The Hodgepodge Reading of a Bookish Young Teenager

Reading a recent review of a new biography of Somerset Maugham reminded me of reading and loving his novels as a teenager. "Of Human Bondage." "The Moon and Sixpence." "Cakes and Ale." "The Razor's Edge." The novels were powerful and psychologically intriguing, and gave me the feeling of having a window into "real life." Thinking about these novels reminded me of the strange hodgepodge of books I read as a young teenager. I would follow up reading a children's mystery with an adult mystery with a bestseller with a nineteenth century novel, all jumbled together. For example, here is a small sampling of the books I read when I was about fourteen (taken from my ongoing "books read" list, kept from the age of ten; see my 1/24/10 and 1/25/10 posts for more about that list):
-Penny Allen and the Mystery of the Hidden Treasure
-The Seven Dials Mystery, by Agatha Christie
-Death Be Not Proud, by John Gunther
-Nicholas Nickleby, by Charles Dickens
-Anthem, by Ayn Rand (!)
-Ethan Frome, by Edith Wharton
-Rebecca, by Daphne Du Maurier
-Perry Mason and the Case of the Amorous Aunt (!), by Erle Stanley Gardner
-The Ugly American, by Lederer and Burdick
-Danny Orlis, Big Brother
-Maigret Has Scruples, by Simenon
-Babbit, by Sinclair Lewis
-The Brothers Karamazov, by Dostoyevsky
I hardly think that at age fourteen I understood, beyond the plot, much about some of these books, especially "The Brothers Karamazov"! But I could feel that novel's power, its intimations of the complicated depths of human character and of what life could bring. And always, with all the sometimes indiscriminate reading, I was taking in the world, savoring all the experiences, sensing the vastness and complexity and possibility of life. I instinctively knew that books were my portal into that vastness.

"One D.O.A., One on the Way"

A very small book (166 small pages) from minimalist writer Mary Robison, "One D.O.A., One on the Way" (Counterpoint, 2009) has a very large impact. The novel is both a prolonged cry of despair for New Orleans, post-Katrina, and a sad sort of love letter to the city as well. The main character, Eve, a movie location scout without much visible work, is married to Adam, and is having an affair with his twin brother Saunders. Saunders' wife Petal has threatened him with a gun and is now in the only psychiatric hospital still open in N.O. Adam and Saunders' parents are rich and extremely difficult. The story is told in very short episodes, often less than a page long, and is interspersed with lists about the terrible conditions in N.O., such as the crime statistics and lack of adequate police or other city services. Also interspersed are frequent lists of different types of gun holsters available; guns are a motif throughout the story. Somehow, despite all the despair, Eve's persona is smart if wounded, and her voice is mordantly witty. The novel easily kept my attention all the way to the dramatic conclusion.

How to Frighten Parents of Teenagers

Anne Lamott's new novel, "Imperfect Birds" (Riverhead, 2010), is a frightening one for readers who are, or will be, parents of teenagers. In this third installment (following the earlier novels "Rosie" and "Crooked Little Heart") of the story of young Rosie and her family, Rosie is 17 years old and experimenting with all that a teenager's life has to offer, including alcohol, drugs, and sex. Her mother Elizabeth and stepfather James are baffled, afraid, and sometimes angry. Rosie can be so sweet and loving, yet so rude and rebellious. She lies to her parents all the time, and they are caught between wanting to believe her often convincing stories and knowing better. What the novel illustrates scarily well is the unbearable experience of watching one's child go off the rails, and the helplessness that parents feel in the face of all this. The only allies Elizabeth and James have in battling with the situation are love, faith, supportive friends, access to relevant services, and the fact that Rosie is basically a "good kid" underneath it all. The novel - like most of Lamott's writing - is set in Marin County, California, where she lives and, as it happens, I live as well. Many of the scenes - geographical and social - are very familiar to me. Lamott's writing, although a bit workwomanlike, is effective, and kept me absorbed. And in case readers dread reading about such a painful topic, let me add that there are many positive and even happy scenes among the difficult ones, as well as quite a bit of humor, and that the novel ends with a note of hope.

Girls Wandering Through Life

I have very recently read three novels that have much in common: "The Wonder Spot" (Viking, 2005), by Melissa Banks (author of the bestseller "The Girls' Guide to Hunting and Fishing"); "Girls in Trucks" (Little, Brown, 2008), by Katie Crouch; and "Men and Dogs" (Little, Brown, 2010), also by Katie Crouch. Each features a young woman main character, and each of those characters is a bit lost, a bit stumbling as she makes her way from her teenage years well into adulthood. Each character takes a number of unchallenging jobs and has trouble finding a "real" career. Each has a series of relationships with men ranging from those obviously wrong for her to others that seem more promising but somehow always go wrong and/or fade out. Each has mixed (but basically loving if exasperated at times) feelings about her parents, and ambivalent relationships with grandparents; two of the three, interestingly, are closer to their brother(s) than almost anyone. This description may make the novels sound depressing, and there is that aspect, but in fact all three books are quite enjoyable to read. One reason is that there are many positive aspects in each young woman's life: family, friends, enjoyment of the cities where they live, fun, and continued if shaky optimism. Another enjoyable element in these novels is humor; Sophie, the main character of "The Wonder Spot," has a particularly funny, sardonic voice that enlivens the book. Further, all three novels are well-written.

Wishful Reading

I sometimes wish I could read anytime, anywhere: read while driving, read in the shower, read while sleeping, read while walking.... Of course I don't do any of these. Actually my friend Ch. DOES read while walking, as she walks on the beach almost every day; I wish I could do that, but I don't think I am coordinated enough, or perhaps relaxed enough. And as I already read so much, it is probably just as well that I don't read ALL the time!

Large Print Blues

I have needed reading glasses for a while now. So recently I thought I would try large print editions of books, available at my local library. Strangely enough, reading the large print novels made me feel both old and childish at the same time. Old, because of all the associations with old eyes and old people, but childish because it reminded me of children's books, with their chunky, blocky print; somehow these editions even made the sentences seem shorter and simpler, absurd as that sounds. As much as I believe in the pure power of words, experiences like this remind me that the packaging and the media do make a difference in one's feelings about a book. Reading a mass market paperback with a gaudy cover feels a bit different than reading a sturdy, plain-covered hardback edition of the same book. Reading online is definitely different than reading print. Listening to books-on-tape is different from reading books. Even a book's size and the font used can make a difference. Somehow reading large print books has been a bit unsettling. I do want to acknowledge that they help a lot of people, so I am glad that they exist; in addition, I may well need them myself someday. In the meanwhile, I may have to get stronger reading glasses, but I think I will postpone the large print editions for a bit longer.

No, Thanks, Really!

I had seen a couple of reviews of Scottish writer A.L. Kennedy's new book, "What Becomes: Stories" (Knopf, 2010). I had heard she was an excellent writer, and this story collection sounded intriguing, but it also sounded very intense and depressing; I couldn't decide whether I wanted to read it or not. I kept thinking I would read one or two more reviews and then decide. Then today I read in the San Francisco Chronicle's review by Carmela Ciuraru that "One English critic has compared the experience of reading Kennedy to being 'being beaten in the groin with a hammer' - intended as a compliment - and it's an apt description. Her books are tough." Um, I think I will pass....