Category: What I’m Reading

My Goodreads and Amazon review of French Braid by Anne Tyler (Rated 4) – Form Follows Function. French Braid, the title of Anne Tyler’s latest novel, refers to the structure of the book as well as the nature of families. A French braid is constructed by plaiting a handful of tresses and working your way along the scalp, adding others to create one multi-level integrated structure. The more you add, the sturdier the braid, with thicker hairs holding thinner ones in place. Such is the nature of four generations of the Garrett family, their forebears, and those who will follow. They don’t always agree with, understand, or even like, one another, but they are nonetheless interwoven. This theme is perhaps best illustrated in the recurring scenes of children bringing their “intended” spouses home to meet their parents and siblings. Approval is not required but the ritual must be observed. It is in capturing the small details of family life — both intimacies and irritations — that Tyler excels. The Garretts are essentially well meaning, if occasionally clueless, people. In other words, they’re your average American family. Readers will warm to them, some individuals more than others, and not always the ones you initially expect to take a shine to. My only criticism is that it is sometimes hard to keep the cousins straight; some are mere wisps and their nature, like fly-away hairs, don’t add to the braid. As a novelist myself (see my Amazon author page and Goodreads author page), I wish Tyler had given these secondary characters more substance or snipped them out altogether. Wisps aside, French Braid is a small but satisfying novel with deep and enduring truths about the strands that inevitably draw families together.

Plaited people in plaited chapters

Why writers read: “If I could always read I should never feel the want of company.” – Lord Byron

My Goodreads and Amazon review of Laughing in Her Sleep by Alycia and Jon Vreeland (Rated 5) – Laughing in Heaven. There are two ways to read Jon Vreeland’s poems in Laughing in Her Sleep: One at a time or via total immersion. Either way, pause over the penetrating illustrations by Alycia Vreeland. Unlike her colorful paintings, her line drawings are as dark and dense as Jon’s poems. Some are as whimsical as his words. Jon is obsessed with Death and Drugs (D & D). Some poems surrender to the depths; others are aspirational. Jon reaches for something better or (literally) higher. His judgements are harsh (especially toward himself) but his sympathies are generous. He can also be very funny! Jon sees, hears, and smells beauty as well as ugliness. Wherever he aims his senses, Jon doesn’t shy away from life’s crazy mixture. As a prose fiction writer (see my Amazon author page and Goodreads author page), I revere Jon’s storytelling talents. Each poem has a setting, salient details, and characters whose interactions are “small” but never insignificant. Jon imbues them with meaning, be they comforting or confrontational. His self-written obituary is as refreshingly arrogant as Jon himself, according him the glory he wasn’t granted in life, except by those who knew and loved him. And for whom, if not them, is the obit written? I won’t comment on the life review that ends the book (since I compiled it) except to say I was honored to be asked and entrusted with the precious memories his family and friends shared. Jon’s death is both a personal and a literary loss. We are fortunate his words live on. I trust he and Hemingway are laughing together in writers’ heaven.

Wrenching words, penetrating pictures

Why writers read: “Read to make yourself smarter! Less judgmental. More apt to understand your friends’ insane behavior, or better yet, your own.” – John Waters

My Goodreads and Amazon review of Baby Darlin’: A Graphic Memoir by Alycia Vreeland (Rated 5) – Raw and Righteous. Baby Darlin’ (BD) grows up in a house full of shit. Literally and figuratively. BD wants to love, to be loved, but is betrayed time and again by those she trusts. Her mother is sick in the head. Papa is kind and funny, but he isn’t around. Grandpa is interesting. He is a painter and BD wants to be a painter too. But Grandpa is also crazy. Grandma is a devout Catholic who shames BD. Only BD’s older cousin, Willy, loves her. She will do whatever he tells her, especially drink. It tastes awful, so she washes it down with root beer. And alcohol makes BD feel great, even if it also makes her throw up. BD also has a secret friend, Ayne de Blu, who “disappears” BD’s body when Pig, who is even grosser than his name, assaults her. Ayne tells BD everything will be OK. But everything is not OK. BD’s drinking becomes uncontrollable. The worst: She loses her son. Things get better when BD meets Jon, the love of her life. He’s a drug addict trying to kick his habit; she’s an alcoholic trying to stay sober. BD suffers unbearable losses: her cousin, her son, her mother, and then Jon. How will she survive? Alone? But she is not alone. BD discovers a Higher Power. But, to this reviewer, the power also resides within BD herself, in the woman named Alycia Vreeland. Telling her saga, Vreeland outs the truth of an abused child in graphic language and painful pictures. As writer myself (see my Amazon author page and Goodreads author page), I admire Vreeland’s courage writing this unrelentingly honest memoir. BD, her alter-ego, does not mince words. She makes readers cringe. We should. She makes us cry. We should. BD provokes outrage. Bravo for her. Listen to her voice; see her in these bold images. Read Baby Darlin’ with a strong stomach and a big heart. Surrender to the power of this amazing book.

A graphic memoir of child abuse

Why writers read: “Books are people who have managed to stay alive by hiding between the covers of a book.” – E. B. White

My Goodreads and Amazon review of Fire Exit by Morgan Talty (Rated 5) – Identity Crises. Fire Exit by Morgan Talty argues that we are all entitled to know our past, even if the truth is disorienting. Learning the whole story may fill in missing parts or provoke unasked questions. In Fire Exit, the issue is especially fraught because it deals with identity, namely the right to claim Native American identity if, lurking unbeknownst to a child raised as a full Indian, is a father’s non-native identity. Charles, the protagonist, was raised on the Penobscot reservation by his non-native mother and Indian stepfather with full knowledge of his story. He feels his daughter, conceived with his high school Penobscot girlfriend and now fully grown, is entitled to hers. The girl’s mother and indigenous husband, who raised the girl as his own, object. Entangled in Charles’s urge to tell his daughter her blood story is that his own mother’s memory is growing porous with Alzheimer’s. Moreover, he’s plagued by guilt that preoccupation with the girls’ birth kept him from preventing his stepfather’s death decades earlier. Fire Exit is replete with grief, remorse, mental illness, alcoholism, and death. Yet, the novel is not wholly bleak and morbid. On the contrary, Talty’s ineradicable faith in filial devotion and commitment to personal history is ultimately uplifting. As a writer myself (see my Amazon author page and Goodreads author page), I admire his refusal to shy away from difficult subjects with debatable answers. Fire Exit will make readers question their own stories. Warning: The choice not to know the truth comes at a price.

The benefits and costs of unknown identity

Why writers read: “To acquire the habit of reading is to construct for yourself a refuge from almost all the miseries of life.” – W. Somerset Maugham

My Goodreads and Amazon review of The Anthropologists by Aysegul Savas (Rated 3) – Bumpless. The Anthropologists by Aysegul Savas is a quiet book about the small pleasures of a self-contained couple. Asya and her partner Manu, each from different countries and living in yet a third country, are outsiders content to dwell inside their own relationship. They’ve even invented a tribal name and private language. Although they work — she as a documentary film maker, he at an unspecified nonprofit — there’s no passion behind their labors. Friends are satellites, one of whom orbits closely, but the others are props in the twosome’s routines. A plot, if one can be said to exist, is their search for a new apartment. They struggle to find one they like because they are too comfortable to imagine inhabiting a different space. Like anthropologists, Asya and Manu observe and occasionally join the action, but nothing penetrates their insular cocoon. Savas will convince some readers that a life lived this way, without conflict and drama, but also minus joy and excitement, is enough. It’s a reassuring message in a hectic world. Yet I found myself seeking more. A character-driven novelist myself (see my Amazon author page and Goodreads author page) , I nevertheless choose to invest my characters’ lives with significant events and challenges. Savas’s flat plain felt sad and empty. I would have preferred more bumps.

The uneventful life of an insular couple

Why writers read: “If I could always read I should never feel the want of company.” – Lord Byron

My Goodreads and Amazon review of Wrinkled Rebels by Laura Katz Olson (Rated 5) – Cross-Generational Appeal. Wrinkled Rebels by Laura Katz Olson is a nostalgia trip for those who, like me, were “Children of the 60s.” In fact, in an uncanny match, I’m the exact same age as the novel’s six New York City protagonists, entering college in 1963, becoming immersed in the anti-war and women’s movements, vowing to remain engaged as we graduated into the “adult” world. For readers of later generations, Olson’s book offers an entertaining survey course of that tumultuous era, told through the stories of its diverse cast of characters, three women and three men, who bond as freshmen and stay in sporadic touch during the ensuing decades. As a novelist myself (see my Amazon author page and Goodreads author page), I admire how Olson achieves a fine balance between detailed historical context and generous character development. The book is driven by the protagonists’ impending 50th reunion, prompting each to recall the past, assess the present, and evaluate how they shaped one another’s lives. Building toward the reunion, readers eagerly turn the pages of this skillfully written narrative with cross-generational appeal to those who reflect on life’s heady mix of predictable and unexpected outcomes.

Children of the 60s meet 50 years later

Why writers read: “Our favorite book is always the book that speaks most directly to us at a particular stage in our lives. And our lives change.” – Lloyd Alexander

My Goodreads and Amazon review of Long Island Compromise by Taffy Brodesser-Akner (Rated 3) – Tone Deaf. Being unfamiliar with Taffy Brodesser-Akner’s previous novel, I was not prepared for the satiric tone of Long Island Compromise. In fact, having read that she’d written this book about a real-life kidnaping to understand the aftermath of a trauma in her own life, I expected the novel to be serious. Once I adjusted my expectations, I tried to get into the spirit of the sharp social commentary that is this author’s strength. Alas, it was a struggle because the tone ill-fit the topic. It reminded me of my discomfort watching sitcoms as a child, waiting for everything to turn out okay. As an adult, I’m fine with any outcome, good or bad, provided I care about the characters. I can’t say I cared about any of the born-to-wealth adult children in Long-Island Compromise. Mocking the victims comes off as cruel, not canny. The bitter ending, devoid of empathy, forecloses the possibility of insight into human nature. Worst, from a literary perspective, the writing is preachy. As a novelist myself (see my Amazon author page and Goodreads author page), I avoid didactic narratives. They neither amuse nor inform. While Brodesser-Akner is occasionally entertaining, her self-indulgent prose fails to engage or enlighten. People who inherit money may not “deserve” their wealth, but neither do they inherently deserve scorn. I wish this talented author had invested her words more wisely.

Misspent words

Why writers read: “There are worse crimes than burning books. One of them is not reading them.” – Joseph Brodsky

My Goodreads and Amazon review of This Strange Eventful History: A Novel by Claire Messud (Rated 3) – Barren Territory. This Strange Eventful History by Claire Messud traverses decades, continents, and viewpoints to portray the three-generation history of a French-Algerian family. The novel starts strong with memorable characters and fraught events, but detours into peripheral names, happenings, and literary and philosophical ruminations. Messud’s “erudite” writing is self-indulgent and begs for a firm editorial hand. Ultimately the book is a screed against forgetting — multiple figures have Alzheimer’s — and near the end, a dying father recollects life’s small moments, especially those spent with family. The passage would have been more poignant had the book not been stuffed with irrelevant tangents whose clutter stifles explorations into character. For example, there is a stark contrast between the patriarch besotted by his wife and the strained relations between subsequent generations whose emotional connections are as uprooted as their peripatetic family. Messud paints them with broad swaths of exposition, rarely revealing the roots beneath their feelings. Messud merely implies that love is blind or has no rhyme or reason. But as a novelist myself (see my Amazon author page and Goodreads author page), I believe our role is to spark insights into emotions. Messud’s book offers this promise initially, then migrates into barren territory.

A rambling portrait of a French-Algerian family

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 Ashes, Ashes by Fred Soukup (Rated 5) – Above the Smoldering Remains. It’s difficult for a writer to make readers care about characters whose lives are far from enviable — people who, while trying to befriend others, become their own worst enemies. Yet that is the challenge Fred Soukup sets for himself in Ashes, Ashes, and brilliantly achieves. As if surmounting that hurdle wasn’t high enough, he’s wraps his portrayal in a Rashomon-like murder mystery. The story is told from multiple points of view, each with a distinctive voice. It damns the foster care system and the callous society that looks the other way as its victims land on the trash heap. As a novelist myself (see my Amazon author page and Goodreads author page), I admire Soukup’s ability to elicit compassion for unlikable characters who seek salvation but will settle for a salvage operation. This is a bleak book and yet, because the protagonists don’t give up on themselves, readers can’t give up hoping for them. Soukup’s creations cling to life, determined to realize dreams and find redemption. They may differ from us on the surface, but underneath their scars, these throwaways embody a deep and abiding humanity. Soukup reveals the dark underbelly of the nursery rhyme we all learned as children, most of us unaware that it refers to a deadly plague. We’re not innocent children, but Ashes, Ashes challenges readers to rise above the smoldering remains.

Elicits compassion for unlikeable characters

Why writers read: “We ought to read only the kind of books that wound or stab us. If the book we’re reading doesn’t wake us up with a blow to the head, what are we reading for? – Franz Kafka

My Goodreads and Amazon review of Absolution by Alice McDermott (Rating 5) – Don’t Look Away. Absolution by Alice McDermott turns a female lens on America’s early intervention in Vietnam. The novel is told from dual retrospectives: Patricia, now an elderly widow, and Rainey, now a middle-aged daughter, both members of military-industrial families posted to Saigon in 1963. A third woman — Charlene — Patricia’s dynamic friend and Rainey’s domineering mother, draws them together. While the book reflects on American hubris, it looks more critically at the role of women on the cusp of the women’s liberation movement. Patricia, a shy newlywed, is defined by others — her husband, her friend, the Church — to the point of accepting the nicknames they assign her. Rainey is the obedient daughter, silently emulating her mother’s stoicism. Charlene’s friend and daughter are equally enamored of, and alarmed by, this whirlwind of a woman, whose “white savior” guilt drives her to help the poor and ailing Vietnamese. Like America itself, her altruism is feeble and often misguided, but she’s adamant that looking away is worse. As a fellow writer (see my Amazon author page and Goodreads author page), I admire McDermott’s fluid writing, deft characterizations, and immersive storytelling. The novel, like the war, presents no victors, only a quagmire that demands confession and defies absolution. Don’t look away from this superb book.

The Vietnam war seen through the eyes of women

Why writers read: “No matter how busy you may think you are, you must find time for reading, or surrender yourself to self-chosen ignorance.” – Confucius