Tribute to a Dear Friend

Today I attended the memorial service for my dear friend of 40 years, C. Her death is a huge loss for me and for so many of her family and friends, as was evidenced by the beautiful and heartfelt tributes and stories at the memorial service. I write about her here today because she was one of my best "reading friends" (among the many wonderful aspects of our friendship); I wrote here about her, and the love for books that we shared, on 2/16/10. She was also kind enough to contribute, at my invitation, two illuminating guest blogs, one on re-reading favorite books (on 10/17/10) and one on her love of Japan and haiku (on 10/18/10). In addition, she was very supportive of this blog, not only reading it regularly and sending encouraging comments, but also recommending it to her many friends. Over the 40 years of our friendship, we mostly lived on different coasts, but were always in close contact, with visits, letters, emails, and phone calls flowing back and forth across the country. We often talked about books, recommended books to each other, and gave each other books. Just a few days ago, I thought about a certain book: "Oh, C. would like this book...I have to tell her about it," and then sadly remembered that I can no longer do so. She was a very special person -- brilliant, high-achieving, kind, caring, talented, artistic, well-traveled, and more -- and a great friend. I miss her -- and will continue to miss her -- more than I can say.

"Abide With Me"

I very much liked Elizabeth Strout’s 2008 collection of interconnected stories, “Olive Kittredge.” I have now just listened to her 2006 novel, “Abide With Me” (Random House, 2006) on CD. It is the story of a young minister, Tyler Caskey, who works in a small town in New England in the 1950s. His wife has died, and one of his small daughters is having a very hard time adjusting to losing her mother. Although Tyler is popular with his congregation, a confluence of events causes him to feel beset, worn down, and less confident of his place with this group of people in this small town. The author expertly demonstrates how a good situation can become shaky and threatened, almost before anyone realizes what is happening, and how generally good people can make very human mistakes and not realize the consequences of those mistakes. Tyler is both an admirable and likable character who struggles with his humanity and that of others. He is deeply connected to God and committed to his ministry, yet has his weaknesses, doubts, and fears. The story is about God, the spirit, human nature, family, communities, the toll of grief, the difficulties of adjusting to change, the vulnerability of children, the dangers of gossip, and more. Strout’s characters are very well drawn, believable, sad, and all too human.

Another Memoir from the Restaurant World

I have written several times – e.g., 2/4/10, 6/29/10, and 8/31/10 – on food and restaurant literature, including memoirs. “Blood, Bones, & Butter: The Inadvertent Education of a Reluctant Chef” (Random House, 2011) is Gabrielle Hamilton’s memoir about her life and her work as the owner/chef of Prune, a well-regarded New York City restaurant. But long before she gets to the part about Prune, she writes of her life in food, beginning with the feasts her parents would put on for dozens of people, and proceeding to her first restaurant job at the age of thirteen, her travels, and her years of work in restaurants and in the catering business. She also writes of her life and relationships, although these portrayals are odd in some ways: she rarely sees or writes about her parents after they divorced when she was a teenager, she only stayed close to one of her four siblings, and she writes almost too candidly about the serious problems in her relationship with her husband. (She doesn’t mention being divorced from him, but at the end of the book she intimates that divorce may be approaching.) She writes of her life as a mother of two young children and the owner of a hugely time-consuming restaurant, and of the difficult issue for women chefs of whether they can commit to this grueling business and still have personal lives, including children. One has to admire Hamilton’s toughness and can-do attitude, and her belief that just working harder and being willing to do without sleep are what it takes to succeed as a working mother; still, I wish she had acknowledged that the problems should not just be for each individual woman to solve, but are partly societal, and that there is a systemic lack of support for working women and families. Hamilton is a good writer who has an MFA degree from the University of Michigan; she has always written, and derived comfort and satisfaction from writing. The book could have been edited a bit more carefully, however; for example, the author overuses – almost like a tic – the phrase “kind of,” enough to make the reader (this reader, anyway) repeatedly cringe. Overall, though, this is an interesting and readable memoir about a strong, motivated woman who learned early on that her passion was food, and feeding people well.

Books in My Family

I have written before about my parents' love of reading and books. On 3/10/10 I wrote of the pleasure of supplying my mother with books now that she has more time to read. On 12/30/10, I wrote of my late father's lifelong love of reading. A recent visit to my mom's house reminded me of how fortunate I am to have always been surrounded by books in my parents' various homes over the years, and how long after I left home, when I visited them (and still visit my mom), I loved seeing all their books around us. This visit, I was thinking about the sheer variety of books they bought, were given, read, and kept. There are medical books (general medicine, surgery, psychiatry, etc.) (my dad was a physician), fiction, poetry, plays, biographies, art books, self-help books, books on music, reference books, books about India (where I grew up), cookbooks, books by friends (and by their daughter!), and more. All were acquired for information, education, and enjoyment. My parents were not "collectors"; they didn't think about first editions or rare books. They were unpretentious about their books; for example, there are some Readers Digest Condensed books among all the others. Most of the books are hardcover but there are plenty of paperbacks as well. My dad did have a special interest in reference books, atlases, and sets of "great books." Books are scattered around the house in various tall and short bookcases: in the living room, in what was my dad's "office" (study), and in all the bedrooms. They are a comfortable part of the decor and environment of the house. On some level I took this -- being surrounded by books all my life -- for granted, but on another level, I always appreciated and loved this great treasure trove of wonderful books of all kinds. Not only were my brothers and I influenced by this constant background of books, but also the grandchildren noticed them from the time they were small, and often took down a children's book, an art book, or an atlas to look at. And now that my niece has two small sons, and I recently saw a look of joy on the older son's face when he opened the gift of a book, I am happy about the legacy of reading's being passed down through four generations of the family my parents created and nurtured.

"Binocular Vision"

Wow, wow, wow! “Wow” is perhaps not a literary term, but it describes the way I feel about Edith Pearlman’s “Binocular Vision: New and Selected Stories” (Lookout Books, 2011). Why haven't I heard of this amazing writer before? I just stumbled across a review of her work, and the reviewer pointed out that Pearlman is a writer who is not as well known as she should be. In her introduction to this volume, Ann Patchett (a wonderful writer herself) instructs us to “put [Pearlman’s] stories beside those of John Updike and Alice Munro. That’s where they belong.” It sounds like hyperbole, but she is not far off, in my opinion. Patchett goes on to tell us that she once had occasion to read one of Pearlman’s stories, “Self-Reliance,” aloud 20 times. She said that the more she read it, “the more it bloomed .... when I had read it 20 times, I could see that it was flawless. Every word in every sentence was indispensable, every observation subtle and complex.... Every time I thought I had mastered all of the nuances, the story offered up another part of itself to me.” Patchett goes on to write of the “richness” and “depth of spirit” in Pearlman’s stories. I echo everything Patchett says; I savored every story, and found, as Patchett did, that each story was rich and complex. The stories range in locale from Russia to London to Central Europe to Central America, with many taking place in the fictional Godolphin, Massachusetts. They also range through 20th century history. The characters are diverse, and often whole lives are lived in one story. A few of the stories share overlapping characters. One of the pleasures of these stories is that many of the characters are older, yet still vital, and carry their whole rich histories within them. As I get older myself, I value this inclusion and these perspectives. The stories are also bursting with families, lovers, friends, and colleagues. These small masterpieces are compelling, engaging, and layered. They are beautifully constructed and written. Highly recommended!

Literary Event on Campus

I very much enjoy attending literary events at the University of San Francisco, the campus where I teach. Two days ago, in the late afternoon, I had the pleasure of hearing three faculty writers from our university reading from their new books. Tracy Seeley read from "My Ruby Slippers: The Road Back to Kansas"; Ryan Van Meter read from "If You Knew Then What I Know Now"; and Lisa Catherine Harper read from "A Double Life: Discovering Motherhood." All three said in their introductory remarks that their books were hard to classify; they seemed to fall under the umbrella of creative nonfiction, with elements of memoir and other genres. The three books are very different in subject matter and style, yet they share strong personal voices and compelling prose. Besides enjoying and savoring the readings themselves, I liked looking around at the others in the audience, especially the students, and seeing them respond with pleasure to the readings. The sense of shared pleasure was enhanced by the light pouring in through the many tall windows, as well as by the refreshments served; these elements added to the atmosphere of celebrating literature, especially literature created by our very own colleagues/professors. And to think that I only had to walk a few steps from my office to enjoy this literary experience!

Pronunciation Blues

I suffer from what I suspect is a common malady among avid readers: the vocabulary I know in print is much larger than the vocabulary I regularly hear or speak. Thus when I do use a word that I have only seen in print, I don’t always know how to pronounce it, and on some occasions, have embarrassed myself by mispronouncing it. Sometimes the word originates in a non-English language, and sometimes it is just not a widely spoken word. Unfortunately, in English, unlike in some other languages such as Spanish, spelling doesn’t give a clear and logical indication of pronunciation. I have recently discovered pronunciation guides online, so if I know ahead of time that I want to use a word, perhaps in a conference paper, I can look it up and listen to the correct pronunciation. But if the word occurs to me spontaneously in conversation, and I am unsure of the pronunciation, I have two strategies, depending on my audience. Most often I just think of a different word to substitute. But if I am with friends, I may say “XXXX” (my guess at how the word is pronounced) and then say airily “or however that word is pronounced.”

The new "Jane Eyre" movie

I saw the new (2011) movie version of Charlotte Bronte’s “Jane Eyre” yesterday and liked it. Of course the movie is a bit different from the book, as all movie adaptations are. A major difference is that the narrative is not in chronological order; the film starts with Jane’s desperately fleeing Thornfield Hall after she finds out about Rochester’s mad wife in the attic, and shows her miserable days on the moors before she reaches safety at St. John’s house. Then there are flashbacks to her childhood with her cruel aunt and at the dreary orphanage. Certain scenes are necessarily omitted, or skimmed over, but the basic bones of the story are there. Mia Waskowska is excellent as Jane, effectively showing her stillness, her held-in passionate feelings, and the rare but powerful outbreak of passionate expression of anger or love. Although -- or maybe because -- it is a very controlled performance, I found I couldn’t take my eyes off this actress. I liked Michael Fassbender as Rochester less; he lacks the strong, dramatic presence that the role requires, in my opinion. In any case, Rochester’s initial rudeness and arrogance, as portrayed in the novel, are downplayed, as they have been in other filmed adaptations. The movie is also enhanced by the presence of the always wonderful Judi Dench as Mrs. Fairfax. I will admit that I was happy just to have the chance to relive this rich and compelling story. After reading the novel many times, teaching it several times, and seeing several movie and television versions of it, I never tire of the story of this plain, unfortunate young woman who somehow, despite all the difficulties and sadness of her childhood, has the strength and confidence to stand up for herself no matter what, acknowledges and allows herself to feel and express passion, and has the ethics and self-respect never to compromise her beliefs. Charlotte Bronte’s creation, Jane Eyre, is truly unique and inspiring, even today, and I think this film by director Cary Fukunaga does her justice.

"Seven Loves"

I liked Valerie Trueblood’s recent short story collection, “Marry or Burn,” so much (see my 4/9/11 post) that I then found and read her 2006 novel, “Seven Loves” (Little, Brown). Trueblood is now one of my favorite contemporary writers. Her writing is wonderful and rich, and brings to mind a term used in anthropology: “thick description.” “Seven Loves” tells the story of May through important events and “loves” throughout her long life. Each chapter focuses on one love, not in chronological order: her mother, her husband, her lover, her son, the police officer who tried to save her son, a co-worker at May’s post-retirement job, and an attendant at the nursing home she lives in at the end of her life. Each of these elicits a different type of love from May, some conventional and some not. There are other loves woven into the chapters too, besides these seven, such as May’s love for her two daughters. The chapters interconnect and sometimes go over the same territory from different angles, sometimes from the perspectives of other characters. May is a wonderful, complex character, precisely portrayed, very believable and knowable, yet full of surprises as well. Her mother is also particularly well described and compelling. May's life illustrates the way we sometimes deeply connect to someone who isn’t necessarily a family member or a romantic attachment. One of the best chapters is the one about May after her stroke; she is shown in her full humanity, the same May we have known since she was a child, a woman who happens to have had a stroke, rather than a person defined by the stroke. This novel is full of insights and telling details; it was a great pleasure to read. Highly recommended.

Guest Blog: On "Freedom"

My friend Mary wrote me the following comments about the long novel "Freedom," which I struggled with some time ago (see my posts of 11/8/10, 11/11/10, and 11/13/10); I am happy to publish her thoughtful response as a guest blog entry.

Mary's comments:

As I read your recent posts about the subject of marriage in novels, I thought about Jonathan Franzen's book "Freedom." The marriage of Walter and Patty, two of the main characters, looked far different from the outside than the inside. Interestingly, as their seemingly happy marriage began to unravel, their mutual friend Katz (although himself part of their trouble) felt disoriented by the loss of what had felt like his home base.

I've been curious about this book since I read a practically worshipful review of it in the New York Times and then your own rather negative one. My reaction was in between, but closer to yours. I too found myself having to push through parts of it. It was part zingy satire, part saga, part family history, part current events -- with way too much stuffed in between. I found the descriptions of such things as the coal mining scheme and the endangered birds particularly tedious. It took me a long time to care much about the characters. They seemed to be intentionally "types," used for the purposes of satire, so it was hard to really feel for them. If I am going to have to live with characters for as long as this long book required, I'd like to feel a little more connected to them.

Toward the end of the book I began to like it more. Those last pages had the momentum that I didn't feel earlier in the book, and the writing itself just seemed better. There were parts where I found myself nodding at certain dead-on observations, beautifully phrased. It felt like finally genuine feeling had broken through the thick air of smirky satire that permeated most of the book. It just took too long to get there.

Marriage is a Mystery

People say that you never really know what someone else’s marriage is truly like, and I agree. Even the marriages of one’s parents (although I believe that my parents had the best marriage ever), other relatives, and close friends contain reserves and mysteries. I, like you I am sure, have had the experience of being surprised to hear of serious problems and/or impending divorces for couples whom I thought were happy, even models of good marriages. As I was thinking about this, I realized that I get at least as much of my “information” about marriage from books (fiction and nonfiction) as from “real life.” Even in books, however, authors are selective in what they share about the marriages they portray, and consciously or unconsciously shape the perceptions of their readers. Still, I regard literature as an important source of knowledge about marriage, as about so many things. One reason I am thinking and writing about this now is that I realize that several of my last few postings were on books portraying marriages (e.g., 3/15/11, 3/21/11, 4/9/11, 4/11/11, and 4/12/11). These and other books provide evidence that no matter how ubiquitous marriage is, each marriage is unique, and each marriage exists and grows in its own ways, with its own joys and travails, its own fluctuations over the years. As someone who has been married a long time, known a lot of people, and read a lot of books, I am somewhat knowledgeable about marriage, yet still sometimes feel quite ignorant about the mysteries of marriage in general and about the marriages of those I know.

"Must You Go?"

The noted English historian and mystery novelist Antonia Fraser’s new book, “Must You Go? My Life with Harold Pinter” (Doubleday, 2010), tells, as the title indicates, of her long love affair with and marriage to the eminent playwright Harold Pinter, who died in 2008. Unlike recent books by Joan Didion and Joyce Carol Oates about their husbands’ deaths and the aftermath in their own lives, Fraser’s book focuses on the long years of her relationship with Pinter, and describes his illness and death only briefly, although movingly. Theirs seems to have been a great and satisfying love, enhanced by their mutual joy in the intellectual, artistic, writing life. The book emphasizes the positive and mostly skims over the negative; perhaps this is the (stereotypical, I know!) British “chin-up” stance? Or perhaps it is because Fraser knows how fortunate she and Pinter were to have the life and love they had, and prefers to focus on that rather than on bumps in the road, or on its end. The book’s title comes from Pinter’s asking Fraser at a dinner party, “Must you go?”, which became the fateful beginning of their relationship, after which they never seemed to have wavered, despite their need to end two marriages in order to be together. Of course the title also refers to Pinter’s death. Because the book is based on Fraser’s diaries, it is perhaps not quite as satisfying as a more unified narrative; on the other hand, readers benefit from the immediacy of the diary entries, and from the feeling of having a window into these two great writers’ lives as they were lived. The book is full of stories about the couple’s writing, their travels, and their famous friends, yet there is no sense of boastfulness or superiority displayed. Fraser comes across as a thoughtful, down to earth person. Pinter occasionally had a temper, and sometimes became depressed, but overall seemed to have been a brilliant and caring person, dedicated to his art as well as committed to fighting injustice in the world. This is a truly touching love story. The book is enhanced by a generous selection of photographs, many in color.

"Three Stages of Amazement"

Carol Edgarian’s “Three Stages of Amazement” (Scribner, 2011), intrigued me because it focuses on the financial crash of the past three years and its effects even on many prosperous people, and because it is set in the San Francisco Bay Area, where I live. Silicon Valley figures prominently, as do the wealthier neighborhoods in and around San Francisco. The upper middle class but spread-too-thin-financially main characters, Charlie and Lena, are very believable, as are some of the other vividly portrayed characters, particularly Lena’s extremely wealthy uncle Cal and his wife Ivy. We understand and sympathize with the sort of trap Charlie and Lena have fallen into: their ambition has led them to a place where they risk failing on a spectacular level. They are not simply ambitious, however; Charlie’s goal of inventing a robot that can perform surgery in poor countries, directed by a doctor elsewhere, is altruistic as well. We also sympathize with the couple’s deep sadness about the death of one twin girl at birth and the ongoing illness of the other infant twin girl, with the toll Charley’s long work hours and frequent travels take on the marriage, and with Lena’s emotional deprivation and frustration at being left to handle taking care of her two children (they also have a five year old son), including the pain and complications of having a chronically ill child, practically alone. One of the main themes of this novel is, in fact, marriage and its difficulties as well as joys. Charley’s and Lena’s marriage is a beautiful, loving, yet fragile and threatened relationship, realistically delineated. Something that bothered me as I was reading this novel, though, is that there is something unsettling, almost jittery, about it. There is not necessarily anything wrong with that; good literature is often unsettling. I imagine the author intended this impression. But I am not sure the rewards of the novel justify this sort of jumpiness. On the other hand, I read the novel quite quickly, indicating that I enjoyed it, so I won’t be too critical of it.

Questioning Steinbeck’s "Charley"

How disillusioning! An editorial in today’s (4/10/11) New York Times reports on Bill Steigerwald’s research showing that much of John Steinbeck’s ostensibly nonfiction travel memoir, “Travels with Charley in Search of America” (1962) (a book that I very much enjoyed many years ago), was more fiction than nonfiction. Steigerwald researched Steinbeck’s letters, itineraries, and other documents, and found that, according to the Times, the book was “shot through with dubious anecdotes and impossible encounters.” He also found that Steinbeck was NOT alone with his dog Charley most of the time on his trip across America, that his wife was with him much of the time, and that they often stayed in nice hotels and seldom actually camped. This discovery reminds us that the controversies of more recent years regarding James Frey’s "memoir" that turned out to be fiction, and regarding the nonexistent teenaged JT Leroy’s purported “memoir” that turned out to be fiction by a middle-aged woman named Laura Albert, were not new in the annals of literature. The big question, of course, is how much this matters. At least one Steinbeck scholar, according to the Times, felt it didn’t matter. And everyone understands that memoir cannot be perfectly factual and “true” because memory is fallible, and because the episodes and details the author selects to write about shape the “truth” of the piece. But despite this understanding, readers expect that nonfiction/memoir will be basically factually “true,” and feel that their trust has been violated if it turns out not to be so. The Times editorial agrees with this stance, stating that if a book is put forth as nonfiction, it should in fact be nonfiction.

"Marry or Burn"

The eye-catching title of Valerie Trueblood’s collection of short stories, “Marry or Burn” (Counterpoint, 2010), is of course reminiscent of the apostle Paul’s statement in the New Testament that it is better to remain celibate if possible, but if not, “It is better to marry than burn.” The final, longest story in this collection, “Beloved, You Looked Into Space,” sets up this very opposition, and ends with a happy marriage despite threats and complications of various types, including a possible forest fire that fortunately does not materialize. These stories are full of wonderful, complex portrayals of relationships among spouses, family members, lovers, and others. There are several insightful stories about marriage. Another strength of these stories is the portrayal of relationships among sisters and woman friends. The tone of the stories is both matter of fact and dreamy, as if the characters -- and by extension we readers –- move through life in a sort of dazed haze, accepting and absorbing the inevitable bitter along with the gift of the sweet. There are complicated love affairs, a fair amount of adultery, and complicated families with lots of step-relatives. There are estrangements and reconciliations. Trueblood’s stories manage to be both very realistic and beautifully imaginative. Somehow, throughout, my main impression was one of grace, not necessarily earned or predictable, and not necessarily in traditional forms, but pervasive. It took me a story or two to get caught up in this collection, but once I did, I was enchanted and impressed.

Bibliotherapy

The concept of "bibliotherapy" may ring true for the many of us who would agree that reading -- among its many benefits -- can be therapeutic. It makes us feel connected, recognized, understood, inspired, supported, and even healed. Bibliotherapy has a more specific use in the field of education, and more particularly in the field of literacy, where it has been found to be a powerful tool for teaching and supporting children. I recently found that the International Reading Association (IRA) has a Special Interest Section (SIG) on "Bibliotherapy and Reading," currently chaired by my colleague (across the country!) and friend Dr. Rachel Grant, of George Mason University. This group produces a newsletter and a journal, and holds sessions at IRA conferences. For example, according to a newsletter article by Dr. Grant, "As a result of growing concern for the psycho-social and emotional health and wellbeing of children and youth during times of conflict and war, in 2008 and 2009 the Bibliotherapy and Reading SIG academic sessions addressed the impact of conflict and violence on our youngest and most venerable populations," sharing titles of books that "build resiliency and promote a culture of peace in classrooms and beyond." This is yet another testimony to the power of books and reading. I thank Rachel and her IRA SIG colleagues for the good work they are doing as educators, and in particular through promoting bibliotherapy.

My Magazine Pile

For various reasons, the past couple of months have been particularly busy. My pile of incoming magazines has gotten unusually high, as I haven't been able to keep up with the relentless (although welcome) flow to my mailbox. Right now on that pile are the following: 6 issues of The Nation, 4 of Vanity Fair, 2 of San Francisco Magazine, 1 of The Progressive, 1 of New York, 1 of The Atlantic, 1 of Threepenny Review, 1 of The Women's Review of Books, 1 of The New York Times Book Review, and a few miscellaneous magazines from various organizations. On a separate pile are 19 issues of various professional journals. I don't usually let these piles get so tall; I try to keep up. Note that there are no issues of The New Yorker, and only one of New York, despite the fact that these magazines arrive weekly; this is because I tend to read these magazines first because they are so engaging. I know that I will eventually read, or at least skim, all the magazines and journals on my pile, but at this point I don't know when!

"True to Form"

On 2/8/10, I wrote about "middlebrow" authors I enjoy. Their works are a pleasure to read, and are of good quality but perhaps not in the top tier of "serious literature." They have given millions of readers much enjoyment. One of these writers is Elizabeth Berg. I have read several of her novels over the years, and just picked up "True to Form" (Washington Square Press, 2002) for a recent plane trip. (Some of my colleagues work on planes...I see time in the air as time to read!) Berg constructs wonderful, relationship-oriented (I refer to relationships among family members, friends, spouses, and more) stories with very believable characters. In this novel, she writes of thirteen-year-old Katie Nash, a character she previously wrote about in "Durable Goods" and "Joy School." Katie is wise in some ways and innocent in others. She encounters various obstacles in life, but has a kind of centered quality that allows her to deal with them. She is very self-aware and thoughtful, but sometimes makes mistakes in her relationships with others. She is always sincere, and always tries to do the right thing. She is an extremely likable character, with a direct and compelling voice. I admire Berg's ability to portray a young teenager in such a natural, insightful way. "True to Form" is a "quick read," but the story -- and Katie's voice -- do not fade so quickly.