Jason B. Rosenthal  |  Fiction Memoir

2020, 239 pages

Too saccharine for me.  And Rosenthal can’t write.

This is the story of a widower whose wife published an article titled “You May Want to Marry my Husband” ten days before she died.

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Toni Morrison| Fiction, 1970

216 pages

I watched the PBS special on Toni Morrison, which is excellent, and it inspired me to reread The Bluest Eye.  This is the story of Pecola Breedlove, a Black girl In America who has learned racial self-loathing at a very young age, and yearns for the pretty blue eyes that so many White girls have.  While sad and insightful, rereading it was not as powerful or profound as I anticipated.  If you have never read this first novel by Morrison, I do suggest it.  As with all her novels, she tells the stories of being Black from the perspective of being Black.  Black readers confirm they see themselves for the first time in literature when they read Toni Morrison.

Yoko Ogawa | Fiction 2003

(English translation 2009), 180 pages

This is a poignant and endearing tale about the Professor who was in an accident 17 years ago.  He can remember things from before his accident, but since ... only exactly 80 minutes can he remember.  Though many housekeepers don’t last long working with this odd man, one housekeeper manages to forge a brilliant relationship.  The Housekeeper and her young son Root come to love this man.

The Professor is a mathematician, and though his short-term memory is gone, his mathematical brilliance remains fully intact.  A central theme to this book is the Professor sharing mathematical principles and problems with his caretakers.  It probably helps if you have a love for math like I do, or at least a willingness to enjoy its elegance.

Ogawa’s writing simply flows.  An example.  “I also like the way he wrote his numbers with his little stub of a pencil. The 4 was so round it looked like a knot of ribbon, and the 5 was leaning so far forward it seemed about to tip over.”  Pg 62

I highly recommend this beautiful book for a summer afternoon.

Edward Carey| Historical fiction, 2018

433 pages

Absolutely delightful.  Mostly.  I found Carey’s writing to be very readable and engaging.  And throughout the book are drawings that truly inform the story. (You may not want to listen to this book, but see it visually …)

Anne Marie Grosholtz, soon to be nicknamed Little, was born in 1761 in Alsace, France.  As a very young girl, her parents died and she is apprenticed to Dr. Phillipe Curtius, who becomes her mentor and who raises her.  Curtius fashions body parts of wax, for use in the scientific and medical communities.  But soon, he has an idea to make wax heads, and together Marie and Curtius move to Paris into the home of Widow Picot and her son Edmond, The Monkey House, where they make heads of local personages and also murderers.

Most of the book is about her years as a child, a teenager, and a young adult growing her professional skills, but hated by the Widow Picot.  As news of her skill grows, Marie is called to the Palace of Versailles, where the royal family lives, and she befriends and teaches Princess Elizabeth.  She lives in a cupboard ... apparently typical of "lesser" people at that time n the Palace.

Delightful writing and a delightful story.  About two-thirds of the way in, the turbulent French Revolution throws everything into chaos, and Curtius and Little begin to fashion heads of men who were killed in the revolution.  Here is where the book becomes a little less delightful.  The author Carey explains the gore and the effects of the French Revolution, but gives no context ... no why, no understanding of the politics.  It took him 15 years to write this book.  I think he did so much research and knew so much that he lost sight of what his readers did and did not know.  The Revolution was not explained, and I found that confusing and lacking.

Many reviewers call this tale macabre.  I did not experience it as macabre so much as a story about creativity and innovation; about the development of a unique business proposition; and about bizarre relationships among very-well developed characters.  Carey’s characters are rich and deep.

Around the same time that the book begins to explore the Revolution, I went on the internet, seeking to understand some terms and some people and only then discovered that Little is historical fiction, loosely based on the life of Madame Tussaud.  I did not know that for most of the book!

I definitely think this book is worth your time.  I remain somewhat astounded by the characters and the times in which they live.  Little was recommended by my friend Mary who read it in her book club.

Robin DiAngelo| Nonfiction, 2018

192 pages

I think I am behind my friends and colleagues in reading this book.  It was on my list before the pandemic and before George Floyd, but I just read it now (in one Sunday afternoon).  Yes, I believe we all should read White Fragility.  You might not experience huge revelations, but it will definitely heighten your awareness about the white contexts in which we blindly live.  Because I know my perspective is biased as a white, I looked for reviews written by people of color.  One black reviewer said this book gave her hope.  Another said he thought this book should be required reading for all BIPOCs because it explains so much about the dominant context.

DiAngelo explains what she sees as systemic racism and makes a case for it being systemic white supremacist racism.  She sees white supremacy not as a fringe value, but something that is inherent in the system.

I really liked Chapter 10, which demonstrates fragility.  How, if you must give me feedback about something I have said or done that might be construed as racist or race-ignorant, you should do so with kindness, and the right tone, at the right time, only after we have built trust, privately, ensuring I am safe, having acknowledged my good intentions .... otherwise I might cry (sucking all the energy and emotion to me instead of you, who felt the impact of what I said). Or walk away.  Or get angry.  Or sulk.  Or disengage.  Chapters 9-12, more specifically about fragility rather than systemic racism, are quite powerful and informative.

A difficult sentence I highlighted from the Introduction:  I believe the white progressives cause the most daily damage to people of color.  I define white progressives as white people who think they are not racist, or are less racist, or are in the “choir”, or already “get it.”

While I think her psychological, sociological, and interpersonal views are well-substantiated, some of the more factual components of our history are not her strong points.  For example, DiAngelo says Affirmative Action never applied to private companies, only government agencies.  Untrue.  Private employers who do more than $50,000 business with the government, or who have more than 50 employees were required to develop Affirmative Action Plans.  Where is her editor at Beacon Press, and who is fact-checking?

So, in conclusion, yes I recommend this book for anyone who is curious about themselves and their role in systemic racism.  And it is neither a long nor a heavy. read.

Ivy Pochoda| Fiction, 2020

334 pages

First, I digress.  I wanted to say that this book is not good writing.  But suddenly I realized, what does that mean?  What is good writing?  What is bad writing?  How can I call a book good or bad writing?  What the heck do I know?

So, I did some research.  I found professors, authors, editors, publishers ... there is almost no agreement on what makes writing good.  I often notice at book club someone will say a book was well-written, and someone else will agree.  Now I wonder, what do they mean?

Here are six different lists of qualities of good writing ...

1. Focus, development, unity, correctness, coherence
2. Purpose, audience, clarity, unity, coherence
3. Structure, ideas, correctness
4. Voice, ideas, presentation, conventions, word choice, sentence fluency
5. Bad writing is boring and defensive; good writing makes the reader vulnerable
6. Good content, focus, precise language, good grammar

And here are some of the impacts of good writing ...

• Touches the reader
• Makes the reader richer
• Makes the reader want more
• Unveils the unexpected
• Gives insight
• Tells a story
• Makes the reader feel less alone
• Makes the reader ask for more
• Does something with the reader’s feelings
• Makes readers discover what they did not know

So, all of that does not help me assess what is “good” and what is “bad” writing.  It feels rather scattered and somewhat subjective.  I like writing to engage my mind and heart; interesting language; a sense of purpose; character depth (or depth of concept in nonfiction); ease; fast pace; a path to follow that builds on itself; correct grammar.  How do YOU define “good writing”?

Now, on to These Women. We meet characters in bleak and gritty South LA who seem on the surface somewhat disreputable ... prostitutes, workers on the fringes of the sex trade, such as a dancer, a performance artist who douses her naked self with blue paint, the owner of a fish shack, and mothers and fathers of these professional women.  And yet, they are all trying to survive in a violent and disrespectful world.  Not all of them do survive.

That is where Esmeralda Perry comes in. Essie is a demoted vice cop who sees the patterns and recognizes a serial killer is at work in their midst.  And then the mystery unfolds.

So, back to bad writing and good writing.  I found the first half of These Women did not have much unity, coherence, connection, or focus.  The characters, though deep and quirky, were presented individually, and were confusing.  Dead hummingbirds, a white middle-aged female stalker, and a iPhone photographer add spice to their stories.   Essie begins to tie the threads of their lives together, at the half-way point in this book, and then a story emerges.  The killer, by the way, is not a big surprise, but does have a fascinating psyche.

Yes, it is worth a read about a slice of life you may be as unfamiliar with as I am.  Just stay with the puzzlement of the first half.  Recommended on NPR.

And let us know how you define “good” writing, please!

Trevor Noah | Nonfiction Memoir 2016/2019

293  pages

I LOVE this book!  If you want to read about a difficult subject, be sure you read it as written by a comedian.  Born a Crime is Trever Noah’s memoir about growing up in South Africa during, and shortly after the end of, apartheid.  With a black mother and a white father, Trevor was born mixed-race. It was illegal to be mixed-race, hence he was “born a crime.”

I read this book the Fourth of July weekend.  It is absorbing.  Noah tells such a good story, and you will learn much about the numerous and varied racial groups in South Africa, and the completely illicit distribution of power.  It sounds depressing, doesn’t it?  But not the way Noah writes it, through the eyes and actions of a child, teenager, and young adult.  Noah is now the host of The Daily Show on Comedy Central, lives in New York City, and his book is truly educational and remarkable.  I highly recommend it.

Two interesting facts.  There is an adult version and a young adult version.  Apparently there is little difference, except swear words like “shit“ are replaced with more socially  acceptable words like “poop.”  And my friends tell me the audio book, with Trevor Noah reading, is excellent.

Mary Lawson| Fiction, 2002

295 pages

Crow Lake is described as a “slow-burning” novel.  Set in rural northern Ontario, the story reflects the flat hardship of the terrain.  Kate, her older brothers Matt and Luke, and her baby sister Bo are orphaned ... and survive together, alone, with the help of their local community.  Twenty years later, the poignancy of their stories, and the ways they supported and abandoned one another in their tightly woven familial bonds, continue to impact their lives.

I enjoyed this story, though I won’t give it a wholehearted endorsement.  It is a quiet story that will bring to mind your relationships with your siblings, if you have any.  I was particularly enamored by the setting, as most of my family lives in Ontario.  A personal favorite interaction, which may not bring a smile to your face unless you are Ontario-savvy, is this:

I said, “Haven’t you ever been up north?”

He pondered.  “Barrie.  I’ve been to Barrie.”

“Barrie!  Good God, Daniel!  Barrie’s not north!

Pg 38

Jenny Offill |  Fiction, 2020

204?/225? pages

Recommended by my colleague and friend Dan, I don’t seem to understand this little book.  Lizzie is a librarian in a University library.  She helps her drug-addicted brother cope and maybe recover; she fantasizes about the end of the world and prepares for her “doomstead;” she clearly loves her son Eli and her husband Ben.   Some reviewers say she is an amateur therapist, but I see no evidence of that in the book.  She asks an insightful question sometimes.  That’s all.  There are many interesting sentences and paragraphs but no discernible plot.  Reviews are mostly 5’s and 1’s ... not a lot of middle road.  I will look forward to reading about what you liked about this book, Dan, and anyone else who read it and liked it.

Jennifer Finney Boylan | Nonfiction Memoir 2020

249 pages

I thought Good Boy: My Life in a Seven Dogs was one of those sappy books where a dog and its owner fall inextricably in love and then at the end the dog dies and the reader weeps.  Actually, I was hoping it was one of those books.

It isn’t.  Instead it is exactly what it claims to be ... “my life.”  It is a memoir of the author’s life, age 11 to age 60-ish.  Dogs play an important role, but they are not the central characters. When the book begins, the author is James.  When the book ends, the author is Jennifer.  Remarkably, she spends nearly 30 years as James before she transitions.

This book is not the least bit preachy or political.  It is simply an honest heartfelt story of one person’s life.  There is nothing particularly remarkable about this person’s life, other than the obvious truth, and the fact that he and she had some of the most misbehaved and undisciplined dogs I have ever read about.  Interestingly, this is at least the fourth memoir Boylan has written about her life (and her 16th book).  She apparently tells her story though a variety of lenses, including parenting from both genders.

I enjoyed Good Boy very much.  I don’t know how it would read if you have read any of her other memoirs, but this being my first, I found her writing style light, sometimes humorous, (especially about her crazy dogs), vulnerable, very self-aware, and insightful.  I both learned and was entertained.