Smoke by Iron and Wine

The Talented Mr. Ripley

Dear Reader,

I want an iPod Touch. I want an MBA. I want to be a CFO. I want an iPad. I want a Blu-ray dvd player. I want a PhD in Art History--summa cum laude naturally. I want a BMW--hybrid naturally. I want to pre-order a Blackberry Storm 3. I want a condo on the beach. I want a perfect score on the GRE. I want an associate professorship. I want a flat screen with DVR. And I want it all yesterday.

Have you ever thought about envy? About what it does to us, I mean? "The Talented Mr. Ripley," first published in 1955, is 50 years ahead of its time in this regard. It chronicles a small group of wealthy, twenty-something American ex-pats and their exploits during one year in Italy. Everyone who lives in this world lives large. Villas in the countryside, dining out every night, swimming in the ocean/sunbathing on the beach, excursions to other cities, shopping, and (of course) romantic trysts with each other.

They are completely blissful until Tom Ripley arrives. He is broke, lower class, from Boston. He isn't educated and he isn't much. But there is something charming about him, endearing even. He eventually joins this group of wealthy peers, fascinated by their large inheritances and Ivy League educations. As much as they like Tom, however, he never truly fits in. I couldn't stop reading as Tom falls in love with these people and observe as his anger rises and rises and rises. Finally, he erupts into violence against someone who essentially challenges his social validity and wants to expel him from the group.

Which begs the question: how far would you go for an iPod Touch? For that PhD in Psychology?

song on iTunes: Here Comes Success by Iggy Pop