So That's Where That Good Book Scent Comes From...

My friend and colleague Andrea sent me a "wall post" with a quote from "Perfumes: The Guide," that she thought -- rightly! -- that I would enjoy. I think I have mentioned here that I -- like many of you, I am sure -- love the smell of books. This quotation says that there is a substance in trees called lignin, which "is a polymer made up of units that are closely related to vanillin. When made into paper and stored for years, it breaks down and smells good. Which is how divine providence has arranged for secondhand bookstores to smell like good quality vanilla absolute, subliminally stoking a hunger for knowledge in all of us." So there is a scientific reason that old books smell so good! I don't think I had identified that smell as being related to vanilla, but it makes sense, as vanilla is such a soothing, feel-good scent.

"The World We Found," by Thrity Umrigar

It is a common theme: the inseparable group of friends who have grown up together, or met at camp or in high school or in college. I always fall for this type of story. In Thrity Umrigar's novel, "The World We Found," the four friends met at their university in Bombay (before it was Mumbai) in the 1970s, 30 years before the main action in the novel. At college they were idealistic, fought political fights, loved, lost, and were always there for each other. OK, this is all familiar stuff, even a little formulaic, although in this case it is set in India, which provides some variety through the setting and cultural aspects. Since the four are mostly of the upper class, their lives are in some ways not so very different from those of the upper class around the world. But Umrigar (mostly) makes us care about these four women, and now 30 years later when one of them, now in America, is very ill and wants the other three to come visit, and to do so as soon as possible, various complications set in. There are secrets from the past and present that jeopardize this plan. The four friends, with some help from husbands and others, have to pull together to overcome obstacles. There are issues of social class, of religion, of gender restrictions, and of sexual identity threaded throughout the novel. I wouldn't recommend going way out of your way to read this novel, but, overall, I liked it; it was an enjoyable read.

"They Were Sisters," by Dorothy Whipple

I seem to be on a bit of a Dorothy Whipple binge. Sometimes when I discover a new (to me) writer whose work I really like, I find and read more and more of that author’s work. I imagine some of you do the same. I recently (on 1/24/12 and 1/30/12) wrote about two of Whipple’s books, and now I have read a third: “They Were Sisters” (Persephone, 2005; originally published by John Murray, 1943). I think I like this novel best of the Whipple books I have read so far. It describes the interlocking lives of three sisters who have taken different paths and married very different men. Lucy is the oldest sister, the one who in childhood always watched and worried over the two younger sisters, and still does. She is in a good, happy marriage with a quirky but kind and compatible man. Charlotte, however, marries a man, Geoffrey, who turns out to be a nasty, horrible, sadistic husband who ruins the lives of his wife and his children. Vera, the most beautiful one, marries a man who adores her, Brian, but whom she doesn’t really love. She enjoys the comfortable lifestyle Brian provides her, has a number of flirtations and even affairs, and finally her marriage crumbles. Her children are somewhat neglected, although they are better off than their cousins, Charlotte and Geoffrey’s children. Lucy is the one who tries to keep the family together and to help her sisters, but nothing she can do really changes things. She does manage, however, to help some of her sisters’ children. Despite the despair and sadness of parts of the story, there is the redeeming power of the love among the sisters, and especially of Lucy’s constant caring and efforts to help her sisters and their children. And it turns out that at least some of the children will survive and even be happy, despite their miserable childhoods. This novel is deeply compelling; I couldn’t stop reading it. The writing is impressive. I am quite sure I will be reading more of Whipple’s fiction very soon.

Happy 200th Birthday, Charles Dickens!

Belated (one day late) 200th birthday greetings to Charles Dickens! This great novelist has given so much pleasure to so many readers for so long. NPR.org had a nice article about Dickens' birthday yesterday, in which Linda Wertheimer quoted Dickens biographer Clare Tomalin as saying "After Shakespeare, Dickens is the great creator of characters, multiple characters." Dickens' novels often contain 100 characters. Tomalin tells us that "David Copperfield" was Dickens' favorite of his own novels. In the same NPR article, novelist Jennifer Egan (a San Francisco native) reminds us how relevant Dickens still is. For example, she says, in 'Bleak House," "one of the major characters is [in] corporate litigation, and the way in which it consumes all kinds of people associated with it" is very relevant today. Egan goes on to get to the heart of the matter: the way Dickens' novels catch up and entrance readers. She tells of a a recent experience, in which "I was on a very bumpy plane ride, an overnight flight. I was so miserable, and I pulled out 'David Copperfield,' and I forgot how scared and tired I was, and I thought, 'This is what reading should be.' I'm utterly transported out of my current situation." Thank you, Charles Dickens, for your wonderful novels.

Guest Post: "Hotel on the Corner of Bitter and Sweet," by James Ford

I am very pleased to introduce a guest post by my colleague, Sue Bae. Thank you, Sue, for this thoughtful review, below.

What started out as a consideration for some of my more advanced ESL students turned out to be a treat for me. James Ford’s debut novel, “Hotel on the Corner of Bitter and Sweet” (Ballantine, 2009), though it probably won’t win any literary awards, is a poignant story of two innocents: Henry, a young Chinese American boy, and Keiko, a Japanese American girl, who meet and develop a deep friendship in the midst of the turmoil of the WW II years. Unlike for those around them, including Henry’s parents, race, ethnicity, and politics mean nothing to them except that they are what keep the two apart. I found myself cheering for the two, and urging them on in their valiant efforts to overcome the obstacles laid before them, the worst of which was Keiko’s family’s forcible imprisonment in a Japanese internment camp with the rest of the residents of Seattle’s Japantown. What I initially appreciated about the story was that there are no harsh words about or condemnations of the national policies that brought on such tragedies. It is Ford’s ability to keep politics out of his story that makes it so sweet and tender. (Steinbeck’s “Of Mice and Men” comes to mind.) But I, and I’m sure other readers as well, could not help but taste the bitter, when reading that others merely looked on while guiltless people, innocents like Henry and Keiko, were stripped of their rights and homes, and other minority groups did nothing to help them in their common struggle for social justice. Henry’s father, one of many Chinese Americans trying to survive the times, has his son wear an “I am Chinese” button on his jacket to keep him from being mistaken for Japanese. He rages at Henry for hiding Keiko’s family treasures in his room for safekeeping, and does not speak to or acknowledge his son when he befriends a Japanese girl. Of course, this was all done out of fear. Through the bitter years of separation, Henry and Keiko live their lives as best they can, finding what happiness they can, just as countless people had to do in those times. Henry and Keiko’s story is, I believe, a testament to human resilience in times of struggle and the ability to find happiness even in wretched circumstances. Ford tells a very bittersweet tale of the history of his hometown and his heritage, and I believe Seattleites and those, like me, who hold the city in high regard, will enjoy reading about it. I have recently learned about another story about the internment of the Japanese, also told from a child’s perspective, “When the Emperor Was Divine,” by Julie Otsuka, which received very good reviews. [Editor’s note: This novel was the subject of a 1/15/12 post here.] One guess what my next bedtime reading will be.

"An Available Man," by Hilma Wolitzer

It is a well-known truth that widowers are soon presented with many opportunities for new romance and marriage. "An Available Man" (Ballantine, 2012), Hilma Wolitzer's new novel, focuses on this situation. Edward Schuyler's wife Bee has just died, and Edward, in his early sixties, is devastated. He and Bee had had a very happy, loving marriage. To deal with his grief, he tries to lose himself in his teaching and in staying involved in the lives of his mother-in-law and his young adult stepchildren. Those children, after a time, without Edward's knowledge or permission but with good intentions, put an ad in the personals section in the back of The New York Review of Books on his behalf. He is uninterested, yet tries to be a good sport and eventually meets a few of the many women who have replied to the ad. Suddenly the woman who had left him at the altar long before he met and married Bee comes back into his life. There are many complications, but finally there is a happy ending (but not the one you might predict). This novel is delightful and charming. Edward is a very human and very likable character, and some of the other characters are also well-developed and engaging; Edward's mother-in-law is one such, for example. One of the several things I like about this novel is its portrayal of older characters, and of the romantic relationships that older characters can and do have. "An Available Man" is an enjoyable and satisfying "good read," something Wolitzer is known for.

"Tina's Mouth: An Existential Comic Diary"

“Tina’s Mouth: An Existential Comic Diary” (Houghton Mifflin Harcourt, 2011) is startlingly similar to “In Zanesville,” which I reviewed here on 1/23/12. Both are about young teenagers (around 15 years old) moving between childhood and young adulthood, experiencing the pains and pleasures of high school, of young love, first kisses, drama, great fluctuations in moods, tiffs with friends, and more. “Tina’s Mouth,” written by Keshni Kashyap and illustrated by Mari Araki, is a West Coast, multicultural version of this classic “young girl coming of age” story. What makes it stand out is that it is a graphic novel. The device that shapes the story is that Tina is assigned in her honors English class to keep a diary in which she writes about her life and feelings as if in a letter addressed to Jean-Paul Sartre. A quirky device, to be sure, but somehow it works. In general, I am not drawn to graphic novels, but have read and enjoyed a few, such as Marjane Satrapi’s “Persepolis,” Gene Luen Yang’s “American Born Chinese,” and Posy Simmonds’ “Gemma Bovery” and “Tamara Drewe.” In “Tina’s Mouth,” the main character (Tina) is an Indian American girl living in Los Angeles. We get to know her parents, her older sister and brother, her best friend, her big crush, her English teacher, her partner in the play she stars in, and various other relatives and friends. In other words, within the confines of a graphic novel, Kashyap and Araki create a whole world and a whole cast of characters. One thing I particularly like, besides the realistic picture of a young girl’s moods, problems, and triumphs, is the way her ethnicity is portrayed. It is an important part of who she is, and we see that she is part of an extended community of Indian Americans. But she is not defined by her ethnicity; it is just one part of her identity. I am also intrigued by trying to figure out how much of the pleasure of reading this graphic novel is the words and how much is the illustrations. All in all, this graphic novel is charming and engaging.