The Saint of Cabora

The Hummingbird's Daughter has been on my watch list for probably a decade or so.  I think I first heard about it on one of the historical fiction forums in which I used to participate.  Words like lush and vivid and lyrical were used to describe it.

But, as often happens, I just never got around to reading the book.  Other books took precedence.  Finally, I saw that it was available for audiobook download at the library, so I put it on my wish list.  Even a decade after its publication, there was a wait list for the book!  I took that as a good sign.  And after hearing only the first few instances, I was an instant fan.  It's true - the words lush, vivid and lyrical are very fitting for this novel.

The Hummingbird's Daughter is about Luis Alberto Urrea's great-aunt Teresita, a woman who was said to have great healing powers and was often called a saint in Mexico.  Teresita was born to an unmarried Indian woman and raised in great poverty by an aunt who was not a kind woman.  But she always had a great healing ability, so was accepted as an apprentice by the local healer, Huila.  Eventually, her father acknowledged her as his daughter, and from there, Teresita's life went on a very different course than she ever could have expected.

One of the reasons it took me so long to read this book was because of the strong religious undertones.  There was a lot of religion (and politics) in the second half of this book, and it became a bit tiresome and repetitive.  But there was also a lot that was amazing in this book, and I would say those aspects more than made up for the religion and repetition.  One of my favorite things about Spanish literature is the magical realism.  One of my favorite things about Luis Alberto Urrea's writing is the humor.  Combining magical realism with humor is a glorious idea, and more people should do it.  But until they do, I am happy with Urrea's approach.

I listened to The Hummingbird's Daughter on audiobook.  While I really enjoyed it - the narrator was fantastic and lively - I don't know if this book is ideal for audiobook.  Particularly in the second half of the novel, there's a lot of politics and religion and jail time and other things that just don't translate quite as well on audio as they might on paper.  I was absolutely enthralled by this story for the first 75%, but I lost a bit of steam at the end.  This is possibly because the audiobook is about 19 hours long; I admit it felt like a never-ending story, especially because the magic and humor that was present at the beginning was harder to find later on.  Kind of like The Sound of Music!  Who watches the last 25% of that movie?

The Hummingbird's Daughter is wonderful for a lot of reasons.  I loved Teresita's relationships with Huila, her teacher, and Don Tomas, her father.  Having just finished Stolen Continents, I was glad to read about an era of history that was mentioned in that book.  I loved learning more about Indian customs and the way the Spanish interacted with Indian nations, the way Teresita worked with both the Spanish and Indian sides.  The humor, the friendship, everything.  It was just a little long for audio.

Review-itas: Playing Catch-Up

I'm back from vacation and back to blogging!  I honestly didn't read a ton while I was away, but I am excited to share my thoughts on some books with you!  In an effort to get back into reviewing, but not spend a ton of time reviewing books I read months ago or about which I don't have much to say, here are some Twitter-inspired reviews (in that, Twitter inspired me to be succinct, but it's very difficult to work in 140 characters, people):

Third in a Ghanaian mystery series featuring Inspector Darko Dawson (I enjoyed the first but have not read the second, since I thought this was it), Murder at Cape Three Points tackles the environmental and economic impact of foreign oil interests on Ghana.  I appreciated learning more about this precarious balance (though maybe it's not really in balance), especially as I didn't really know there was oil drilling in Ghana.  Quartey shows the positives (big new resorts giving an economic boost to the region!) and negative (some serious conflicts of interest).  But Inspector Dawson is still hard to know, and his family is once again mostly in the background.  I would prefer more development on that front as the mystery series continues; why create so many great characters and then not give them any air time?  If Dawson's fantastic wife Christine doesn't get some spotlight in the next book, I won't be continuing on with this series.

Moving from Ghana to Zimbabwe, NoViolet Bulawayo's We Need New Names had been on my library "For Later" shelf for quite a while before the cover and the story finally captured my attention enough to get it on audiobook.  I was completely engaged at the beginning; I loved Darling's voice and the way Bulawayo shared so much about Zimbabwe by using a child narrator.  She packed a lot of information and emotion into the story; for a first novel, this is really impressive.

In the second half, Darling moves to the US.  Again, I think the author did amazing work bringing everything to life:  the difficulty of being an immigrant, the expectations of your family back home vs reality, the things that set you apart and help you fit in.  It all rang very true.

That said, I've read a lot of immigration stories in my life, and the structure of this one was pretty much the same as all the rest of them.  The writing is beautiful and evocative, but I don't think Bulawayo did much to break down any tropes.  That said, I am pretty excited about whatever she writes next.

I've been eagerly anticipating the second book in the Ms. Marvel comic series.  Generation Why doesn't disappoint.  We see Kamala further develop and understand her superpowers, and she gets more involved in the overall Marvel universe of characters by finding a pretty awesome mentor.  Savvy move by Marvel because now I feel like I should go and read more of the comics in the Marvel universe so I understand all these connections and backstories.  BUT WHERE TO START?!

I thought this book got a little preachy about how awesome the Millennial/Centennial generation is (though this didn't really surprise me, as G. Willow Wilson has a tendency to be preachy in her other books, too), but I could see that really appealing to teens, and hey, I believe in empowerment.  Such a fun series, populated with great characters I can't wait to get to know better.

I was pretty pumped to hear that Thomas King had a new book out, and snatched it up from the library as soon as I could.  The Truth About Stories is an essay collection about story-telling and how the stories we choose to tell and believe can shape our lives and perceptions.  There are many, many stories written about Native Americans.  Native Americans, for the most part, are only now starting to add their voices so that their stories can be heard, too.

I really enjoyed these essays.  King talks about oral storytelling vs written storytelling.  A lot of American cultures thrived on oral storytelling so that they could control the story.  But European culture focuses on written storytelling, and now they've come to dominate so many narratives that they don't really have a right to.  He talks about how most Native American and First Nation authors refuse to write history; they write contemporary literature.  This is something I've definitely noticed myself, and I was interested in his explanation - basically, that they don't want to touch the stereotype that exists in people's minds about Native Americans from long ago.  They want to assert their right to the present, and show that they have a place now.

A very thought-provoking and well-written read.  Also very short and full of reading suggestions, if you want them!

It's time to do some serious soul searching

After reading Azar Nafisi's The Republic of Imagination, I immediately wanted to read all of James Baldwin's work.  I started with his first major work, Go Tell it on the Mountain, the book Baldwin said is "the book I had to write if I was ever going to write anything else."  The semi-autobiographical novel focuses on John, a 14-year-old boy in Harlem growing up under the watchful eyes of his father, a very stern and religious evangelical preacher.  Over the course of one day at the church, we learn about John's life to date and gain insight into the lives of his hypocritical father, Gabriel, his mother, and his aunt.

Through all their stories, there's the common thread of the Great Migration, when many Blacks moved from the racial oppression of the Deep South to the promise (often left unfulfilled) of the North.  Each of them has something deep and complex to offer the reader, not just about the pursuit of the American Dream and the likelihood of finding happiness, but also about the very painful and beautiful relationships people can have with God.  There is a lot of fire and brimstone here, with nearly ever character promised eternity in heaven or hell based on one event or act from the past.  There is rage, frustration, and desperation in much greater amounts than you are likely to find in most books written in the 20th century.  In many ways, the fears and threats that came through here made me feel almost like I was in a time warp back to the Middle Ages, but the setting really is mid-20th century America.

This book was very different than I was expecting.  I thought the story would revolve much more closely around John coming of age in a very strict household, in a very restricted and segregated space.  Instead, the book is mainly about the relationships multiple characters have with John's father, Gabriel, a man who is chased by his own demons and seems determined to ensure that no one in his life forgets for a moment that hell is just one slippery slope away.  I also wasn't expecting nearly so much religion, and I am positive that there was a TON of Biblical imagery in this book that just went completely over my head.  For example, I'm sure John's father being named Gabriel means something, and that the extremely (and I mean seriously extreme) intense vision that John had at church before finding God probably had WAY more going on than I could catch.

I think I would have found this book a bit tedious except that the language is so amazingly powerful.  Baldwin brings so much passion to his craft that I feel like when he was writing the book, his pen must have left deep scores in the paper.  He's one of those authors who pours everything he feels into his art, and the result is absolutely stunning.  I really wish I knew the Bible better because I am sure I would have been even more moved and amazed by the story if I could get all of the allusions.

Because of the deep religious tones to the novel, Go Tell it on the Mountain also made me think more about religion and spirituality.  I am not personally a very religious person, and I don't spend a lot of time actively thinking about how God would see and interpret my actions.  I have a vague belief in the "If you're a good person, then you'll be fine" train of thought, but many of the characters in this book spend years trying to atone for one thing, or spend a lot of time thinking about how to make someone else pay, and worrying about hell.  It made the quest for religious enlightenment seem much more personal (and very, very lonely) in a way that highlighted to me just how differently people can follow the same religion.

I plan to read more of Baldwin's books and essays because he is a wonderfully passionate, eloquent author who I want to know better.  However, if you aren't ready for a deep, soul-searching book that focuses a lot on religion, then this may not be the book for you right now.  I recommend you keep Baldwin on your list, though, because his way with words will probably floor you.

Can Hindu epics be feminized? (My opinion - no)

After learning the depressing fact that I read less than 10% from my TBR piles in 2014, I decided to read at least 2 books a month from my TBR pile going forward.  The first book I chose was Chitra Banerjee Divakaruni's The Palace of Illusions.  I purchased this book when it came out because, whoa!  Feminist retelling of the Mahabharata, that is fantastic!  I avoided reading this book for several years because, well, I wasn't sure if a feminist retelling of the Mahabharata was likely to be successful.

And I think my qualms were justified.  Much as I hate to admit it, it is very, very difficult to write the Mahabharata from a woman's perspective, particularly from the point of view of Draupadi, who had basically zero agency in her whole life.  She was born from fire to usher in the Kali Yuga, she was destined from a prior life to have five husbands, and people think she started a war that was probably more likely caused by one of her husbands' gambling addictions.

The Mahabharata is one of Hinduism's greatest epics, describing the end of the golden age and the start of the chaotic age (which we are still living in today, if you couldn't tell).  It is a truly enthralling and entertaining story, but it's very heavy-handed with predestination and fate and KNOW YOUR ROLE OR THERE WILL BE CONSEQUENCES (this is, after all, the religion of the caste system).  Really, when you think about it, no one in the story has much control over the major events of their lives because the gods all decided what would happen eons ago.

This is not to say that the Mahabharata is not worth reading.  It is.  I love it.  There is SO MUCH going on there, so many side stories, so many giants of history - it's fascinating.  But it's a difficult story to use to shift perspective.  Perhaps if you are not familiar with the Mahabharata, this book would work better for you.  But as someone with at least a passing knowledge of the story, this novel really didn't work for me.

The main reason for this is Draupadi herself.  When she came of an age to marry, Draupadi's father held a huge contest for all the warriors in the land to come win her.  They had to accomplish a very difficult feat.  Arjuna, one of five Pandava brothers, won the contest and therefore won her hand.  Through a weird twist in circumstances, Draupadi actually had to marry all five of the Pandavas, but Arjuna was the one who won her originally and the one she had been planning to marry for her whole life.

In this retelling, Draupadi apparently spends her entire life in love with Karna, a sworn enemy of the Pandavas (yes, all five of them).  She sees a painting of him, someone describes his (admittedly very sad and pitiable) story to her, and then Arjuna just can't hold a candle to him.

I get wanting to give Draupadi SOME agency in her life because otherwise, there is not much there.  But doing this is like re-writing the story of Cinderella, having her get all dolled up for the ball, and then, in a weird twist of fate, making  Prince Charming fall in love with one of the ugly step-sisters before Cinderella even has a chance to win him over.  It totally changes the ENTIRE story, and then you have to change EVERY OTHER part of the story somehow to make the circle fit the square.  I just could not get over this fact.  And the way Draupadi spends literally decades not even seeing or interacting with Karna but apparently thinking about him all the time, even while she has five other husbands right there, is just ridiculous.  It's hard to take her seriously.

I also think that trying to fit the entire Mahabharata into one fairly slim book is a tall order.  Divakaruni brought some stories to life here, especially those related to Bhima and Krishna, but she didn't flesh out most of the other people at all.  Arjuna is one of the main characters in the Mahabharata and he barely says ten sentences in this whole book.  I can see why this is the case if Divakaruni wants Karna to come out as the hero, but Arjuna is a pretty complex and interesting character in his own right, much like Lancelot, and he's given short shrift here.

There are some aspects of this book that I really enjoyed.  Karna really was a pretty amazing person with a horrible string of bad luck, and it's nice to see him get some positive attention.  Divakaruni makes pretty clear here how unfair people were to him his whole life and how the whole caste system mentality really took a number on him.

Krishna is probably one of the most-loved gods in all Hindu mythology, and he was great in this book.  All vague pronouncements and comments about letting go and moving on and not getting too attached to worldly goods, shared in a sufficiently god-like fashion.  Draupadi's relationship with Krishna starts out as friendship, turns into something similar to a parent-child relationship, and finally ends with a really beautiful section about her personal relationship with God.

I have a feeling my reaction to this book is based a lot upon having read and heard so many of these stories growing up, and watching the amazing television spectacle every week with my whole family growing up.  It's hard to have one version of the story in your mind and then read this one.  I would suspect that if you are not familiar with the Mahabharata, you might enjoy this book more than I did.

Review-itas: The TBR Edition

Every once in a while, I will look at the many bookshelves in my house filled with books that have sat patiently unread for years (and seriously... many, many years) and be filled with a sense of panic.  What am I doing borrowing all these books from the library when I have at least a couple hundred on my shelves that I haven't read yet?  It makes me feel guilty and stressed out and pretty far behind.

This past weekend, I did a shelf clean-up and got rid of a few dozen books that I really don't have any interest in reading any more.  My tastes have changed, as you will see from the reviews below.  I frankly no longer really care that much about Medieval England's religious struggles. class struggles, and gender roles.  I really don't care that much about Medieval England at all.  As various periods in English history have prominent placement on my bookshelves, this was a difficult lesson to learn and I don't know if I have fully come to terms with it.  I think I am still a huge fan of 18th and 19th century British history.  I am absolutely fascinated by the class struggles and gender roles in that era and how technological advancement impacted social norms and roles.  At least, I think I am.  But it's been quite a while since I read a book set in that era, too, so I don't quite know.

Also, I read much more diversely now, and my bookshelves aren't very diverse.  This makes it even more difficult to pull books from my shelves to read because I want to make sure I maintain a good balance in the diversity of the authors I read.

Basically, I've come to realize that my bookshelves no longer fully reflect my reading tastes, and I've been having trouble coming to terms with that.  There are still a lot of books there that sound interesting to me!  Hopefully I find some sort of balance and read those in the coming years without panicking too much about how or when I choose to read them.  Until then, though, I will probably continue as I am now, with spurts of reading from my shelves coming all at once, brought on more by guilt and panic than by pure interest.  So it's no surprise, then, that I am fairly lukewarm about the results:

Based on the above, it's probably no surprise that I didn't finish The Illuminator, by Brenda Rickman Vantrease.  I read it because it has been on my shelf for years (at least 8) and it was available on audio download at the library and I wanted to feel like I was making progress on my TBR.  Not exactly the most promising of situations, so I apologize to the author.  No one wants to be up against those odds!

A widow is trying to care for her property and her family, even against the grain of society at the time.  And then a man comes into her life and sets her heart racing and her mind thinking and complications ensue.  And the man is an illuminator who transcribes the Bible (very prettily).  And he transcribes other (Treasonous!  Heretical!) things, too.  Also, there's a mystery around the murder of a corrupt man of the cloth.

Considering that I didn't really have much interest in reading this book, I actually found the story and the audiobook quite engaging.  The characters are real and likable, though they felt very likable to my tastes.  I get that there were dissenters throughout history that had progressive views, but I do think that you can make a character likable and powerful within the confines of their environment rather than always being the one person in a crowd who looks away from a hanging or thinks that servants are basically the same as rich people, except not as rich.  Anyway, later on in the book, one of the main characters expresses very anti-Semitic viewpoints, so that took us right back to the 1300s.  Or the 1940s, anyway.

I think I just didn't finish reading this book because another one came up in my library audio queue that I really did want to read.  And because, while I was interested in the story, I wasn't terribly engaged or excited by it.  I didn't really care what happened next.  Again, I think that is just because my reading tastes have changed.  I can see 23-year-old Aarti being very into this book, and 23-year-old Aarti was pretty great, too, just different.  So if you enjoy Medieval England and tales of religious dissent and the way people of different classes were treated in that period, I think you would really enjoy this one.

I distinctly remember reading a review of The Pericles Commission in a newspaper and noting it down because I was finished with the Marcus Didius Falco mystery series set in ancient Rome, and I thought that a mystery series set in ancient Greece would be a good fix.

The Pericles Commission works very well as a Falco substitute.  You have a private investigator who is middle-class and trying to make his way up in the world.  He meets a beautiful and savvy young woman, totally ineligible for him, and the two become partners in crime-fighting.  The guy has a pretty entertaining and fun family that we get to meet and spend time with (including a precocious younger brother named Socrates).  And the author seems to know his stuff - you learn a lot about ancient Athens, from the geography to the historical figures to ancient laws and customs and much more.  There's some humor, too, but if you are used to Lindsey Davis' quick-witted, self-deprecating, and completely lovable Marcus Didius Falco, it will be hard for Nicolaos to compare.

The Pericles Commission was just what I needed.  I had just finished Who We Be, which was an amazing book, but not exactly light reading.  And people were rioting in the streets all over America over a grand jury's lack of indictment over the events in Ferguson, MO.  Basically, I wanted a book that was fun and didn't require me to think very much.  And, damning as that might be to the author, this book really fit the bill, and I enjoyed it for that reason.  There are fun scenes here!  And while sometimes the dialogue (both internal and external) and the clue-dropping (or red herring-dropping) can be clunky, that is to be expected from a first novel.

I am not sure if I will continue on with this series, just because as I've gotten older, I've gotten progressively worse at keeping up with series.  And because I honestly don't think that ancient Greece has the same pull on me these days as, say, 1950s South Africa or 1960s America or ageless Henrietta or countless other settings.  But it was fun and it was light and I learned a bit more about Athens circa 450 BC.  And that was just what I wanted,

Review-itas: The Not-Quite-Hits Edition

I really want to read G. Willow Wilson's Miss Marvel comic book series.  While looking for it on the library website, I came across this other graphic novel by her, Cairo, and decided to give that one a try while I waited.

I read Wilson's Alif the Unseen about a year ago and had mixed feelings about it.  While I liked the lead female character and the genie, and the way Wilson weaved modern religion into her story, I thought the details of the plot were pretty difficult to follow.

My feelings about Cairo are pretty much the same, even down to the genie.  Wilson converted to Islam in college, and I really appreciate the way she uses her stories to educate readers about the religion.  She shares an Islam that is respectful, peaceful, and kind.  In a world that often portrays the religion in a very negative, extreme light, I can't speak highly enough of stories that show it as progressive and welcoming.

The plot, though, was still hard to follow.  Wilson seems unwilling to write "conventional" fantasy stories, which is fine, but she also seems to have trouble translating what is in her mind to paper, and so readers are left a little confused.  Or at least this reader is left confused.  Perhaps because religion is such a strong component of her stories, the aspirations are much more high-level than what I am used to and such nebulous descriptions of key components to the story make it hard to understand what's going on.

Still, I cannot wait to read Miss Marvel!

One book I started but did not finish was Liar, Temptress, Soldier, Spy, by Karen Abbott, a historical account of four women who participated in different ways in the American Civil War.

I had a vague recollection of the author's name, and when I realized that she was the author of Sin in the Second City, I had a feeling that I wouldn't love this book.  I really enjoy non-fiction, particularly history, but I feel like the events and the people are fascinating enough.  Authors don't need to add a lot of fluff to make the stories interesting.  Abbott, in my opinion, sensationalizes history a little too much.  It's very difficult to tell with her writing where the facts stop and her own hypotheses begin.  She attributes thoughts and feelings to historical figures without really providing any footnotes as to whether those are real or not.

The four women she includes in this book were spies on both sides of the war, and I'm sure they were all fascinating in their own right.  I loved that they were not limited by their sex but were willing to use other people's preconceived notions and beliefs about women to get ahead.  I would love to learn more about all four of these women, but I don't think Abbott's book is quite the right way for me to do so.  This book is much more a light beach read on the non-fiction scale, which has a lot of value in its own right, but just isn't right for me.

Also, seriously - the book is about women who did underground activities during the American Civil War.  I feel like she could have featured at least one woman of color here!  There are a couple of loyal slaves and servants mentioned who have parts to play, but I think Abbott could have put the spotlight on someone if she really wanted to.

Two sides of the same coin

Gene Luen Yang's companion graphic novels, Boxers and Saints, got a lot of attention a few months ago when they came out.  I finally got them in at the library and promptly read them in what I feel was probably the wrong order.  I read Saints first because it arrived first.  But after finishing both books and seeing the covers linked above, I understand why the series is called Boxers & Saints, rather than Saints & Boxers because there was a lot more alluding to Saints in Boxers than there was the other way around.

I feel like that paragraph was probably really difficult to understand if you haven't read the books.  So, moving on.

Boxers & Saints is a graphic novel set in China during the Boxer Rebellion.  The context of the story is that there are many Europeans who are flooding into China, bringing their foreign culture and ways and religions with them.  This wreaks havoc on the Chinese population, some of whom convert to Christianity and appreciate the foreign goods, and some of whom think the Europeans are ruining their way of life.  Yang's story tells the history from both points of view.  Little Bao suffers firsthand from the British invasion; his father is beaten and never quite recovers.  On the other hand, Four Girl never found a place for herself at home as she was considered bad luck.  So she escaped to the church and made a home for herself there.

I really like the idea behind these novels.  In history, there aren't many facts, just opinions that are voiced more loudly than others.  And even stark facts hide so much nuance and gray areas.  I love that Yang tackled this head-on by showing two people on opposite sides who were likable and easy to empathize with.  I also like that he showed the damage done by both sides.  There were a lot of things that led up to the Boxer Rebellion, but the outcome was a lot of pain and fear and loss on all sides.  Yang does not sugarcoat that reality at all.

I also think Yang did wonderfully with his use of color in the stories.  Four Girl's story was told in black and white, maybe with some sepia thrown in.  And Joan of Arc in bright yellow.  Little Bao's was a riot of color in contrast, with bold, vivid frames really bringing his story to life.  And the facial expressions that Yang can portray in his drawings are exquisite - you can definitely see exactly what each character is feeling!

I didn't love either of these books, though.  Overall, I enjoyed Boxers more than Saints, but I found both books a little lacking.  In Saints, for example, Four Girl didn't represent the Christian side well to me at all.  She basically just wanted cookies, so she started talking to a Christian.  And then her family kicked her out of the house, so she joined the church.  And then she didn't really believe in the Christian God or do anything that made herself stand out to me as someone worthy of a story.  She had visions of Joan of Arc, but I don't think there was much of a strong correlation between Joan and Four Girl.

In Boxers, Little Bao had a much stronger character.  His motivations in joining the Boxers were understandable, and I empathized with the difficulties he faced as a leader.  Overall, I found his story much better developed and interesting than Four Girl's.

I'm really glad I read these books because I have been interested in them since they came out.  What a fantastic and creative way to tell one story through different lenses.  I think we should all try to learn history this way - by reading accounts from different sides and learning what motivated and drove people to act as they did.  While I didn't love the stories themselves, I really applaud the effort and hope that Yang does more like this, or inspires other authors to do the same.  So many historical events that I would love to see put in context!  Such as:

• The American Civil War
• Partition in India/Pakistan
• Arab Spring

What events would you like to see brought to life in this manner?

"Do not be frightened by my beard. I am a lover of America."

Mohsin Hamid's The Reluctant Fundamentalist was a great companion novel to Amy Waldman's The Submission.  In The Submission, the architect Mohammed Khan starts the story American and proud, but increasingly begins to feel like America does not want him, and becomes alienated in his own country.  The narrator of The Reluctant Fundamentalist, Changez, grows up in Pakistan and then works to make himself as American as possible, getting a highly sought-after position at a financial firm, chasing after a blue-blood, beautiful woman named Erika, and generally living the good life.  Then 9/11 happens, and he begins to think that maybe America isn't all that great.

This short novel is narrated through Changez's monologue.  He spends the whole book chatting with an American - we can't be sure, but the American seems to be someone operating undercover from a few hints.  Changez tells the American his life story as they sit and enjoy tea, a meal, and then a walk back to the American's hotel.

There was a lot of heavy symbolism in this book.  Changez = Change, Erika = America, Fundamentalism = America's self-absorption, and many more that I'm sure I missed.  I think the symbolism was a bit too heavy-handed for my liking, though clearly Hamid wanted to make a point and to hit readers over the head with it.

What I appreciated about this book was the way it turned fundamentalism on its head and showed people just how differently America can be viewed by people who have a different perspective.  Much like Mohammed Khan in The Submission, Changez wanted to be American, but Americans did not want to see him as American.  When Changez goes back to Pakistan, he becomes an anti-American activist, speaking out against American policies.  Does this make him a terrorist?  Would we assume that Europeans who speak out against American policies are terrorists and enemies of the state?

In many ways, The Reluctant Fundamentalist felt like a rehash of the racial and political debate that many Middle Easterners and South Asians already feel very close to.  In that way, it didn't break a ton of new ground for me, but I am aware that my experience can be quite different than other people's, and I'm glad that there are more and more books being published now that attempt to shed life on other perspectives.  Whether Changez is ultimately a terrorist or not is a question readers are left wondering at the end of the book, but the power of the story is that we could understand Changez going either way.

This is a short novel that packs a lot of debate and points to ponder in its few pages.  I listened to it on audiobook and enjoyed the narration.  Definitely recommend this novel if you want to see a different perspective on the after-effects of 9/11 and how other people might view America.

Beautiful memorial or martyr's paradise?

I have had Amy Waldman's book, The Submission, on my radar since it first hit the shelves a few years ago.  But I somehow always veered away from actually reading it.  Maybe because 9/11 will always seem too close and raw for many of us.  I didn't lose anyone in the attacks, but I remember the event and its aftermath - and we all continue to feel its effect - vividly, and I just never wanted to re-immerse myself in that time again.

But the premise of The Submission is so fascinating, and finally, I buckled down and read it.  The book takes place a few years after the 9/11 attacks happened.  A group of people - artists, civic leaders, and one woman who was widowed by the attack - are choosing the winning submission in a contest to design the 9/11 memorial.  The entrants are anonymous, and when one design - a walled garden - wins, and the name is announced, everyone is shocked.  The winner is a man named Mohammed Khan.

What follows is a thoughtful, empathetic novel that encompasses so many points of view as a nation reels, reacts, stumbles, and tries to right itself in the wake of this news.

There is the garden itself, its personality morphing as the book continues.  First, it is a beautiful memorial garden, with reflecting canals and trees, and paths for contemplation.  Then, as Khan's name makes the news, it becomes a "martyr's paradise."  It fits the description of gardens described in the Qu'ran.  Does that mean that Khan designed it as a way to commemorate the terrorists?  And would anyone assume this was the case if Khan had not, in fact, been Khan, but had the name John Smith?

The idyllic life of rural Malaysia

Kampung Boy is a graphic novel I found while browsing the shelves of the library one day.  It caught my eye as it's about growing up in very small village in Malaysia and the author, Lat, is apparently one of Malaysia's best-loved comic artists.  This was enough to pull me in - I know nothing about life in Malaysia - and I settled in to a very happy hour reading about Lat's life.

The artwork in this book really matches the tone of the story.  It's light, episodic, and sweet, and the black and white images really lend themselves to bringing this to life.

Lat tells readers about everything from going fishing in the river to getting circumcised.  And his descriptions of his family members, while only telling us what is necessary for that particular story, make those characters come to life.  Helped, of course, by the illustrations.

There are hints of developments that reminded me of a very different book, 1493, as Lat described how much of the land around his kampung was being developed into rubber tree plantations.  There is also a large tin factory nearby, so life probably isn't as quiet as Lat's pictures make it out to be.

It's a very quick read, but no less enjoyable because of it, and I hope that I can find the sequel, in which Lat goes off to school in a bigger city.  I can see why this artist is so popular in his home country, and I'm glad that the book version of his comics is available for us in the West now, as he really is great fun.

What if religion is really just a computer program?

Alif the Unseen, by G. Willow Wilson, has a really great cover design.  I love the Arabic window shape and the lettering.  And the circuits!  It fits so perfectly with the story, I just love it.

Let me tell you about the story so that you can see just how perfect the cover is.  The back cover summary is good at sharing the plot without giving away key details, and it certainly inspired me to pick the book up, so here it is for you:

In an unnamed Middle Eastern security state, a young Arab-Indian hacker shields his clients—dissidents, outlaws, Islamists, and other watched groups—from surveillance and tries to stay out of trouble. He goes by Alif—the first letter of the Arabic alphabet, and a convenient handle to hide behind. The aristocratic woman Alif loves has jilted him for a prince chosen by her parents, and his computer has just been breached by the State’s electronic security force, putting his clients and his own neck on the line. Then it turns out his lover’s new fiancé is the head of State security, and his henchmen come after Alif, driving him underground. When Alif discovers The Thousand and One Days, the secret book of the jinn, which both he and the Hand suspect may unleash a new level of information technology, the stakes are raised and Alif must struggle for life or death, aided by forces seen and unseen.

There was a lot going on in this book.  Arab Spring, computer hackers, a Big Brother-type government that spies on its citizens (ahem), the idea of books as programs, religion, stories and so much more.  It was a bit overwhelming, but certainly ensured that I kept reading!  In many ways, Alif the Unseen reminded me of Ready Player One, though that could just be because they both involve tech nerds saving the world from large, scary conglomerates, and both of them have a lot of technical and background story that bogs them down.

One of the key insights of Alif the Unseen is that religious texts such as the Qu'ran adapt and change with the times even without editing one word.  They are a bit like computer programs, and if you can code the books into an advanced computer, then you can know everything about everyone in the world.  This was very difficult for me to wrap my head around, and all the metaphors that Wilson used to try to help me understand were lost on me.  I still enjoyed reading the book even without this knowledge, but I feel like I missed something important.

There were a few things about this book that I truly loved.  The first was how Wilson portrayed Dina, a very religious Muslim woman.  When we first meet Dina, we get the impression that she is dowdy and conservative and not a very fun or interesting or confident person.  Many of us would read through the lines and assume that the lack of fun and interest and confidence was due to her beng such a religious person.  But as the story goes on, Dina is just magnificent.  She's strong and loyal and kind and practical, and she is all of those things without ever losing her faith and belief in her God.  So often, Muslim women in books are portrayed as oppressed, as victims who allow other people to tell their stories for them.  I love how Dina had her own voice and how amazing that voice was.

I also really enjoyed the challenge that Wilson brought to her readers about what we believe and don't believe.  Many people believe in their religions passionately and whole-heartedly.  But while they believe some things, there are others that they ignore or believe to be metaphorical.  Such as burning bushes, fornicating gods, and jinns.  Why is this?  How can we believe that some miracles are possible but not others?  Why do we accept some things on faith but require so much proof for others?  We are willing to give so much of ourselves to our technology but we do not give that same trust to what we deem the guiding force in our lives.

I did not love this book completely.  Alif really bothered me, and parts of the story felt clunky and too long.  But I am so glad that I got to know Dina, who was such a wonderful character, and that I had the opportunity to reflect on how I read stories and internalize them and incorporate them into my life.

Musings: The Book of Everything

I was lucky enough to win a copy of The Book of Everything by Guus Kuijer from Iris recently.  I was so excited to win as I have had this book on my wish list for years.  So obviously, when I received a copy of the book, it rocketed to the top of my TBR list.

For a novel that claims to be about everything, the book is really quite short - only about 120 pages long.  I read it in one sitting on a Sunday evening.  It is about Thomas, a 9-year-old boy with a loving mother, a determined sister, a kind neighbor, a beautiful love interest, and an abusive father.  He also chats with Jesus Christ daily.  With the help of all these supportive people, Thomas learns to stand up for himself and his family.

There are a lot of wonderful things about this book.  Thomas is a kind and thoughtful boy who is well able to understand the complexities of situations that surround him.  He understands that his father is cruel because he is frightened, that he uses religion as a guard against his own repressed feelings.  He loves his mother and wants her to blossom into who she wants to be.  He realizes that his sister isn't silly, but is smart and determined.  And while he says that he longer believes in God, he enjoys his conversations with Jesus Christ, who agrees with Thomas that life can be horrible and that bad people are not always punished.

Iris mentioned in her review that one of the greatest strengths of this book is that it is populated by many strong, wonderful female characters.  This is so true - the women are fantastic, and all in different ways.  Thomas' mother is strong in that she puts up with horrible physical abuse so that she can be a mother to her two children.  His aunt is strong because she left her husband when he beat her.  His neighbor is strong because she sees Thomas suffering and makes it her business to help him and his family.  His crush is strong because instead of laughing at and teasing a young boy who's in love with her, she is kind and sweet to him in a way few teenagers ever are.

There's also a strong theme of religious symbolism in this book.  Thomas' father is a very strict man who believes that no book but the Bible is worth anyone's time, and he uses his faith as an excuse to cover his weaknesses.  In contrast, Thomas claims at the beginning to be an atheist, but he and his sister find ways of using the Bible to show their father just how wrong his views are.  I really liked this aspect of the story.  I wouldn't say that this is a religious story by any means, but it was wonderful to see so many nuances to religion presented in such a short book.

This was a lovely book that covers a lot of themes.  Easy to read in one sitting, but likely to keep you thinking for a long time after that.

Thanks so much to Iris for providing me with my copy of this book!

Musings: The Savage Fortress

I cannot properly describe to you just how excited I was to learn about the Ash Mistry series.  It's a fantasy series aimed at middle grade readers with a pudgy Indian-British boy at its center, and Hindu mythology as its core.

Amazing, right?!

I contacted the author, Sarwat Chadda, via his website and gushed over how awesome this premise was and how excited I was to read his book.  This conversation was the impetus behind the entire A More Diverse Universe blog tour idea.  So, the book had big shoes to fill.

And honestly, when I received The Savage Fortress in the mail and saw the very young-looking cover, I had some trepidations.  I wasn't sure if this was a book that would appeal to me at all.  I wasn't really into the idea of reading a book about a boy escaping from Godzilla.

(I looked very closely at the cover to see if the characters were white-washed.  I don't think they are, but the background is very red, so it could go either way.  Smart thinking, Scholastic.)

But a few chapters into the book, I was settled in.  Yes, it's definitely written for a younger audience.  The phrase "totally cool" pops up a lot.  An old man uses the phrase "Kick butt."  (I cannot imagine any old person in India ever saying that.)  But hey, the hero is thirteen years old and the old man is almost 5,000 years old.  I cut some slack.  Because this book is pretty impressive on many levels.

Ash(oka) Mistry is the star of this novel.  He's a chubby 13-year-old who won serious Aarti points by referencing Star Wars, Star Trek, Dr. Who and The Lord of the Rings throughout the course of this book.  He's a gamer and a geek, and he's the one that Chadda chose to be a reincarnation of Rama in our times.  LOVE.

Musings: A Suitable Boy

It is impossible to attempt a review of Vikram Seth's A Suitable Boy without commenting on its length.  This book is immense.  Almost 1500 pages of very small font.  I started it around Memorial Day and finished it on August 1st.  I don't know the last time I ever felt so accomplished for finishing a book.

I read George Eliot's Middlemarch earlier this year, and it's also impossible not to compare the two books.  Both are very long books that follow many characters but focus on a few key ones.  Both are set during a volatile time in history and are steeped in their settings.  Both discuss the impact of a new piece of legislature that would take power away from landowners and give it to the peasants.  Both are about the relationships that exist within families and between people.

They're very similar, but I enjoyed A Suitable Boy more.  Perhaps because it's set in a more modern world but written in a sprawling, unhurried manner.  Perhaps because it's set in India and I enjoyed the references to customs and clothing and food.  Perhaps because I vastly preferred Lata to Dorothea (sorry, Middlemarch fans, but Lata is great and not nearly as martyr-esque).

Musings: The Inn at Lake Devine

The Inn at Lake Devine is the sort of book that works best in summer, I think.  Look at that cover!  Wouldn't you love to sit on one of those lawn chairs along a placid lake, watching the sunset?  I certainly would.  Except that I wouldn't be allowed to, of course, because the Inn at Lake Devine is for Gentiles Only.

Natalie Marx is stunned when she hears the news.  Her family wants to vacation somewhere pretty for the summer of 1960-something, and they ask for lodging at Lake Devine, as people keep raving about Vermont.  But the reply is clear - yes, we have availability, but no, not for you.  As it's only about 15 years after the end of World War II, Natalie goes on a one-teenager mission to educate the proprietor of the inn, Mrs. Berry.  She sends anonymous news clippings, quotes Anne Frank, registers at the inn under false names of Gentiles who committed horrible, heinous acts.

And then one day, a distant friend named Robin invites her to go to the inn with her family, and Natalie accepts.  She wants to know what happens at such an exclusive resort.  Not much, she finds, and loses touch both with her friend and her experience at the inn.  But ten years later, Robin invites Natalie to her wedding at the Inn, and from that point on, Natalie's life is tied to that of the Inn at Lake Devine.

There are a few things I didn't know before I read this book:
1.  Jewish girls have (had?) a reputation for being "easy" as long as you pay them enough compliments.
2.  The Catskills are full of hotels and resorts that cater to Jewish travelers.
3.  The "American Plan" refers to lodging that provides you with three meals a day.

But now I am well-versed in the cultural norms/stereotypes expressed above!

The Inn at Lake Devine is a fun book.  It's very funny, quite sweet, and even if it became very odd at some points, like when there was a totally unexpected case of severe mushroom poisoning and hospital hallucinations, it was an enjoyable read.  Natalie is a great narrator to take us happily through the story, interspersing conversations with her own wry asides and introducing her to Jewish culture in a way that is gently mocking but clearly very affectionate.  Her family is very tight-knit and supportive, and the inquisitive nature and funny foibles of life at a Jewish resort are contrasted lightly against the experience that Natalie had at the Inn at Lake Devine.

The anti-Semitism angle is explored in detail, but not so much to overpower the story.  In some ways, I thought Lipman took the easy way out.  For example, is it likely that the husband and sons of an Anti-Semite would be so kind and generous and thoughtful and completely blind to race?  Doubtful.  But then, as another character points out, so many people are blind to race because they're used to being in the majority.  They never feel like a fish out of water because, well, they are so rarely out of the water.  Mrs. Berry is presented as an unkind, selfish, and completely unsympathetic character.  I think there could have been so much more nuance there if instead, her character was kind to her family and well-loved by the inn's visitors, but also completely set in her prejudices.  But then this would have been a different story and probably not nearly as funny.  So, instead, I salute Elinor Lipman for bringing attention to a serious issue by presenting us with a happily-ever-after comedy.  Well done!

Musings: Green Grass, Running Water

I first heard about Thomas King's Green Grass, Running Water on Eva's blog.  I put it on my wish list and looked for it every time I went to a bookstore or a library, but never found it.  And then I went to the BIG library and lo and behold it was there!  And so I have finally read it, and I'm so, so glad I did because this book is really, really good.

How can I describe it to you?  There are four old men:  The Lone Ranger, Robinson Crusoe, Hawkeye, and Ishmael.  There is also Coyote.  They have all escaped from a mental institution together.  For the 37th time.  One at a time, they tell Coyote a creation story.  Coyote interrupts, and as each man tells his story, we cut across to other people's lives in the modern day- "strong, sassy women and hard-luck, heardheaded men, all searching for the middle ground between Native American tradition and the modern world."  As the story progresses, all the characters move closer and closer towards the Sun Dance at their childhood home of Blossom, which is where (drum roll, please) the climax happens.

I really didn't do the book any justice above, and so you will just have to trust me on its worthiness and add it to your wish list or TBR or Purchase Immediately pile based on your innate trust of my taste in books.

Musings: In the Garden of Iden

I fell a little bit in love with Kage Baker when I read The Anvil of the World.  But Baker is much more known for her science fiction than for her fantasy (though I admit I am not sure why), and I knew I had to try her time travel series set around a mysterious organization called The Company.  I finally picked up In the Garden of Iden from my shelf recently and delved into the first of the series that revolves around the beautiful and rebellious time traveler Mendoza and her work as an Immortal for The Company.

In this first outing, we meet a very young Mendoza (first name unknown) as she is sold by her mother to a group of witches and then taken to prison during the Spanish Inquisition.  There, she meets a stranger who offers her a way out of life imprisonment and torture- she can become immortal like him.  Obviously, the young child agrees, and she is whisked away to a school in Australia where she undergoes all sorts of surgeries, learns extraordinary details about every era of history, and graduates with a specialty in botany (because she hates people).

On her first assignment, Mendoza is sent to a pleasure garden (The Garden of Iden) in Queen Mary's England.  There she falls in love with a strong-willed Protestant, and her life, as you might imagine, changes quite drastically.

[TSS] Musings: The Janissary Tree

The Janissary Tree is the first book in Jason Goodwin's mystery series that revolves around Yashim, a 19th century eunuch in the Ottoman Empire.  There's not much about that sentence that does not appeal to me.  Historical mystery?  Good!  Very unusual narrator?  Fabulous!  Foreign and relatively unknown setting?  Glorious!

Since finishing up Lindsay Davis's Falco series about a month ago, I've started to look for a new mystery series to sink my teeth into.  Yashim seemed like such a likely candidate, but I didn't enjoy this book to continue on with the series.

The Janissary Tree is about Yashim's search for four missing soldiers.  One by one, the soldiers' bodies turn up out of nowhere around Istanbul, and Yashim is frantic to understand why, and what the bodies mean.  All signs point to the Janissaries, the legendary fighters-turned-domestic-terrorists who were disbanded a decade before the novel begins.  At the same time, he is tasked with finding out who stole the sultan's mother's jewels, and whether this robbery is related to the murder of a harem girl in the royal palace.

Musings: The Anvil of the World

I remember vividly exactly how I first heard about Kage Baker.  Back in college, I was a member of a lot of Yahoo! Groups on reading, and made many great friends on those groups and on different forums around the net.  (That's how I met both Kailana and Marg, actually!)  One of the Yahoo! groups I joined was called Bookaholics Anonymous or something like that, and one of the moderators was named Nichole.  Nichole and I became pretty close and exchanged very long, detailed emails with each other because our reading styles were so similar.  I introduced her to George R. R. Martin, she introduced me to my beloved Marcus Didius Falco.

She also told me that I should read Kage Baker's time travel sci fi series about The Company.  I have the first Company book on my shelf, but I also had one of Baker's few fantasy novels, The Anvil of the World, here in Ann Arbor with me.  It's been waiting very patiently for me to pick it up since September 2006, and I finally did.  And now I cannot WAIT to read all the rest of Kage Baker's work.  If it's anything as good as this book, I have a wonderful backlist in store for me.  It's just sad to know that Baker will never write another novel.

I loved The Anvil of the World for many reasons, but not because it was perfect.  It's about Smith, a man without a home or much of a family.  He takes on a job as a caravan leader, charged with shipping people and property safely across a long distance.  But his caravan is attacked many times, his goods are damaged, and the passengers, all of whom have secrets, don't get along very well.  Smith makes it across, though, and then opens up a hotel with some of the friends he made on the trip over.  And then he goes on a quest with a smaller group of those friends, one that forces him to face his past and the role he is meant to play in the world.

[TSS] Musings: Palestine

Joe Sacco's Palestine is a book I've wanted to read for a very long time.  Sacco is a journalist, and he reports on areas that are in the midst of dramatic conflict.  But his reporting style is of the graphic novel variety.  I was so thrilled to see his Palestine in the library, not only because I wanted to experience his very distinctive brand of journalism, but also because I have been very interested in reading more about the Israel-Palestine conflict since enjoying Mornings in Jenin some time ago.

This book is a collection of nine separate articles that Sacco published about Palestine during 1991 and 1992.  Sacco went to Israel late in the year, from Egypt, and spent the vast majority of his time in the territories that are currently occupied by the Palestinians, with increasing encroachment by the Israelis.  Interestingly, Sacco himself is very visible through this whole story.  He doesn't believe in the idea of being an objective bystander.  Instead, he lives with the people he interviews, listens to their stories, drinks their tea (lots of tea), eats food they provide but can barely afford, and gives his own opinion on a myriad of topics.  Sacco comes across as pretty arrogant and sometimes insensitive, but he has a clear passion for what he is reporting, and that comes through loud and clear.  This is in no way an objective account; Sacco makes only a perfunctory attempt to get the Israeli point of view.  But this, too, is done on purpose.  As Westerners, we nearly always only get the Israeli side, and he wanted us to see the effects of this long-term conflict on the Palestinians.  And what he presents us with is a gruelling, intensely personal and amazingly artistic account of his two months in Palestine, and the very humanizing stories of the difficulties, humiliations and terrors that the people who live there go through daily.