A Misogynistic Nobel Laureate

According to an NPR article, “Nobel Laureate V. S. Naipaul Says No Woman Is His Literary ‘Equal’” (Peralta, 6/2/11), Naipaul has stated that women are “quite different,” and that they cannot write as well as he does because of their “sentimentality, the narrow view of the world.” Naipaul, who has been revealed by biographies and other books to be violent, racist, and misogynistic, reminds us that being a good writer definitely does not translate to being a good person. Statements such as the above show him to have a “narrow view of the world” himself. I do admire some of his writing, and I believe that he has added to our understanding of the damage done by colonialism and by racism, so this kind of prejudice makes me both angry and sad, because he should know better. It is always sad to see how some people understand very well one kind of prejudice and discrimination, but are blind to other kinds. I also hold him, as a writer who has received such high level recognition, to a higher standard. Perhaps I should be able to separate my feelings about the author and about his work, and I generally try to do so, but knowing of Naipaul’s apparent contempt for and dismissal of female writers certainly makes me less likely to want to read more of his work in the future.

"Cutting for Stone"

“Cutting for Stone” (Vintage, 2009), by Abraham Verghese, is a big (667-page) saga, a bestseller. I must admit it took me a while to get through it, and I read several other books while I was chipping away at this one. But I am glad I persisted. Verghese, a physican and author of the memoir “My Own Country” about working with AIDS patients in Appalachia, which I very much liked when I read it some years ago, has written a moving epic novel about characters from India and Africa who converge on Missing Hospital in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia. The two main characters are twin brothers, Marion and Shiva Stone; other characters are their birth parents (they are born of an illicit but touching relationship), their adopted parents, and others who work at the hospital. The brothers are extremely close, considering themselves two halves of a whole, but a betrayal tears them apart, and Marion goes to the United States for further medical training. There he is successful but still haunted by his past, in both positive and negative ways. There is much in this book about family, about immigration, about love, and about death. The relationships are close and often moving. There is also much -- sometimes too much -- about medicine, although in some cases the medical crises and procedures are very dramatic. All of this takes place against the backdrop of Ethiopian history during and after the reign of Emperor Haile Selassie; the characters of the story see this history up close, and are directly -- sometimes tragically -- affected by it. I must admit that I personally was particularly drawn to a part of the book that was only a minor part of the story: the early part in South India, where I spent my childhood. The descriptions of that area, and the feelings of those who were torn between their pasts and their futures, their countries of birth and their need to go out into the world, are evocative and moving. It’s the beginning of the summer now, so if you are looking for a high-quality and enjoyable “good read,” one that takes you to other worlds, buy this book in paperback, take it with you on vacation, and get caught up in its gripping (and generally well-written) story.

"My New American Life"

The immigrant novel is a common genre in the United States, and adds new energy to American literature, just as immigrants themselves add new energy to the country. Francine Prose’s new novel, “My New American Life” (Harper, 2011) has elements of the classic immigrant novel, yet with a quirky, original energy of its own. The main character, the one through whose eyes we experience the story, is Lula, a young woman from Albania, now living in New Jersey with her employer, “Mister Stanley,” and his teenaged son, Zeke; since Zeke’s mentally ill mother, Ginger, left the family, Mister Stanley wants someone to oversee and take care of Zeke while Stanley works long hours on Wall Street. Lula meets some seemingly gangster types who are also from Albania, and falls in love –- well, thinks she may have fallen in love -- with one of them, Alvo. There is much mystery and intrigue regarding Alvo. Lula grows fond of Mister Stanley and Zeke, yet feels her life is going nowhere, staying with them in New Jersey. She is very creative, and tells and writes stories about Albania in which she exaggerates and distorts -- OK, lies, sometimes -- and watches bemusedly as those around her welcome and encourage her exotic if unlikely tales. Lula is an original character, funny and realistic and confused and positive, despite attempting to be cynical and negative. She is someone for whom we root, and who will always land on her feet. The novel is energetic, funny, enjoyable to read, and at the same time –- without belaboring the issues –- makes some important points about the lives of new immigrants in the United States.

Story Time at the Library

I have posted before about public libraries, school libraries, librarians, and browsing in libraries. I have also written about reading to children. Today I want to write about a combination of those topics: “Story Time” in libraries. Most public libraries, and some school libraries, have some variation of Story Time, sometimes daily, sometimes weekly. Librarians read to young children, lead them in song, have them repeat simple poems, and sometimes have them clap, move and dance. Sometimes puppets or small props are involved. Children respond with animation and pleasure; their laughter and bright eyes display their joy. They learn about the world of books, about language, about music and rhythm, about sharing the pleasure of books and stories, and more. Accompanying parents enjoy the experience as well; it provides special, memorable child-parent moments. When my daughter was small, I would take her to Story Time at our local branch of the public library, and was always impressed by the skill and enthusiasm of the children’s librarians, and by the joy the children expressed during these sessions. Twenty-five years later, I can still picture these happy occasions.

"Crampton Hodnet"

I recently ran across a copy of "Crampton Hodnet" (Moyer Bell, 1985), by the always delightful and insightful Barbara Pym. I have read it before, as I have read all of Pym's novels, some several times, but I couldn't resist reading it again. And who could resist a novel with such chapter titles as "Sunday Tea Party," "A Safe Place for a Clergyman," "Love in the British Museum," and "Edward and Mother Give a Tea Party"? The novel is set in North Oxford, among university dons and their families, undergraduates, nosy neighbors, and young curates. The central character, Miss Morrow, is a drab woman in her mid-thirties who makes her living as a paid companion to an annoying older woman, Miss Doggett. Miss Morrow's faded persona hides a very intelligent mind and a kind heart; she notices everything. There are flirtations, small crises, gossip, small trips, and other events...and always, always, people drinking tea together. On the surface, this novel is a light confection, and quite humorous. But there are, underlying it all, some serious questions about marriage, love, the single life, and what makes life worthwhile. There really is no author like Pym; I have always found her fiction enchanting and very funny, as well as thoughtful and thought-provoking. If you haven't read Pym's novels yet, you are in for a treat.

A Few Precious Books from My Grandmother

Because my parents both came from large families (I have over 50 first cousins and countless second and third cousins, spread around Canada and the United States), and because they moved so much, we are not the kind of family that has a lot of family heirlooms passed on from generation to generation. But we are a family who loves books, as I have written before, and I do have a very small handful of books that were my late maternal grandmother's. These are very precious to me. One is a small (about 5" by 7") hardbound volume, with a flower-sprigged and gold-gilted cover, of Thomas Carlyle's "Sartor Resartus." It is inscribed to "Fleta" (my grandmother's wonderful old-fashioned name), "Merry Xmas! 25-12-06." My grandmother would have recently graduated from high school at the time. It says volumes to me that this book would be considered an appropriate Christmas present for a young woman; somehow I can't imagine many families or friends today giving such a gift (alas!). Another book has her full married name inscribed in it, so she got it a bit later: an even smaller volume, in a dark green hard cover, titled "Masterpieces of the World's Best Literature, Vol. 8" (1905). I am not sure what happened to the other volumes in this series; perhaps some of my aunts, uncles, or cousins have them, or perhaps they have been lost over time. Some of the selections in this book, listed alphabetically by author's last name (this volume contains S-Z) and with great leaps through history, are essays, poems, stories or excerpts by Shelley, Smollett, Socrates, Sophocles, Stowe (Harriet Beecher), Thackeray, Tolstoy, Trollope, Turgenieff (the spelling this book uses), Washington (George), Whitman, Wordsworth, and Zola. Note that in this book, the "world's" best literature was heavily English, with a very few token Greek, Russian, and French authors represented. A third book, still smaller, with a textured brown cover and with my grandmother's married name written in her own handwriting on the flyleaf (why do we seldom use the word "flyleaf" nowadays?), is Longfellow's "The Song of Hiawatha"; this particular volume was published in 1898. These three lovely little volumes -- all so full of character, beauty, and literary history -- sit on my bookshelf, representing my family and in particular my dear grandmother (a teacher as well as mother of seven). I cherish them.

"Suburban Dreams"

My friend Beth Yarnelle Edwards has had exhibitions of her art photography all over the United States and Europe, and in India. Her work has been featured in many publications, including Harper's and The New Yorker, and has received multiple awards. Now she has had a book of her photographs published by Kehrer in Germany; there is also an English language version, soon to be available in the United States. These stunning color photographs are windows into middle class life in Silicon Valley, California, as well as in France, Germany, Spain, and The Netherlands. They are impressive in their composition and fascinating in what they reveal. One could spend a long time looking at all the telling details in each photograph. There's an older couple in their kitchen, several teenagers and children in their suburban bedrooms and playrooms, and several people in bed, just to name a few subjects. The settings are various rooms of various houses, often elaborately overdecorated but sometimes artistically spare, as well as driveways with basketball hoops, and garages. Each one suggests a whole world. Viewers become curious about the individuals, about the families, about the cultures that are portrayed; our imaginations are engaged. This book is a large, handsome one, beautifully produced; each photograph has its own page. There are introductory essays by the critics Robert Evren and Christoph Tannert that are illuminating, putting Edwards' work in context and helping readers see some of the artistic subtleties of the work. This is an impressive collection of photographs.