"The Lacuna"

Reading "The Lacuna" (Harper, 2009), by Barbara Kingsolver, was for me like climbing a steep mountain: long (over 500 pages), arduous, breathtaking (in both senses of the word), and worth the effort. (Not that I have climbed any mountains lately, but it seems like an apropos if not very original metaphor.) I initially resisted reading this novel, but since it was chosen for my next Reading Group meeting, highly recommended by one member, I tackled it. It took me almost a month to read, and I read a few other (shorter and less arduous) books during this time. I started reading it in large print, got tired of that (see my 5/31/10 post on large print), continued in regular print, and finished the book on CD (read very effectively by the author herself) during two recent car trips. The main character is Harrison Shepherd, a young man born in the U.S. of a Mexican mother and American father and raised in Mexico, a classic bicultural person, so common in the 20th century. In the 1930s, he works for Diego Rivera and Frida Kahlo, and then for Trotsky in exile, before returning to the U.S. and becoming the author of bestselling novels about ancient Mexican history. He tries to live a quiet life in Asheville, NC, but is blindsided by the anticommunist McCarthy era, which targets him for having associated with Communists and accuses him of being anti-American, using distorted and completely false "evidence." This is ironic, as he is actually very pro-American, and tragic, because it destroys his life and career. Kingsolver's portrayal of the viciousness and mindlessness of this witchhunt era is powerful and frightening, especially in view of some present-day echoes of this mentality. Kingsolver's writing has always been admirable not only for its literary quality but also for engaging with important social/political events and issues; "The Poisonwood Bible," for one outstanding example, is unforgettable. There are other rewards of this book, including the evocative portrayals of the main character, his assistant Violet Brown, Kahlo, and Trotsky; lovely and detailed descriptions of the various locales; and the way the author gives readers a vivid sense of history, both ancient and recent.

Will I Ever Read All of the "Great Books"?

Forty-plus years ago, my parents bought the 54-volume "Great Books of the Western World" set (Encyclopedia Britannica, 1952), and these impressive volumes have been a fixture on my parents' various living room bookshelves over all these years. This set was edited by Robert Maynard Hutchins and Mortimer Adler, and was based on their educational theory that all college students should read these classic books; the program was implemented at the University of Chicago and elsewhere. Over the years my late father and I and other family members read some of the volumes. It has always been understood that eventually the Great Books would pass to me (as the English major and biggest reader in the family). I love the idea of the books, I love how they look on the shelf, and I love taking volumes down and browsing through them. I love what it shows about my parents' priorities that they spent a considerable sum of their hard-earned money on this set (as well as the Classics Club set and many other wonderful books). My vague idea when I was younger was that "someday" I would read all 54 volumes. Now, older and more realistic, I realize that it is highly unlikely that I will ever have the time or - more crucial - the inclination, if I am honest with myself, to read Euclid, Plutarch, Ptolemy, Thomas Aquinas, Gibbon, etc. I am probably almost as unlikely to re-read some of the authors I read in college classes: Euripedes, Rabelais, Milton, Hegel, Goethe, etc. As I am mainly a novel reader, the volumes I am most likely to read, or re-read, are the novels by Swift, Fielding, and Tolstoy. However, even if I have to relinquish the grand vision of myself reading my way through those 54 volumes, I love the idea of them, with their solidity and their embodiment of hundreds of years of history, literature, science, and culture. Of course the fact that they are from the "Western World" means they are limited culturally, and nowadays - appropriately and fortunately - we are much more aware of global and multicultural knowledge and literature. But that doesn't mean we can't continue to treasure these glorious "Great Books."

"Romancing Miss Bronte"

As "Jane Eyre" is one of my all-time favorite and often-read books, I have read a lot about the lives of Charlotte Bronte and her sisters and brother as well. I read Elizabeth Gaskell's biography of Charlotte, as well as later books and articles and at least one fictionalized version of her life. I have just completed another fictionalized version: "Romancing Miss Bronte" (Ballantine, 2010), by Juliet Gael. Although it sometimes veers a little into the "romance novel" genre, and has touches of the portentous and overwrought style you might expect in that genre, it is generally well-written. It recaps the sad but compelling story of the very bright children of a parson in the small, isolated town of Haworth on the Yorkshire moors, the precocious fantasy stories they write together, the diseases that take them one by one, the difficult path to publication by the three surviving sisters, and finally the late marriage to a curate by the sole surviving sister, Charlotte. Where the book is strong is in its exploration of Charlotte's psyche. An enjoyable if often sad read.

Reading Engages the Senses

In my 6/18/10 post, I quoted Thomas Newkirk as saying that memorizing literature helps readers "taste" the words. This reminds me of one reason I love reading in print rather than online: Old-fashioned print engages the senses. Sight of course is primary, but not just for understanding the words. The way the book looks (size, shape, color, cover art, etc.), the way the pages look (layout, margins, etc.), the way the font looks, the size of the print, illustrations: all are part of the reading experience. Sound enters with the whisper or crackle of pages turning, and with the satisfying sound the book makes when set on a table, or when pulled from the shelf. Touch: Is the cover embossed? smooth? made of paper or fabric? Is the binding sewn or pasted? Are the pages thin or thick? How heavy is the book? How does it feel when held in the hand? Smell: All books have distinctive scents, especially very old and very new ones; those scents are part of the reading experience as well. All of this is lost when reading online....

In Praise of "Slow Reading"

An AP news story yesterday ("NH Professor Pushes for Return to Slow Reading," by Holly Ramer, June 17, 2010) describes the "Slow Reading" movement, which now has many proponents, and focuses on one professor's efforts. Professor Thomas Newkirk of the University of New Hampshire says that "students have told him they've become accustomed to flitting from page to page online and that they have trouble concentrating while reading printed books." To help counter this problem, Newkirk "is encouraging schools from elementary through college to return to old strategies such as reading aloud and memorization...to help students truly 'taste' the words." I am, as you might guess, very much in support of this movement. As I was reading this article, my thoughts flashed back to my beloved 8th grade teacher, Mr. George Fisher, and how he would have us memorize poems. Sometimes we resisted this assignment, but we enjoyed it too, and felt proud of being able to recite the poems. Learning a poem "by heart" does indeed, as Newkirk says, promote "tasting" the words. One poem that Mr. Fisher had us memorize that sticks in my mind still, although I can no longer recite more than a few lines, is "The Brook," by Alfred Lord Tennyson. "I slip, I slide, I gloom, I glide.../For men may come and men may go/But I go on forever."

"The Particular Sadness of Lemon Cake"

"The Particular Sadness of Lemon Cake" (Doubleday, 2010), by Aimee Bender, tells the story of a young girl, Rose, who discovers she can taste the emotions of the person who made the food she is eating. Emailing with my friend C., I discovered that we each, independently, had read reviews of this novel and were resisting reading it because it sounded gimmicky. I, however, had seen it in the library and something made me pick it up anyway, thinking I could always stop reading it if I didn't like it. To my surprise, I found the book entrancing, thoughtful, sensitive, and beautifully written. The "gimmick" of the story, Rose's ability to taste emotions in food, is really only a fresh way to explore the feelings of a young girl growing up in a family where there is much love and support but also much sadness and many secrets. Rose's father is loving but has trouble communicating, her mother is devoted but dissatisfied and vague, and her older brother is a genius who lives in his own little world of the imagination. Each character is quirky and complex, and often baffled by her or his life. I grew quite attached to Rose and her family, and was touched by the surprising, bittersweet ending. I have now pressed this book on C., and would like to press it on you as well.

"Major Pettigrew's Last Stand"

"Major Pettigrew's Last Stand" (Random House, 2010). Isn't that a great title? I know that I often post negative or mixed "reviews" of novels here, but today I wholeheartedly recommend this novel by Helen Simonson. The setting is a small town in England: Edgecombe St. Mary (another of those great British names), in the present. The main characters are Major Pettigrew and Mrs. Ali, the neighbor with whom - despite obstacles - the Major develops a friendship and then a romance. These two characters are very likable and complex; they, along with the other characters, are beautifully drawn. The plot is interesting and well-constructed; it, along with the characters, kept me eagerly reading. Village England, besides being the setting, is practically another character in this novel. Although it has many of the characteristics we Anglophiles are so familiar with, in fiction if not in actual close-up knowledge, it is more complicated than its usual portrayal. The author is not afraid to show not only the good points about England and about village life today, but also the defects, such as prejudices, materialism, and lack of respect for the past. Although in some ways the novel has a strong flavor of the past, it also acknowledges how England is changing and becoming more multicultural; this acknowledgment is, happily, more than lip service. But the major (so to speak!) drama and draw of this novel are the internal struggles and changes that the noble but very human Major Pettigrew goes through during the course of the narrative. Please find and read this wonderful novel!