"Cleopatra's Sister"

One of the first writers I wrote about on this blog was Penelope Lively (on 1/25/10), one of my very favorite contemporary authors. She writes beautifully, her novels have intriguing plots and settings, her characters come alive, and she thoroughly understands human nature. On my trip to Kelowna, British Columbia last week for a wonderful family reunion on the beautiful Okanagan Lake, I took along paperback copies of three of Lively's novels, all of which I had already read, but wanted to re-read, knowing they would be good company on the trip. The first one I read was "Cleopatra's Sister" (Penguin, 1993). This novel tells the story of a flight from England to Nairobi that makes an emergency landing in the fictional North African country of Callimbia (Libya?), where the passengers are taken hostages as bargaining chips with England. The two main characters, passengers Howard and Lucy, are drawn to each other during the ordeal. Much of the book is about their back stories, as well as the back story of Callimbia, which includes the historical story of Cleopatra's sister, and then these strands gradually come together in the suspenseful telling of the hostage-taking. This is not one of Lively's best novels, being a bit schematic and with a storyline a bit too "torn from the headlines." But even lesser Lively is wonderful, and I enjoyed the novel. If you have never read Lively's work, I recommend you begin with one of the following novels: Moon Tiger; Heat Wave; The Photograph; Consequences; or her recent Family Album. I can almost guarantee that if you read one of her novels, you will read more.

Senator's Sex Scandal and Its Effects on His Family

Jennifer Weiner says in the acknowledgments section of "Fly Away Home" (Atria, 2010) that this book "actually got its start ten years ago, before anyone had heard of Silda Spitzer, Elizabeth Edwards, [or] Dina Matos McGreevey..." Her novel about a senator whose affair with a young aide is discovered and becomes a big scandal is, then, very timely. (However, we should remember that there has always been such behavior by some politicians, but in the past it was more likely to be hushed up, whereas now everything is on the news, blogs, gossip sites, etc.) In any case, this novel is less about the affair and the ensuing publicity than about the effects on the senator's longtime wife and on his two grown daughters, each of whom is already struggling with her own difficult personal issues, which include drug addiction, low self-esteem, an unhappy marriage, and adultery. During the course of the story, each of these three women learns much about herself and about each other, draws closer to her family members, and gradually works toward a better future. The story is not profound, but it is engaging, readable, and enjoyable.

Sad Loss of School Libraries

Do you remember the excitement of going to your school library when you were a child? I have written here before about how important public libraries and university libraries are; school libraries are also extremely important, and unfortunately an increasing number of school libraries are underfunded, understaffed, and inadequately stocked. According to Susan Thompson of the California School Library Association (San Francisco Chronicle, 8/8/10, Insight p. E11, "Letters to Insight"), school libraries are "in trouble" in California and elsewhere. School librarians are increasingly reassigned to classrooms or leaving the profession. This is a sad loss. Not only do libraries get children interested in books, but "studies have documented the positive and measurable impact that library programs have on student achievement even when poverty, parent education and language are factored into the equation" (Thompson). I can still remember the joys of going to libraries at various schools I attended, browsing through the displays and stacks, and taking home armfuls of books. I also remember school librarians reading to us and generating excitement about various books. This defunding of school libraries is very sad, and should be unacceptable.

Which Art Do You Love Best?

Most people who are interested in one of the arts – literature, music, painting, sculpture, theater, dance, opera, film, etc. – are also interested in one or more other arts. This is true for me as well; I go to museums, galleries, concerts, and plays. I took art history classes in college. When I travel, I always look for art museums and for concerts. I buy art books and various types of music on CDs. I go to “art films.” I particularly love dance performances. These arts all give me aesthetic pleasure, teach me, and often move me intensely. My life would be far poorer without my experiences with them. But none of the other arts have anything close to the powerful attraction and influence on me that literature has. I am not sure if this is because I had more exposure to books when I was a child than I had to the other arts, or if I am hardwired to be a “written word” person rather than a visual or aural person, or if there is some other reason. Whatever the reason, my truest and most compelling passion among the arts, by far, has always been literature. I wonder if it is true for most people, as it is for me, that they can appreciate and enjoy several arts, but there is one genre, one art, that stands far above the rest for them and is their “true love” aesthetically and emotionally. What do you think?

Addicted to Reading?

Sometimes I wonder if I am addicted to reading. When I say this to friends, they usually say, “If you are, it’s a good kind of addiction.” And I obviously basically agree with this assessment; reading is a powerful, informative, illuminating, productive, and enjoyable activity. If it is an addiction, it is certainly better than many other kinds of addictions. But like all addictions, it sometimes interferes with other parts of one’s life. Sometimes I think I read when I should be doing other things. If it is an addiction, it is one I have had since I was a child, and I doubt I could ever wean myself away from it. It is too powerful an addiction for me, too central an activity in my life.

A Low-Maintenance Art

One convenient aspect of reading is that it requires no equipment and little expense. Aside from procuring the book itself at a bookstore or library, or from a friend, nothing else is required. Other arts and avocations generally require more. Visual art requires trips to museums and galleries; music requires going to concerts or at least regularly stocking one’s I-Pod or CD player; dance and theater require going to performance spaces; and so on. Books have a few available accessories – e.g., shelves, bookends, reading lamps, dust covers, bookmarks – but these are optional. Books are gloriously portable, unencumbering and unencumbered; we can throw them into briefcases, book bags, beach bags, purses, or pockets when we go out, thus having them available to read on buses, subways, and planes, and in cafes and parks. Books are also sturdy, not fragile, so (except for the occasional rare or valuable book) we don’t need to fuss over them or be overly protective of them. And there they are, always ready to be opened up and read, always ready to provide enjoyment, information, enlightenment, connection, and so much more. Think of it: little alternative (yet familiar) worlds always at our fingertips: what could be better?

A Love letter to Newspapers

As we all know, newspapers are an endangered species in this era of the Internet. Here I won’t go into the many important reasons that Internet news cannot and should not replace print journalism (but I do note that much of the news on the Internet is taken directly from in-print newspapers; who else does investigations and reporting in depth?). Supplement, yes; replace, no. Here I just want to write a little love letter to newspapers. I have read and enjoyed newspapers since I was a child; I read them daily, and feel deprived and twitchy without them. When I lived in India as a child, we took an English language newspaper called, if I remember rightly, the Madras Mail. When my family moved to Michigan, we read the Detroit Free Press, and I continued reading it for all the years I lived in Michigan, and even occasionally in the years after I left; I greeted it as an old friend when I went back during summer weeks at my parents’ lakeside cottage or visits to my friend in Ann Arbor. When I moved to San Francisco, I started reading the San Francisco Chronicle, and have read it ever since. The Chronicle is now rather sadly thin and diminished, but I am very fond of it, and can’t do without it. I do read The New York Times occasionally, and subscribe to its Book Review, and I read other newspapers when I travel, but my day in, day out newspaper is the Chronicle, and I am very loyal to it. What is better than reading the morning paper with one’s morning coffee? My husband and I amicably divide the sections, and then trade. The bulkier Sunday paper with its lovely supplements (magazines, book review, travel and food sections, comics, etc.) is a special pleasure. It’s a great way to ease into the new day. I love the physical aspect of holding the paper in my hands; I even love the smell of newsprint, although in recent years I have developed a slight allergy to the smell, just as my late father did; however, a few sneezes can't stop me from reading newspapers! I hope that there are enough of us that feel so passionate about, and loyal to, print newspapers that they will survive and prosper.