Friday, July 30, 2021
"The Shadow in the Garden: A Biographer's Tale," by James Atlas
“The Shadow in the Garden: A Biographer’s Tale” (Vintage, 2017), by James Atlas, is a pleasure to read. Atlas, a literary critic and the biographer of poet Delmore Schwartz and of novelist Saul Bellow, writes engagingly of his own experiences as a biographer; he also puts the art of literary biography in historical and literary context. For example, he writes fairly extensively about one of the most famous biographers of all time, James Boswell, and his subject, Samuel Johnson. He also writes of Lytton Strachey, Elizabeth Gaskell, and many other biographers of well-known writers. His research and knowledge is deep, and it is clear he has a great and genuine love of literature, writers, and in particular biography. But the best part of this book is Atlas’ descriptions of the years-long, complex process of doing the research for his own biographies. He did not know Schwartz personally, as the poet had died before Atlas embarked on the biography. He did know Bellow, and spent much time with the novelist, his family members (including several ex-wives and children), his girlfriends, and his friends. Atlas’ relationship with Bellow was fraught: Bellow was sometimes friendly and cooperative, sometimes resistant and even icy. Atlas writes extensively, although with a diplomatic reserve, about his own feelings about Bellow, but these clearly became somewhat resentful at times. He also writes about his own life and struggles and insecurities, although not extensively or inappropriately. The book is truly a treasure for what we learn about the art of biography and about literature more generally. The way Atlas weaves together all the topics mentioned above is truly impressive. As I said above, the book is truly engaging, whether the reader is a scholar of literature or not. This is true for me even though I don’t know the work of Schwartz well beyond reading him in a college class on poetry, and though despite reading several of Bellow’s novels and being impressed by them in my twenties, I have grown far less enchanted with them over the years. But Atlas managed to draw me in and make me fascinated by these writers and by the process of writing biographies. I will just remind readers here of a related memoir on the writing of biographies that I wrote about with very high praise here on 2/18/20: Deirdre Bair’s 2019 “Parisian Lives: Samuel Beckett, Simone de Beauvoir, and Me.” I personally enjoyed this book by Bair even more than the one by Atlas, but I highly recommend both books.
Friday, July 23, 2021
"Are You Enjoying?" by Mira Sethi
Mira Sethi, a writer who lives in Lahore and in San Francisco, has published a compelling collection of short stories set in Pakistan: “Are You Enjoying?” (Knopf, 2021). The stories inform non-Pakistani readers about Pakistan, but never in a didactic way; at the same time the book draws us in with the many both realistic and surprising situations the characters find themselves in. Most of the stories are about young people and their relationships, including ways in which they are influenced by and sometimes restricted by the norms of their country and families. Sometimes the characters find ingenious ways around these norms. In case any readers might think the stories and the writing would be conservative because of their setting, they will soon be proven wrong. There is plenty in the stories about sex and sexualities, and plenty of frank and colloquial language about these matters and others. The stories deal with family and family connections and obligations. Sometimes sexualities and love affairs have to be hidden, even disguised by such strategems as marriages between gay men and lesbian women. Sometimes there is violence. The stories are brimming with vividly-described experiences, conversations, twists and turns in plots, and all the mixed events and feelings of life; they never allow the reader’s attention to drift.
Friday, July 16, 2021
"All the Young Men: A Memoir of Love, AIDS, and Chosen Family in the American South," by Ruth Coker Burks
I recently visited the National AIDS Memorial Grove in the Golden Gate Park in San Francisco, a beautiful and moving place. I am old enough to remember well the beginning and peak of the terrible AIDS epidemic, well before effective treatments made it a chronic disease rather than a death sentence, usually a quick and very painful one at that. Making AIDS sufferers' situations even worse was the way most people, even many medical people, were too afraid to touch or even get near AIDS patients, although there were many caring people among the gay and lesbian communities and among medical personnel, especially in the big cities, who did help tremendously. Already living in San Francisco at the time, I saw many of the devastatingly affected young men (and at the time, they were mostly young men) on the streets, especially in the mostly-gay Castro District, emaciated and aged-looking, often leaning on canes, with lesions on their faces and bodies. Ruth Coker Burks’ (with Kevin Carr O’Leary) new book, “All the Young Men: A Memoir of Love, AIDS, and Chosen Family in the American South” (Grove Press, 2020), describes the way Burks almost accidentally started to get involved with helping AIDS patients in a small Arkansas town in the 1980s and 1990s. Although she had no medical training, she started providing support and care to patients who were neglected even in hospitals because of nurses’ and others’ (often including their own families') fear of contact with them. She held their hands and talked with them and stayed with them while they were dying. Later when she was contacted by those with AIDS in earlier stages, she helped them find medicine, housing, and other services, always with her own unstinting caring. Because it was in a conservative area, it was even harder to do this work than in big coastal cities such as San Francisco and New York. (But here I pause to give tribute to ALL the medical and social workers and volunteers who gave so much of themselves, even in the early years when little was known about how the disease spread, and when these personnel did not know whether and how they were risking their own health and lives. Another important and compassionate memoir from those days, also set in the South, is Abraham Verghese’s 1994 book, “My Own Country: A Doctor’s Story,” about his work with AIDS patients in a small town in the Smoky Mountains in Tennessee in the early days of the epidemic.) Burks’ work started to be more and more known, and she started working with organizations and governments and getting grants, and even eventually became a consultant for Bill Clinton when he was governor of Arkansas and later when he was President. Many of these men who suffered from AIDS became Burks’ close friends, even, as the title says, her “chosen family.” Like all human beings, these men had both good characteristics and flaws, and Burks does not sugarcoat the descriptions, but her love for them all shines through. This is a story of bravery, compassion, and resourcefulness. Burks never seems to be praising herself for this work; she just describes it in a matter-of-fact way, and it was clearly a labor of love. As sad as the events of the book mostly are, the book is also full of joy, caring, and human kindness. It is sometimes even humorous, as Burks has a cheerful, can-do, even joking-at-times, tone. She and her co-writer have created an extremely informative and inspiring book. Of course the topic is a tremendously tragic one, and that is never forgotten throughout this memoir, but it is also one that makes readers care and want to keep reading. I highly recommend this book.
Saturday, July 10, 2021
"Morningside Heights," by Joshua Henkin, and "Crying in H Mart," by Michelle Zauner
I have just read two engrossing books, one a novel and one a memoir, portraying caregiving of very ill loved ones. The books have much in common in their overall themes of the meanings of family and relationships and cultures, but are also very different in many ways. “Morningside Heights” (Pantheon, 2021) is Joshua Henkin’s latest novel, and as in his earlier novels (see my posts of 8/19/12, 9/13/12, and 2/14/13), his voice is (according to Joan Frank’s perceptive 6/27/21 Washington Post review of the current book and alluding to Henkin’s earlier fiction as well) “characterized by compassionate attention to modern human predicaments” and is “unflinching yet kind.” “Morningside Heights” describes the early-onset dementia of a brilliant and highly successful professor in his fifties, and his being cared for by his much younger wife. Fortunately they have the means to employ help, as well as caring friends who pitch in, but it is still a devastatingly sad and difficult situation for her and their daughter, as of course it is for him. Michelle Zauner’s memoir “Crying in H Mart” (Knopf, 2021) shares the sadness and pain of caring for a loved one, in this case her mother, who suffers terribly with cancer and dies when Zauner is only 25 years old. Mother and daughter have had a fraught relationship, complicated by the mother’s being first-generation Korean-American and the daughter’s being half-Korean, half Caucasian-American, as well as by the daughter's youth. The author decided to drop everything (she is a musician who goes by the name of Japanese Breakfast) and dedicate herself to taking care of her mother, and witnessed all the terrible details involving doctors, hospitals, tests, and the horrifying symptoms and pain that her mother endured. The two drew closer and closer during this time. One of the ways they had always connected, and continued to do so even more during the mother’s illness, was through preparing and eating Korean food. The memoir is full of food-related experiences, memories, conversations, and meditations. Zauner writes beautifully about food and its cultural connotations and how it is the way she best understands and draws closer to her Korean family and background. Both Henkin’s novel and Zauner’s memoir are painful to read, yet life-affirming, and both are very well-written and compelling. I recommend both.
Monday, July 5, 2021
"You'll Never Believe What Happened to Lacey: Crazy Stories about Racism," by Amber Ruffin and Lacey Lamar
Sisters Amber Ruffin and Lacey Lamar, in their book “You’ll Never Believe What Happened to Lacey: Crazy Stories about Racism” (Grand Central, 2021) have taken a different approach than most authors do to the topic of race and racism in the United States: they describe it through the use of humor – very pointed, laugh-out-loud and at the same time shake-your-head-about-how-wrong-and-crazy-things-are humor. Ruffin is a writer and cast member on “Late Night with Seth Myers,” and recently began her own show, “The Amber Ruffin Show.” She lives in New York City, whereas her sister Lacey lives in Nebraska, where she works in health and human services. The book focuses, as the title suggests, on Lacey’s experiences with racism, and the sisters’ conversations about those experiences. The book is essentially a series of stories about things that people have said and done to or in front of Lacey; the authors somehow manage to reveal how shocking the stories are and at the same time make them humorous – a real achievement, and an effective approach. The sisters toggle between being discouraged at the fact that racism prevails even now, and being cautiously hopeful that things can and do change, at least very slowly. Besides pointing out the racism in everyday life (as well as in larger settings), their main point is (as they themselves state) that it is important to speak out, to name the problem, and even, sometimes, to laugh at it. This is a brave, thought-provoking, and – yes – humorous book.
Thursday, July 1, 2021
Independent Bookstores Thriving Despite the Pandemic!
Many readers worried about how independent bookstores would survive during the pandemic. I am beyond thrilled to see that they have in fact survived, and even thrived. The American Booksellers Association recently (late May 2021) announced that membership actually increased during the past year. The ABA said that the survival and even success of bookshops during the pandemic was due partly to PPP (government) loans and grants, and partly to the rise of online sales. They also mentioned the role of bookshop.org, an online bookseller that partners with independent bookstores. Hurray for this good news!
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