Category: What I’m Reading

My Goodreads and Amazon review of Saving Face: A Memoir by Effy Redman (Rating 5) – Guilty Expressions. I couldn’t help but feel guilty each time my face expressed the emotions that overcame me as I read Saving Face: A Memoir by Effy Redman. Redman was born with a rare condition of facial paralysis called Moebius Syndrome. The disability affects her mouth, rendering it immobile, and eyelids, which she cannot fully close. So, whenever I smiled in response to her tender childhood memories, curled my lips in anger at those who teased her, or crinkled my eyes in gratitude at her mother’s unwavering support, I was acutely self-conscious that my face could show emotions that Redman’s disability makes impossible. She’s denied a form of communication we take for granted. Redman grew up not only hiding her feelings from others, but also from herself. Saving Face is a moving narrative of her struggle to find self-acceptance. More than that, it is her journey to find self-affirmation for her inner and outer beauty. Redman’s recollections brought to mind two classics of children’s literature. Her fascination at age ten with folding origami swans evoked memories of Hans Christian Anderson’s story “The Ugly Duckling,” a misfit waterfowl who grows up to be a beautiful swan. And I thought of E. B. White’s book, The Trumpet of the Swan, the story of a trumpeter swan born without a voice who overcomes his disability by learning to play a trumpet. Likewise, Redman finds creative ways to express herself, as a ballet dancer whose body moves with grace, and as a writer who communicates the feelings her mouth cannot. As a writer myself (see my Amazon author page and Goodreads author page), I share with Redman the inner grin that comes when the “right” words magically appear on the page. By the end of the book, my guilt at taking my facial muscles for granted was replaced by admiration for Redman, who has opened herself to others and above all, to the possibilities within herself.

A courageous journey navigating disability

Why writers read: “Why are we reading, if not in hope of beauty laid bare, life heightened and its deepest mystery probed?” – Annie Dillard

My Goodreads and Amazon review of The Vulnerables by Sigrid Nunez (Rating 5) – Pandemic Pals. The Vulnerables by Sigrid Nunez is a pandemic novel in which the vulnerables are NOT those most likely to succumb to the virus, but physically and financially robust people who were isolated and alienated before the lockdown. The book focuses on three characters who share a sumptuous NYC apartment: a blocked middle-aged novelist (the unnamed narrator who is an undisguised stand-in for the author); a handsome and playful if not very talkative parrot, Eureka, for whom she house-sits; and a privileged college drop-out she calls “Vetch” who’s been kicked out by his parents and struggles with a history of mental illness. Plot-wise, nothing much happens, just as one would expect in an uncrowded space occupied by beings with no emotional connection to one another. In literary-speak, the stakes are low. And yet the unfolding non-drama is thoroughly absorbing. The narrator’s random memories and observations reflect a state of mind that so many of us experienced during the pandemic. As a fiction writer myself (see my Amazon author page and Goodreads author page), I admire Nunez’s talent for capturing the interior life of a solitary character in such an active and interactive way. Like her, even after the extreme impact of COVID has passed, we’re still left wondering what it meant, how it will continue to dominate our self-worth and world view, and how vulnerable we all are to another major bout of disruption. Nunez offers no answers, but her book provides good company as we muddle through.

Ruminations on the inescapable impact of COVID lockdown

Why writers read: “A good book is an event in my life.” – Stendhal

My Amazon and Goodreads review of Jazzed by Jill Dearman (Rating 5) – Note Perfect. Awkward Wilhelmina (Will) is obsessed with social butterfly Dolly. Both girls are talented musicians, Will on clarinet, Dolly on piano. Dolly is turned on by jazz and crime; Will is turned on by jazz and Dolly. In a master-slave lesbian relationship, that occasionally turns the tables, Dolly blows hot and cold while Will boils with desire and freezes with the fear of desertion. To guarantee the erratic Dolly’s love, the compliant Will agrees to do anything, even murder a fourteen-year-old boy. Thus unfolds a gender-bending version of the scandalous 1924 Leopold and Loeb case. Dearman captures the Zeitgeist of the era — prohibition, antisemitism, social snobbery, homophobia, and the perceived threat of “Negro music.” The writing is itself a riff on jazz, at times syncopated and lively, at other times sustained and lugubrious. Like jazz artists, the protagonists trade solos, then meld their sounds. As a fiction writer myself (see my Amazon author page and Goodreads author page), I admire the fluidity with which Dearman shifts between styles as smoothly as a versatile musician. She takes us into the minds of her fully developed, complex characters, while also portraying their families’ social status, the legal system that traps them, and the medical establishment that purports to “treat” their sexual deviance. Jazzed is a note-perfect novel.

A gender-bending twist on an infamous crime story

Why writers read: “Reading is an exercise in empathy; an exercise in walking in someone else’s shoes for a while.” – Malorie Blackman

My Goodreads and Amazon review of Day: A Novel by Michael Cunningham (Rating 5) – Ourselves, Only More So. Day: A Novel by Michael Cunningham tracks the lives of a family and its satellites — five adults and three children in all — on the same April date in three consecutive years: 2019, 2020, and 2021, before, during, and after the height of the pandemic. Compared to many people, they are not very inconvenienced. One is tempted to dismiss them as self-absorbed middle class New Yorkers, yet Cunningham persuades us that these well-intentioned lost souls are worth our compassion. The narrative is very interior; Cunningham probes the minds of each character, child as well as adult, and excavates their often incompatible desires. As a novelist myself who uses multiple points of view (see my Amazon author page and Goodreads author page, I admire Cunningham’s ability to make each voice unique. I was particularly struck by the author’s choice to make the children, rather than the adults, ruminate about death. For children, life itself merits investigation, so death is no different. Adults, aware that their time on earth is ebbing, dare not dwell on its demise. By the book’s end, the world has changed, each person’s situation has changed, yet their relationships to work, home, and one another remain an unchanging loop. Time moves on, day to day and year to year, yet we remain who we are, only more so.

Eight characters, three years, one pandemic

Why writers read: “Many people, myself among them, feel better at the mere sight of a book.” – Jane Smiley

My Goodreads and Amazon review of Family Lore by Elizabeth Acevedo (Rating 3) – For Insiders Only. Family Lore by Elizabeth Acevedo is the story of four Dominican sisters and two of their daughters. Men are tangential and, with one or two exceptions, not worth the trouble they cause. The six women propel the narrative, from their public gifts to their private parts. They make inspired pronouncements and unabashedly pleasure themselves. One sister foresees death in her dreams, another’s inner radar detects dishonesty, a third makes healing concoctions, and the fourth, lacking magical powers, channels the world’s pulse through dancing. The plot is driven by the second oldest sister’s decision to have a living wake. While she’s in good health; she’s determined to celebrate her life with her loved ones before she dies. The book’s chronology charts each woman’s actions and feelings before, during, and after this event. Their relationships to one another and to their heritage form the book’s substance. This is rich territory, yet I never fully immersed myself in the landscape. I repeatedly had to remind myself who was who. While the women’s individual stories are engaging, Acevedo fails to weave the intricate web of their “family” connections. Nor does Acevedo convey the “lore” of Dominican culture. She uses Spanish words without enough context for non-speakers to understand their meaning. As writer myself (see my Amazon author page and Goodreads author page), I take pains to avoid distancing readers from my characters in this way. I came to Family Lore eager to be welcomed into an intriguing family and be introduced to an underrepresented culture. Instead I often felt excluded from a narrative that was “for insiders only.” If I were invited to the wake, I would have nothing to say.

Women drive the narrative in this Dominican family

Why writers read: “There is no frigate like a book to take us lands away.” – Emily Dickinson

My Goodreads and Amazon review of The Shape of Normal: A Memoir of Motherhood, Disability & Embracing a Different Kind of Perfect by Catherine Shields (Rating 5) – Holding On, Letting Go. I approached The Shape of Normal: A Memoir of Motherhood, Disability & Embracing a Different Kind of Perfect by Catherine Shields from four perspectives: a reader; a writer (see my Amazon author page and Goodreads author page; a developmental psychologist specializing in early education; and a (grand)parent who wants those I love to get the best and be their best. Shields more than satisfied me on all those dimensions. Her memoir is an unstintingly honest, emotionally absorbing, and deeply personal narrative. It directly addresses the pros and cons of the educational, medical, and social-psychological systems designed to meet the needs of children with disabilities and their families. Above all, it invites readers to accompany Shields on her journey of discovery about her amazing daughter Jessica and, above all, herself. She doesn’t shy away from confronting the strains that having a child with disabilities places on a marriage and other siblings. Nor does she gloss over her own self-doubt, impatience, and anger. Shields hiked an uphill path, toting an image of what her child should be before letting go and accepting who she was. A good trekker, Shields faced each mile with better developed muscles and more inner strength. Then she wrote a perfect book.

A mother’s honest story of her journey to acceptance

Why writers read: “Books help us understand who we are and how we are to behave. They show us how to live and die.” – Anne Lamott

My Amazon and Goodreads review of Tom Lake by Ann Patchett (Rating 4) – Four on the Aisle. In Ann Patchett’s novel Tom Lake, three rapt daughters urge their mother, Lara, to tell them about her early days as an actress while they pick cherries on the family farm in northern Michigan. Patchett’s narrative shifts smoothly between youth’s infatuation and midlife’s contentment. As a writer of multi-generational novels (see my Amazon author page and Goodreads author page), I admire her cross-age agility. Unfortunately, Patchett is less facile differentiating between the daughters, other than identifying them as the horticulturist, the veterinarian, and would-be actress. Lara’s beloved husband is also a cipher. And her fellow actors in Our Town, the Thornton Wilder play whose wistfulness infuses the novel, are briefly interesting as characters, but never emerge as people. Perhaps this indistinctness is the inevitable result of a narrative dominated by the storyteller mother. I wondered whether Patchett, herself a storyteller, wanted to be Lara, swept up in a whirlwind youth before happily settling into writing and owning a bookstore. If so, I get it. As I read Tom Lake, I spun my own “back in the day” story for my daughter and grandsons. I expect other readers will do the same. I hope they’re satisfied with the tales they tell themselves, because Patchett’s, while entertaining, does not merit a standing ovation when the curtain comes down.

A novel infused with the wistfulness of “Our Town”

Why writers write: “Why am I compelled to write? Because the world I create compensates for what the real world does not give me.” – Gloria E. Anzaldúa

My Amazon and Goodreads review of Never Simple: A Memoir by Liz Scheier (Rating 4) – Ambivalent. Grieving the death of a parent with whom one had fraught relationship is harder than the “clean” mourning that follows the end of a primarily loving one. In Never Simple: A Memoir, Liz Scheier tries to come to terms with a mother who smothered her with love, but was also physically and emotionally abusive, a liar (including about who Liz’s father was), financially dependent, combative, and eventually afflicted with dementia. I read the book with personal interest. My mother, while not physically abusive, was in most other ways a replica of Judith Scheier. I also read it as a writer (see my Amazon author page and Goodreads author page), looking for the narrative’s literary arc. My reaction to the book, like Liz’s feelings toward her mother, was “ambivalent.” On the downside, Scheier presents her own life in repetitive detail, sacrificing the book’s momentum in her attempts to convince readers of her unfair treatment. We get it; no reruns needed. On the upside, in the final chapter, after her mother dies, Scheier empathically recognizes, “She was both dealt a bad hand and played that hand badly.” Of their relationship, she concludes, “You can still love someone who has caused you a lot of harm.” Never Simple is both an accusation and an absolution. When life’s injustice meets mental illness, it is indeed “never simple.”

A fraught mother-daughter relationship

Why writers read: “Reading makes me feel like I’ve accomplished something, learned something, become a better person.” – Nora Ephron

My Amazon and Goodreads review of The Heaven & Earth Grocery Store by James McBride (Rating 3) – Cluttered. The Heaven and Earth Grocery Store by James McBride is the story of pre-WWII Chicken Hill, a poor area in Pottstown, Pennsylvania inhabited by Jews and Negroes. Among the “good” Jews are Chona, the generous proprietress of the title establishment, and her open-minded husband, Moshe, a theater entrepreneur. Among the “good” Negroes are Nate, a hard-working man with a past, and his good-hearted and loyal wife Addie, who have taken in Dodo, their bright but deaf orphaned nephew who the State wants to cart off to an “educational” mental institution. The town itself harbors many “bad” bigots, most notably the despised but powerful Doc Roberts. The collusion of Negroes and Jews to save Dodo drives the story, but what should be a propulsive tale is instead a novel cluttered with less-than-minor characters, confusing plot fragments, and digressions that merely show off the author’s wit. McBride needs an editor with the chutzpah to tell him to cut three-quarters of the self-indulgent prose. As a novelist myself (see my Amazon author page and Goodreads author page), I’ve learned that at least ninety-percent of the fascinating (to me) information I discover in my research should remain in my notes. Facts serve fiction when they further character and plot. Otherwise, they belong in engaging nonfiction tracts. The Heaven & Earth Grocery Store is somewhat redeemed by the touching Epilogue, but it doesn’t justify the hours spent reading what precedes it. If you enjoyed McBride’s Deacon King Kong, you’ll probably like The Heaven & Earth Grocery Store. If, like me, you were irritated by the former, I expect you’ll be impatient with his latest book too.

A community unites to save a boy

Why writers read: “My alma mater was books, a good library I could spend the rest of my life reading, just satisfying my curiosity.” – Malcolm X

My Amazon and Goodreads review of Cloud Cuckoo Land by Anthony Doerr (Rating 5) – The Story of a Story. Although I bought Cloud Cuckoo Land by Anthony Doerr soon after it was published, I intended to wait before reading it. Having been awed by All the Light We Cannot See, as both a reader and fiction writer (see my Amazon author page and Goodreads author page, I was saving Cloud Cuckoo Land to prolong the anticipation of being wowed again. But when I discovered that Doerr would be speaking in the college town where I live in a couple of weeks, I decided to read it before his talk. I got only halfway through before his lecture, because reading this book cannot be rushed. It is meant to be ingested slowly. The novel alternates between five characters (six if you count the Greek figure from whose tale the book’s title is derived) and three eras, from the distant past to the not-so-distant future. With intricate plotting, atypical characters, and an erudition that reflects his insatiable curiosity, Doerr builds the connections between them. Despite humanity’s tragedies — from ancient wars to present day environmental destruction — Doerr salvages hope, and reminds us of the power of storytelling.

Storytelling at its most captivating

Why writers read: “Why are we reading, if not in hope of beauty laid bare, life heightened and its deepest mystery probed?” – Annie Dillard