Why I Read So Much

As I have mentioned here before, I often read several books at the same time. In addition, I may be listening to an audiobook in my car, and reading stories in magazines. So during any period of time, I have several stories streaming through my mind, and I thrive on that. I sometimes wonder if this love of, even dependence on, a constant stream of stories is maybe a little unhealthy, a means of escape or avoidance of my real life. On the other hand, I revel in the way so many stories open up the world to so much knowledge of how people live and feel in so many places, so many contexts, so many situations. In what other way could I possibly be exposed to such a panoply of human experience? And to such knowledge? In what other way could I both realize the variety of human experience and understand its universals? To me, what reading, especially reading fiction, does for us is a miracle, a way of extending ourselves out into the world. Yes, our own experiences are very important, as are those of our family and friends and others we know, observe, and speak with firsthand. Yes, there are other important ways to extend our experiences, such as education and travel, which I also value highly. But nothing else can give us the breadth of experience than reading can. And the huge bonus is that reading is also such a rich and enjoyable experience. I know the above thoughts are not original by any means, but once in a while I like to stop and reflect on the grandness, depth and breadth that reading brings to our lives.

"Turn of Mind," by Alice LaPlante

After I read Alice LaPlante’s novel “A Circle of Wives,” which I wrote about last week (5/26/14), I decided to read her earlier novel, the bestselling “Turn of Mind” (Atlantic Monthly Press, 2011). This too is a sort of murder mystery, but one incredibly complicated by the fact that the main suspect is a former doctor, Jennifer White, a woman in her mid-sixties who has had to retire because of the onset of Alzheimer’s. The story is told through Dr. White’s own observations, journals, and random thoughts, as well as her interactions with her caregiver and her two grown children, all of whom have their own complicated lives, motivations, secrets, and agendas. The police investigating the crime must struggle through the frustration of dealing with Jennifer’s shifting condition and memory; some days she is quite clear and others not at all. I must admit that upon initially looking at the premise of the book, and the fact that much of it is told through the eyes of a woman with dementia, I was somewhat daunted, and considered not reading it. But after a few pages, I was utterly engaged in it, and I read it in a few hours. The character of Dr. White is a fascinating one, even as she alternates among a deep fog, acerbic comments, and deeply etched memories of her career as a very capable and respected doctor, and as a wife and mother. Of course the topic of Alzheimer’s and other forms of dementia is one much discussed these days, as we all know sufferers of these diseases. (And by coincidence, the book discussed in the guest post here of 5/31/14 also addressed dementia.) LaPlante reminds us of the strange, deeply debilitating, tragic effects of the disease, yet also reminds us of the humanity and personalities of those affected by it. She honors them by acknowledging their true selves, not just focusing on their current conditions. Finally, the solution to the mystery in "Turn of Mind" is a satisfying one, one with an unexpected twist. This post is dedicated, with love, to those in my life who have experienced this disease, including my late grandmother F., my late Uncle L., my late Aunt J., my Uncle B., and my friend B.'s husband S., as well as their closest family members and friends who have loved and supported them amidst the sadness and difficulties of watching the progress of the disease.

Guest Post: "Can't We Talk about Something More Pleasant?" by Roz Chast

My friend Mary emailed me about how much she liked the New Yorker cartoonist Roz Chast’s new graphic/cartoon book, “Can’t We Talk about Something More Pleasant?” (Bloomsbury, 2014). I have now read it and agree that it is wonderful. But Mary described the book, and her own reactions to it, so well that, with her kind permission, the rest of this post is a slightly edited version of her email. Mary says: “This book reads like a novel – or a gripping memoir, which it is. It’s a combination of funny and heartbreaking. It describes her parents during the last few years of their lives, when they are very old. Chast had a very unhappy childhood, and an especially difficult mother. Her parents are both now dead. But despite this, I laughed out loud, with tears of hilarity rolling down my face during much of the time I read it. Yet much of it was also very touching, brutally, unflatteringly honest, and very sad. Sometimes the sad parts and the hilarious parts were interwoven. The written and the visual combine in a powerful way, as they do in graphic novels. Since I read it, the theme of her story has been haunting me. Chast is unblinking in her description of the last, raggedy endings of her parents’ lives. This is a funny, sad, lovely and eloquent book throughout.”

RIP Maya Angelou

Maya Angelou, poet, memoirist, civil rights advocate, women's rights advocate, singer, dancer, film director, and educator, died yesterday at the age of 86. She was a great woman, and had a great presence and influence. The papers and the Internet are full of details, quotes, etc., so I will simply say that I, like countless others, greatly admired her, and will here share some times and ways in which she and her work entered my life more specifically. First, some years ago, Dr. Angelou read her work at the University of San Francisco (USF), where I teach. I was awed by her work, her voice, and her presence, as were the students and other faculty in attendance. I don't think anyone who has ever seen or heard her will ever forget that experience. Second, last fall a six-evening reading/discussion group of faculty women, especially but not only faculty women of color, took place at USF; I was a member. The group was called "And Still We Rise," after Angelou's great poem "And Still I Rise." Her spirit inspired and infused the group. I have also taught that poem, and others by her. Another connection is that Angelou lived here in San Francisco on and off for many years of her life. RIP Dr. Maya Angelou.

"A Circle of Wives," by Alice LaPlante

A friend casually mentioned with approval the author Alice LaPlante, so I picked up and read a copy of her new novel, “A Circle of Wives” (Atlantic Monthly Press, 2014). All my life, I have had phases of enjoying mysteries and reading many of them, and phases of being tired of them and not reading any for years at a time. However, I have generally not liked the genre of thrillers or suspense novels. This book is a sort of literary, domestic mystery/psychological thriller, and I must say it is well written, suspenseful, and entertaining. The mystery is the murder of a respected plastic surgeon whose body has been found in a hotel room (and what was he doing there?) in Palo Alto (and readers of this blog know I enjoy books set in my geographical area, the San Francisco Bay Area; as a side note, LaPlante also lives and teaches in the Bay Area). The three main characters are the wives of the title: the three very different wives of the surgeon, to be exact. It turns out that only one wife, the first, knew about the others. Somehow the surgeon managed a busy, complicated career and being part of three different households. The other main character is the young detective assigned to the case, Samantha Adams, who has her own issues with personal relationships. So the mystery is, of course, the identity of the killer, as well as how she/he pulled it off. And LaPlante constructs a strong and mystifying puzzle, as good mystery writers should. What makes this book more than a mystery is the character development, the setting, and the very capable writing. This is a great summer read, an intriguing mystery with literary flair and panache.

"Americanah," by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie

“Americanah” (Knopf, 2013) is both a great achievement and a very enjoyable read. This novel by the accomplished writer Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie is bursting with engaging plot, compelling characters, and acerbic observations on immigration, culture, and – especially – race in America. The title refers to Nigerians who go to America. The story focuses on two characters, the young woman Ifemelu and the young man Obinze, who grow up and fall in love in Nigeria, but become distanced when Ifemelu goes to the United States and Obinze to England. In their new countries, both struggle with financial problems, discrimination, and mystification at American and English ways. Eventually they both achieve success, in Ifemelu's case in the United States, and in Obinze's case back in Nigeria; they both end up back in Nigeria after quite a few years abroad, and there they each experience a sort of reverse culture shock but also a feeling of belonging. This novel lavishly describes workplaces, houses, love affairs, relationships with families and friends, fascinating supporting characters, and much more, in three different countries; it is a BIG novel, not only in its 477-page length, but in its scope and capaciousness. It reminds me of the great 19th Century English novels of Dickens et al. But what really distinguishes this novel, on top of the compelling story and characters, is the aptness, particularity, and tartness of Ifemelu’s insights and stories about how Americans think and talk and act regarding race. The device of her writing a very popular blog on race in America enables some of these observations; others rise out of the story itself. The comments are sometimes humorous but also barbed; they will leave many a “liberal,” including me, wondering if we have been as clueless -- even if unintentionally -- about race and culture as the people she writes about. But the writing is too good for the book to be simply a kind of disguised sermon; it definitely makes the reader think, but also gives the reader the traditional pleasures of a big, well written novel with the aforementioned engaging characters and turn-the-pages-to-see-what-happens-next plot. Highly recommended.

"Cambridge," by Susanna Kaysen

Like Mona Simpson’s recent novel, “Casebook,” which I posted about last time (on 5/13/14), Susanna Kaysen’s new novel, “Cambridge” (Knopf, 2014), is told from the perspective of a child. In this case the child is a girl, Susanna, and the story tells of a family that moves from Cambridge, Massachusetts to Cambridge, England, with stays in other European cites as well, and back. Her family is academic, intellectual, and artistic. She has a kind of privileged life, but she is not necessarily happy with that life. She is obviously bright and perhaps too self-involved and self-conscious. The fact that the narrator has the same first name as the author, along with the fact that the author is best known for her memoirs, including the famous “Girl, Interrupted,” blurs the line between memoir and fiction, as other reviewers have pointed out as well. In any case, reading this novel at almost the same time as I was reading “Casebook” was instructive for me. Although the early adolescent angst of the narrator, and her complicated relationship with her family, is well portrayed and both familiar and of interest, the novel as a whole seems episodic and meandering, and the writing suffers in comparison to Mona Simpson’s. Even if I had not read these two novels almost simultaneously, I think my response to "Cambridge" would have been mild appreciation, mild enjoyment, but no more.