Blogging Break

Sorry about the lack of updates guys! I spent many, many hours on blogging stuff last week, and between that and my fibro acting up which has resulted in me sleeping obscene amounts of hours, my brain just hasn’t been able to blog. I believe that’s what we call a burn-out, hehe. I’ll try to get back into the rhythm as soon as I can.

So yeah, I’m fine, and I hope that my fibro flare-up is on the down side again, but I can’t make any promises! As a favour, could everyone please stop posting for the next few days, so that my Google Reader doesn’t overflow?

Travel by Books: 2009 Wrap-Up

Total Countries I visited via books in 2009: 92

It’s been a long time coming, but here’s the summary of my global reading from last year! I visited all of the countries you see on the map as blue, either via a book set there, an author from there, or a chapter of a book set there. For each country, I’ve listed the relevant book(s) and indicated if it was the author, the setting, or a selection (which means at least one chapter) that brought me to that country. I’ve also made collages! On each collage, you’ll see a map, and then the covers of the books set in/by a national of a country and author pictures for those of that nationality at least somewhere near the country itself. And you can click on them to make them much larger. Enjoy! (I haven’t linked to my reviews for all of the books, but I did review most of them. You can easily look them up via my review directories or by just using the search box; you’ll find them both in the right sidebar on my blog). Oh, and I haven’t included the US and the UK, since I don’t consider either international (after all, I lived in England for seven years!), and there’d be too many books anyway.

To jump to a particular geographic region, use these internal links:
Asia | Europe | Middle East & Maghreb | North America & Caribbean | Oceania | South America | Sub-Saharan Africa

Asia

Afghanistan
Shadow of the Silk Road by Colin Thurber (selections)

Bangladesh
A Golden Age by Tahmima Anam (author & setting)
Creating a World Without Poverty by Muhammad Yunus (author)

Burma
Finding George Orwell in Burma by Emma Larkin (setting)
Burmese Days by George Orwell (setting)
From the Land of Green Ghosts by Pascal Khoo Thwe (author & setting)

China
Night of Many Dreams by Gail Tsukiyama (setting)
The Girl Who Played Go by Shan Sa (author & setting)
The Last Days of Old Beijing by Michael Meyer (setting)
Serve the People by Jen Lin-Liu (setting)
Death of a Red Heroine by Qiu Xiaolong (author & setting)
The Noodle Maker by Ma Jian (author & setting)
Raise the Red Lantern by Su Tong (author & setting)
China: Fragile Superpower by Susan Shirk (setting)
Shadow of the Silk Road by Colin Thurber (selections)

India
Mistress of Spices by Chitra Divakaruni (author)
The Tiger Ladies of Kashmir by Sudha Koul (author & setting)
Adventure Divas by Holly Morris (selections)
Spell of the Tiger by Sy Montgomery (setting)
Haunting Bombay by Shilpa Agarwal (author & setting)
A Suitable Boy by Vikram Seth (author & setting)

Indonesia
This Earth of Mankind by Pramoedya Ananta Toer (author & setting)
Shooting the Boh by Tracy Johnston (setting)
Adventure Divas by Holly Morris (selections)
Tales of a Female Nomad by Rita Golden Gelman (selections)

Japan
Goodbye by Yoshihiro Tatsumi (author & setting)
The Dream Hunters by Neil Gaiman and Yoshitaka Amano (author & setting)
Emma Vol. One by Kaoru Mori (author)
Kitchen by Banana Yoshimoto (author & setting)
Hardboiled and Hard Luck by Banana Yoshimoto (author & setting)
A Year in Japan by Kate Williamson (setting)
A Pale View of Hills by Kazuo Ishiguro (author & setting)
The Fox Woman by Kij Johnson (setting)
The Tale of Murasaki by Liza Dalby (setting)
Snow Country by Yasunari Kawabata (author & setting)
Tales of Moonlight and Rain by Akinari Ueda (author & setting)

Kazakhstan
Shadow of the Silk Road by Colin Thurber (selections)

Kyrgyz Republic
Shadow of the Silk Road by Colin Thurber (selections)

Malaysia
Kampung Boy by Lat (author & setting)

Mongolia
The Blue Sky by Galsan Tschinag (author & setting)

Singapore
The Devil’s Picnic by Taras Grescoe (selections)

South Korea
Bad Samaritans by Ha-Joon Chang (author)

Tibet
Tibet, Tibet by Patrick French (setting)

Uzbekistan
Shadow of the Silk Road by Colin Thurber (selections)

Vietnam
Paradise of the Blind by Duong Thu Huong (author & setting)

Europe

Azerbaijan
Ali and Nino by Kurban Said (author & setting)

Austria
The Story of Art by E.H. Gombrich(author)

Belguim
Chocolate by Mort Rosenblum (selections)

France
The Elegance of the Hedgehog by Muriel Barbery (author & setting)
The Vintner’s Luck by Elizabeth Knox (setting)
Trap for Cinderella by Sebastien Japrisot (author & setting)
The Count of Monte Cristo by Alexandre Dumas (author & setting)
A Well-Timed Enchantment by Vivian Vande Velde (setting)
Ysabel by Guy Gavriel Kay (setting)
The Virgin Blue by Tracy Chevalier (setting)
The Red Necklace by Sally Gardner (setting)
A Guide to Elegance by Genevieve A Dariaux (author)
French Milk by Lucy Knisley (setting)
Claudine at School by Colette (author & setting)
Disquiet by Julia Leigh (setting)
Chocolate by Mort Rosenblum (selections)

Germany
Betsy and the Great World by Maud Hart Lovelace (setting)

Greece
Loot by Sharon Waxman (selections)
Route 66 A.D. by Tony Perrottet (selections)

Ireland
The Bell by Iris Murdoch (author)
Belfast Diary: War as a Way of Life by John Conroy (setting)
Confessions of a Pagan Nun by Kate Horsley (setting)
The Likeness by Tana French (author & setting)
Daughter of the Forest by Juliet Marillier (setting)

Italy
Silk by Alessandro Baricco (author)
The Comfort of Strangers by Ian McEwan (setting)
Death and Judgement by Donna Leon (setting)
A Venetian Affair by Andrea Di Robilant (author & setting)
Brunelleschi’s Domeby Ross King (setting)
I’m Not Scared by Niccolo Ammaniti (author & setting)
Loot by Sharon Waxman (selections)
Route 66 A.D. by Tony Perrottet (selections)

Norway
The Solitaire Mystery by Jostein Gaarder (author)
Kristin Lavransdatter by Sigrid Undset (author & setting)
The Devil’s Picnic by Taras Grescoe (selections)

Poland
The Shadow of the Sun by Ryszard Kapuscinski (author)

Portugal
The Maias by Eca de Queiros (author & setting)

Romania
Wildwood Dancing by Juliet Marillier (setting)

Russia
Night Watch by Sergei Lukyanenko (author & setting)
Natasha’s Dance by Orlando Figes (setting)

Spain
The Devil’s Picnic by Taras Grescoe (selections)

Sweden
Ain’t Myth Behaving by Katie Macalister (setting)

Switzerland
The Consolations of Philosophy by Alain de Botton (author)
The Art of Travel by Alain de Botton (author)
Status Anxiety by Alain de Botton (author)
The Devil’s Picnic by Taras Grescoe (selections)
Chocolate by Mort Rosenblum (selections)

Middle East & Maghreb

Egypt
Palace of Desire by Naguib Mahfouz (author & setting)
The Egyptologist by Arthur Phillips (setting)
Dreamers of the Day by Mary Doria Russell (setting)
The Yacoubian Building by Alaa Al Aswany (author & setting)
Route 66 A.D. by Tony Perrottet (selections)
The Arabian Nights trans. by Husain Haddawy (selections)
Dreams and Shadows by Robin Wright (selections)
Loot by Sharon Waxman (selections)

Iran
Embroideries by Marjane Satrapi (author & setting)
Persepolis: the Story of a Childhood by Marjane Satrapi (author & setting)
The Arabian Nights trans. by Husain Haddawy (selections)
Dreams and Shadows by Robin Wright (selections)
Shadow of the Silk Road by Colin Thubron (selections)

Iraq (aka Sumer)
Gilgamesh trans. by Stephen Mitchell (author & setting)
The Arabian Nights trans. by Husain Haddawy (selections)
Dreams and Shadows by Robin Wright (selections)
Shadow of the Silk Road by Colin Thubron (selections)

Israel
Exit Wounds by Rutu Modan (author & setting)

Lebanon
Dreams and Shadows by Robin Wright (selections)

Morocco
Dreams and Shadows by Robin Wright (selections)

Palestine
The Gate of the Sun by Elias Khoury (author & setting)
Dreams and Shadows by Robin Wright (selections)

Saudi Arabia
Saudi Arabia Exposed by John Bradley (setting)
Finding Nouf by Zoe Ferraris (setting)

Syria
Dreams and Shadows by Robin Wright (selections)
Shadow of the Silk Road by Colin Thubron (selections)

Turkey
My Name is Red by Orhan Pamuk (author & setting)
Shadow of the Silk Road by Colin Thubron (selections)
Loot by Sharon Waxman (selections)

North America & Caribbean

Antigua
Annie John by Jamaica Kincaid (author & setting)

Canada (I’ve read quite a few Canadian authors this year, so rather than include them all, I’ve included one for each province I’ve read.)
Green Grass, Running Water by Thomas King (Alberta) (author & setting)
Someone Knows My Name by Lawrence Hill (Nova Scotia) (author & setting)
Still Life by Louise Penny (Quebec) (author & setting)
Obasan by Joy Kogawa (British Colombia) (author & setting)
Alias Grace by Margaret Atwood (Ontario) (author & setting)
The Day the World Came to Town by Jim Defede (Newfoundland) (author & setting)
“The Rez Sisters” by Tomson Highway (Manitoba) (author & setting)

Cuba
Adventure Divas by Holly Morris (selections)
Ruins by Achy Obejas</a. (author & setting)

Dominican Republic
Once Upon a Quinceanera by Julia Alvarez (author)
The Farming of the Bones by Edwidge Danticat (setting)

Greenland
An African in Greenland by Tete-Michel Kpomassie</a. (setting)

Haiti
The Farming of the Bones by Edwidge Danticat (author)
Mountains Beyond Mountains by Tracy Kidder (selections)

Jamaica
The Book of Night Women by Marlon James (author & setting)
The Pirate’s Daughter by Margaret Cezair-Thompson (author & setting)
The New Moons Arms by Nalo Hopkinson (author & setting)
The Girl with the Golden Shoes by Colin Channer (author & setting)

Mexico
Like Water for Chocolate by Laura Esquivel (author & setting)
La Perdida by Jessica Abel (setting)
Across the Wire by Luis Alberto Urrea (author & setting)
Oaxaca Journal by Oliver Sacks (setting)
Hummingbird’s Daughter by Luis Alberto Urrea (author & setting)
Aura by Carlos Fuentes (author & setting)

Trinidad
Cereus Blooms at Night by Shani Mootoo (author & setting)

Oceania

Click on the map to enlarge! I’ve included pictures of all the authors from Oceania countries I read, as well as books set in/about the region. When a cover is on a top of an author picture, that means its their book. For the text version, if I list the author’s name first, that means they’re a native of the country. If the book’s title is in bold, that means it’s set in that country. Make sense? Oh, and if (selection) follows the book, that means that only a chapter or so was set in/about the country.

Australia
Disquiet by Julia Leigh (author)
The Dreaming, Vol. One by Queenie Chan (author & setting)
The White Earth by Andrew McGahan (author & setting)
Tender Morsels by Margo Lanagan (author)
Tales From Outer Suburbia by Shaun Tan (author)
The Seance by John Harwood (author)
The Thornbirds by Colleen McCullough (author & setting)
Blue Latitudes by Tony Horwitz (selection)

New Zealand
The Vintner’s Luck by Elizabeth Knox (author)
Ruined by Paula Morris (author)
Here At the End of the World We Learn to Dance by Lloyd Jones (author & setting)
Whale Rider by Witi Ihimaera (author & setting)
Wildwood Dancing by Juliet Marillier (author)
Daughter of the Forest by Juliet Marillier (author)
Adventure Divas by Holly Morris (selections)

Papua New Guinea
Javatrekker by Dean Cycon (selection)

Western Samoa
Where We Once Belonged by Sia Figiel (author & setting)

Savage Island (Niue)
Blue Latitudes by Tony Horwitz (selection)

Tahiti (French Polynesia)
Blue Latitudes by Tony Horwitz (selection)

Tonga
Blue Latitudes by Tony Horwitz (selection)

South America

Argentina
A Secret for Julia by Patricia Sagastizabal (author)
A Reading Diary by Alberto Manguel (author)
The Library at Night by Alberto Manguel (author)
Here At the End of the World We Learn to Dance by Lloyd Jones (setting)

Brazil
Little Star of Bela Lua by Luana Monteiro (author & setting)
Gabriela, Clove, and Cinnamon by Jorge Amado (author & setting)

Chile
My Invented Country by Isabel Allende (author & setting)
Portrait in Sepia by Isabel Allende (author)

Colombia
Chronicle of a Death Foretold by Gabriel Garcia Marquez (author & setting)

Ecuador
The Devil’s Picnic by Taras Grescoe (selections)

El Salvador
Javatrekker by Dean Cycon (selection)

Guatemala
Javatrekker by Dean Cycon (selection)

Nicaragua
Tales of a Female Nomad by Rita Golden Gelman (selections)
Javatrekker by Dean Cycon (selection)

Peru
The Bad Girl by Mario Vargas Llosa (author & setting)
The Last Days of the Incas by Kim MacQuarrie (setting)

Venezuela
The Lady, the Chef, and the Courtesan by Marisol (author & setting)

Sub-Saharan Africa

Angola
The Book of Chameleons by Jose Eduardo Agualusa (author & setting)

Cameroon
Your Madness Not Mine by Makuchi (author & setting)
The Shadow of the Sun by Ryszard Kapuscinski (selections)

Cote d’Ivoire
Aya by Marguerite Abouet and Clement Oubrerie (author & setting)

DPRC
In the Footsteps of Mr. Kurtz by Michela Wrong (setting)

Eritrea
The Shadow of the Sun by Ryszard Kapuscinski (selections)

Ethiopia
Notes From the Hyena’s Belly by Nega Mezlekia (author & setting)
The Shadow of the Sun by Ryszard Kapuscinski (selections)
Javatrekker by Dean Cycon (selection)

Ghana
Wife of the Gods by Kwei Quartey (author & setting)
The Shadow of the Sun by Ryszard Kapuscinski (selections)

Kenya
The Book of Secrets by M G Vassanji (author & setting)
Javatrekker by Dean Cycon (selection)

Liberia
The Shadow of the Sun by Ryszard Kapuscinski (selections)

Mali
Someone Knows My Name by Lawrence Hill (selections)
The Shadow of the Sun by Ryszard Kapuscinski (selections)

Mauritania
The Shadow of the Sun by Ryszard Kapuscinski (selections)

Mozambique
Sleepwalking Land by Mia Couto (author & setting)

Nigeria
The Thing Around Your Neck by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie (author)
Song for Night by Chris Abani (author & setting)
The Shadow of the Sun by Ryszard Kapuscinski (selections)

Rwanda
The Shadow of the Sun by Ryszard Kapuscinski (selections)

Sierra Leone
A Long Way Gone by Ishmael Beah (author & setting)
Someone Knows My Name by Lawrence Hill (selections)

Somalia
Born in the Big Rains by Fadumo Korn (author & setting)
The Shadow of the Sun by Ryszard Kapuscinski (selections)

South Africa
Country of My Skull by Antjie Krog (author & setting)
A Time of Angels by Patricia Schonstein (author & setting)
A Beautiful Place to Die by Malla Nunn (author & setting)

Sudan
The Shadow of the Sun by Ryszard Kapuscinski (selections)

Tanzania
The Shadow of the Sun by Ryszard Kapuscinski (selections)

Togo
An African in Greenland by Tete-Michel Kpomassie (author)

Uganda
First Comes Love, Then Comes Malaria by Eve Brown-Waite
The Shadow of the Sun by Ryszard Kapuscinski (selections)

Zimbabwe
Zenzele by J. Nozipo Maraire (author & setting)

Oliver Twist & Narrative of the Life of Frederick Douglass (thoughts)

Why review one classic when you can review two? Both of these are books I’ve been meaning to get to for a long time, and have read this month thanks to audiobooks and library’s ebranch. (Seriously…what’s better than free books from the library? Free books from the library that you can download instantly at 3 in the morning! lol) I’ve decided that for a change of pace, I’ll be talking about this books via letters to the authors. Since I read Oliver Twist first, we’ll start there!

Dear Mr. Dickens,
I know that you were wildly popular in your day. And that you’re still quite popular as far as classic authors are concerned. So I felt guilty for considering you one of my least favourite writers. Especially when I thought about the books by you I’ve actually read. Sure, I’ve made three unsuccessful attempts to get through The Pickwick Papers. But that was your first novel, and sometimes authors need time to mature. And yes, I do loathe Great Expectations, but it’s not really your fault that I moved between 9th and 10th grade and had to read it twice for two different high school teachers. Nor is it your fault that I was compared to Estella so frequently. After all, I loved A Tale of Two Cities when I read it at 13! And I read Hard Times with my mom the same year, and I remember it being rather amusing. So, I decided to give you another shot (encouraged by the Our Mutual Read Challenge) and after being warned off Nicholas Nickleby, settled for Oliver Twist.

But oh Mr. Dickens. Why must you write such one dimensional characters who are so obviously tools for you to get your social concerns across?! Why must you write ridiculously convoluted plots that rely on so many unbelievable coincidences no matter how hard I try to enjoy them, I find myself rolling my eyes instead?! Why did someone decide to pay you by the word you publish yourself and thus had no editor (thanks to CB for correcting me), which leads to ridiculously long-winded passages devoid of any descriptive beauty?! As you might be able to surmise, Mr. Dickens, I was not a fan of Oliver Twist. I think it’s very good that you wanted to call attention to the horrible lives of the poor, especially orphans, to your Victorian readers. But when Mr. Collins wanted to draw attention to the unfair legitimacy laws, he wrote No Name, a book with an awesome plot and rich characters. When Mrs. Gaskell wanted to draw attention to the plight of unwed mothers, she wrote Ruth, which wasn’t perfect, but did at least have an interesting plot and characters that were mildly fleshed out, including a couple that felt quite genuine. My point is: social conscience is no excuse for bad writing.

Now, I’m partly prejudiced because your descriptions of those poor orphans made me really upset. I resent authors who manipulate my emotions so shamelessly, and I’m extra-sensitive to any account of neglect/evil towards children, so my frequent bouts of tears probably worsened the novel for me. And I will admit you have a flare for the comic: a few scenes, especially those between Mr. Bumble and Mrs. Corney, had me laughing hysterically. Oh, and Nancy is a wonderful character! And the scene with Bill Sykes, after he’s committed a certain dastardly deed, while not feeling at all realistic, had a majestic power to it that made me love it.

So, due to these few diamonds in the heap of coal that was Oliver Twist as a whole, I have decided to give you more chance. I intend to reread A Tale of Two Cities, and if I love it as much as I did when I was younger, I will be prepared to read one other novel by you. (If my readers have any suggestions, I would be grateful.) But at this point, I must regretfully say that you remain my least favourite Victorian novelist, and I can not understand how you become so much more famous than Mr. Collins or Mr. Trollope.

Yours, respectfully,
Eva

Dear Mr. Douglass,
I ought to have read your autobiography, Narrative of the Life of Frederick Douglass years ago. I will admit, I shied away from it because I felt the material would be too sad. And I thought it might be dated. And I worried it would get tedious; I was under the impression this was a long book. But now that I’ve read your work, I must apologise. I was mistaken on all accounts.

While a book about the life of an American slave must of necessity include sad things, you never descend into the maudlin, and I never felt like my emotions were being unfairly manipulated. You presented your story in a tone of such matter-of-factness, that it was left to me to see just how awful it was. But I love that you didn’t pull any punches. You often expressed your outrage and anger, and you never held back from driving home a point about injustice. I was also surprised to discover that you talk about ’sensitive’ subjects, such as slave holding men raping their slave women, with the same frankness and detail you give to other matters. While your account is never lurid, I applaud you for addressing topics that must have had the potential to outrage your audience. I understand that you wrote this book to aid the abolition movement, but it never feels like propaganda. I understand why you were such a powerful motivator in the abolitionist movement, and I respect you for the integrity, honesty, and spirit of justice that shines through in this work. I also loved your discussion of women; not once did I get the feeling that you regarded women as lesser than men. You did not portray the white slave-owning women as gentler or less responsible for their horrific crimes than the men, you did not diminish the experience of slave women at all.

Moreover, you know how to tell a good story. Your narrative is much shorter than I expected it to be (around 100 pages in hard copy), and it never slows down for a moment. You really conjured up each scene you describe, and I felt like I was there with you experiencing things. Moreover, when you turn your hand to allegory in an appendix, and vividly expose the hypocrisy of Christians who are also slave-holders, you showed that you excel in more than one style of writing.

I fully intend to read My Bondage and My Freedom this year, and you led such an interesting life that I plan to seek out a biography of you as well. I am so happy to have discovered such a marvelous new-to-me classic author (and must thank the Black Classics Challenge for the extra nudge), and I wish that I could have known you. For if you lived your life with the same spirit that you wrote about it, you were a true gentleman.

Yours, sincerely,
Eva

Back to my readers: have you read either of these authors? What do you think of them?

Library Loot: January 20-26, 2010

Library Loot is a weekly event co-hosted by myself and Marg that encourages bloggers to share the books they’ve checked out from the library. If you’d like to participate, just write up your post-feel free to steal the button-and link it using the Mr. Linky any time during the week. And of course check out what other participants are getting from their libraries!

Want to share your loot?

No vlog today, because my library closed itself unexpectedly yesterday, so I couldn’t pick up my holds, so I couldn’t record a video. I’ll be getting my holds this afternoon though, and since there’s no vlog, I’ll be doing the rambly-text version of listing my books!

Also, I decided to give my blog a bit of a makeover! I can’t mess with the code at all, since the free version of WordPress doesn’t allow that, but I did pick a theme with a customisable header and colours (although I can’t change the text colour). I don’t think I’ve changed my blog format for two years, so I’m excited to see a new, more Eva-ish look (coloured tights! Pride and Prejudice!). I’ve also decided to decorate my sidebar with my favourite authors and links to some marvelous short stories available for free online (the latter idea I totally ‘borrowed’ from Nymeth, although mine are more ’short stories I’ve read and loved that I could find online’ than ’some of my favourites ever’). Feel free to offer feedback; I’m still playing with it a bit, so I’m definitely open to suggestions!

Right…on to my loot.

I am *so* excited that The Housekeeper and the Professor by Yoko Ogawa is finally available. I put a hold request in for it towards the end of last month, for the upcoming Japanese Literature Book Club discussion (on the 25th), but then I got really nervous that it wouldn’t arrive in time. So I’ve been stalking my account at the library, and it arrived yesterday! Of course, then my library closed, thus thwarting me. But it’s open again today, so I’ll be starting this one very soon! And I’ve learned my lesson about planning ahead…I’ve already put in a request for A Wild Sheep Chase which is a semi-official read we’ll be discussing on March 10th.

Three of my other holds were classics by strong women! I picked up Between the Acts by Virginia Woolf, because I decided I wanted to read it before reading the nonfiction book The Things That Matter, which is looking at seven classics and the life lessons they contain. Between the Acts is the only one of the seven I haven’t read, so I figured I might at well go for it! Also, I’m skipping the upcoming Woolf in Winter selection, To the Lighthouse (since I read it last year), so this way I’ll still be reading a Woolf every fortnight! I have absolutely no idea what the book’s about, which is rare for me and a classic, and I think that will make my experience even better. Meanwhile, I snagged the eighteenth century travelogue The Journal of Madam Knight by Sarah Kemble Knight for the Reading the Decades Challenge. I’m really excited about my 1700s focus, and my first book (The Sorrows of Young Werther) took me by surprise with how readable it was! This one is very slim, which is neat, but I think for my next selection, I’ll be plumping for a nice big novel. Teresa of Avila: the Book of My Life is another classic nonfiction! I already had it on my list for the Really Old Classics Challenge, but I’m specifically reading it now because Jason and I ended up abandoning Ahab’s Wife but still wanted to read a book together. I was worried this would be all dense and mystical, but I’m 75 pages in, and so far it’s been nothing but a delight! I’m reading a modern translation by Mirabai Starr, which has a rather casual register. Apparently,the original Spanish was in a similar register, so the translation is faithful. St. Teresa herself is simply charming, and she was quite the reader!

That last of my holds to arrive was Matilda by Roald Dahl. This is for the Flashback Challenge, since I loved it as a child! I was actually hoping to get it in Russian, since I could have sworn I saw that version in my library’s catalogue, but sadly no. I can read Charlie and the Chocolate Factory or Witches in Russian if I want…but I’ve been really craving Matilda. I haven’t read any of Dahl’s books since I was about 10, so I’m really curious as to what I’ll think of him now. After this reread, I’d love to explore some of his stuff written for older audiences, so if you have a favourite Dahl book, suggest away!

So, any sane person would think, “Great, six books this week from the library.” But no. Here’s what I thought when I went last Thursday and saw only two holds were in (the St. Teresa and the Madam Knight): “Wow. This is so sad. I can’t possibly leave the library with just two books. Why haven’t more holds arrived?! Obviously, I’m not requesting enough books. Let’s go browse the new books.” And so I found myself staring at all of the new nonfiction arrivals at the library. And there were several that seemed like perfect Women Unbound choices! So I brought home six ‘extras’. hehe

I was attracted to Babysitter: an American History by Miriam Forman-Brunell, because I was a babysitter in my youth, and then after college I was a nanny for a year. So the whole topic intrigues me! In Her Own Sweet Time by Rachel Lehmann-Haupt is about modern American women’s motherhood choices…it’s part memoir, part cultural/scientific stuff (I’ve already read it). I have this strange attraction to books about the issue of becoming a single mother by choice, even though I’m not a mother and not even positive that I want children. I think it’s because I’m suspicious of marriage, lol. At first, I picked up Pink Brain, Blue Brain by Lise Eliot, because I was sure it was going to anger me. (Books talking about the bioligical, ‘programmed,’ ‘inherent’ differences between the genders usually do.) But then I discovered that Eliot is a neuroscientist who wrote this book to *dispel* all of those ideas. The book looks at how even small differences in the way society treats young brains affects how they grow, which in turn contributes to gender differences. I’ve got high hopes for this one. It’s funny…the Women Unbound Challenge has made me much more open to memoirs than I used to be. I don’t think I would have even read the back of Gringa: a Contradictory Girlhood by Melissa Hart last year! Anyway, it’s a memoir about Hart’s childhood torn between her mother, who ends her marriage for a woman and begins life in a Hispanic neighbourhood, and her father, who is your standard white middle class guy, and who is eventually awarded primary custody because the judge considers lesbian relationships “unnatural.” Yeah. I read the first few pages, and Hart’s style is really good!

The other two books I chose are more international. Dragon Fighter: One Woman’s Epic Struggle for Peace with China by Rebiya Kadeer caught my eye because I’ve been participating in the China Challenge, and it’s a book about one of China’s ethnic minorities (the Uyghars). I’ve read a bit about them and their difficulties in the past, but not a whole book. And when it’s about a strong woman leader, I couldn’t resist. A few years ago, I read quite a few Iraq-centered books, both political and cultural centered ones. But then last year, I didn’t read any! So I had to pull Sisters in War by Christina Asquith off the shelf. Asquith is an American/British journalist, and she spent 18 months in Baghdad. This book looks at two Iraqi sisters and their lives after the war as well as about two outsiders, an American and Palestinian, who found a women’s center. So it’s sure to be chock full of women’s rights issues. I tend to really enjoy nonfiction books written by journalists, and I’m excited that Asquith also has a previously published book about teaching.

And that’s all of my loot for the week! Have you read any of these? Where should I begin?

Reading in Colour

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I was planning on doing a review post today. But there’s this issue, that I’ve been trying to write about all month, and I just can’t seem to find the right way to approach it. I’ve gone through four drafts, and none of them have satisfied me. But, here I am, trying again.
I live in a white-washed society. And as a white person, I benefit from that.

You know, I’ve heard about privilege, the -isms, and all of that since I began college. I’m sure many of you have as well. If not, you need to go read this article: “White Privilege: Unpacking the Invisible Knapsack” by Peggy Mackintosh. Go on; I’ll wait. It shouldn’t take you long to read, and I think it’ll really help our discussion here. Because I do want a discussion.

A couple weeks ago, this whole privilege thing, and how easy it is to be oblivious to it when you’re the beneficiary, really struck home for me. I was hanging out with my best friend here. He’s a great guy, and he’s also a straight white guy from an upper middle class Christian family who’s pretty tall and not overweight, so he’s got just about every privilege there is. I was trying to explain to him why I am a committed feminist, and why feminism still matters in our world today. I don’t want to make this a post about feminism, so don’t comment on this bit, but when I said: “I want to look at our Senate and see 50 women senators. I want over 200 women sitting in our House of Representatives. Because until then, I don’t feel like my government is made of my people,” (Or something to that effect.) he replied “Well then, run for office.” And I wanted to scream, because I was trying to get through to him that he doesn’t have to run for office, he can live his life however he chooses, comfortable in the knowledge that our government has a ton of people who are the same gender as him. Basically, I wanted to smack him over the head with his knapsack.

Back to race. Just in case you didn’t go read that article, or if you haven’t read it in awhile, here’s the part I’d like to focus on:

In my class and place, I did not see myself as a racist because I was taught to recognize racism only in individual acts of meanness by members of my group, never in invisible systems conferring unsought racial dominance on my group from birth. Disapproving of the system won’t be enough to change them. …To redesign social systems we need first to acknowledge their colossal unseen dimensions.

Yep, I jumped over a bit of it. But you get the gist, right? So let’s talk about one of those unseen dimensions, the one that’s relevent to book blogging. Let’s talk about how many white authors we read vs. how many authors of colour. Do you know? Have you paid any attention at all to what ethnicity the authors you read are? Because if not, and if you live in one of these white-washed societies, I’d be willing to bet you’re reading almost all white authors.

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Almost six months ago, back in August, I suddenly realised that 80% of the fiction I read was by white people. I didn’t put it that way at the time, though…no, I said that 20% of the fiction I read was by people of colour. The latter makes it sound better, doesn’t it? But I made a decision: for the rest of the year, I wanted to read an equal amount of white/POC fiction and make sure that 25% of my nonfiction was written by authors of colour. Then I had a panic attack…what had I just committed myself to?! Would I have to read books that I didn’t really love just to hit my ratio? I only knew a handful of non-white American authors, so where should I even begin trying to look for them?! I was afraid it was going to be awful.

Then I went into full-on research mode (and y’all know how I love putting book lists together)…and at the end of the year, counting since I had made that promise, I had read equal amounts of white and non-white authors from the US and from the rest of the world. On the nonfiction side, one-third of my reads were by POC authors, which surpassed my expectations (and let me tell you, when I first began researching, it seemed like only white nonfiction writers were published). Yep, I had to try harder, especially at the beginning. I had to be more conscious of the books I was choosing to read (although now it’s become a habit). And I definitely didn’t love every POC book I read. But then, I don’t love every white author I try either. And here’s the thing…after several months of changing my reading, I’ve barely scratched the surface of all of the wonderful POC literature out there.

In fact, I fully intend to read this way for the rest of my life. And yes, I do plan to keep track, and to hold myself to that firm ratio. At least, until it becomes second nature (a few years ago, I did the same thing when I noticed I had read almost all male authors that year…now, at least half the books I read are by women, and I don’t have to pay attention to it). I’m willing to sacrifice a little of my reading spontaneity and whims (although really, not that much) in order to make sure that I’m aware of more viewpoints. It’s important to me in principle, and just as importantly, it has improved my reading tremendously! It’s funny what being aware of something does though…because in the last few months, the white washing of the publishing industry seems so much more obvious. Oh, and the white washing of the book blogosphere.

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There, I said it. Because that’s really what all of this is working up to, and why I’ve yet to find a tactful way to talk about this. I want to see more discussions of books by people of colour here in the blogosphere. I just conducted a highly unscientific ‘poll,’ by scrolling through my Google Reader and counting the first twenty reviews that popped up. Only two of those reviews were books by people of colour. Two! It reminds me of one of those privileges Mackintosh lists:

22. I can remain oblivious of the language and customs of persons of color who constitute the world’s majority without feeling in my culture any penalty for such oblivion.

And you might be thinking, “Well, it’s not my fault that my favourite authors happen to be white. It’s not like I purposely avoid non-white authors…I just don’t hear of many books by them that I want to read.” Because that’s how I felt at this time last year. And it’s a huge problem that POC authors have more trouble getting published than white ones. But don’t let that problem become a smokescreen, a reason for to say “Well, if there were POC books published in my favourite genre, I’d read them. But there aren’t, and I’m not a publisher, so whatcha going to do?” Because seriously guys, I promise you that there are books out there, written by POC authors, that you will love. You just haven’t heard of them, because, well, our society is white-washed.

I’m not saying that we should all stop reading and reviewing books by white people. What I am saying is that we should all start reading and reviewing books by non-white people. Because the more POC books we read and review, the more aware we’ll be of all of those wonderful authors out there that no one’s talking about. And if you say, “Oh well, I don’t believe in positive discrimination. I believe everyone should be treated equally,” then I’d encourage you to go read that knapsack article one more time.

Here’s the thing. I feel awkward even bringing this up…I don’t like drama and controversy in blogland. I prefer to talk about books, and the ones that are amazing, and the ones that really sucked, and the authors I’d invite to a fantasy spin-the-bottle game (ok, maybe that last one has never actually come up). But if there’s one thing the last few months have taught me, it’s that reading is an inherently political act. Even if you’re not consciously paying attention to the ethnicity of the authors you’re reading, that’s still a choice. A choice to support the “invisible systems”, which reward people for being white and penalise them for being any other colour. And even though it feels somewhat odd for me, as a white girl, to initiate this discussion, as if I’m stepping on other people’s toes, I remember another privilege Mackintosh pointed out:

30. If I declare there is a racial issue at hand, or there isn’t a racial issue at hand, my race will lend me credibility for either position more than a person of color will have.

I’m not trying to make you defensive. But here’s what I’m asking. Examine your reading choices, from an ethnic point of view. Are you comfortable with what you see? If not, change something. Commit, preferably publicly, to reading X number of POC books. Or X percentage. Or be sure to review the ones that you do read. Or do a post about it to spread awareness. Or start requesting that your library buy specific POC books (my library allows patrons four requests a month, and I’ve been using them on POC and GLBT books to try to round out their collection). Or ask your favourite bookstore why their endcap displays feature so many white authors. Just do something!

I’m home sick almost all of the time, and since I’m too sick to work and thus have no income, I can’t buy the books by POC authors that I’ve liked it. But changing my reading, making purchasing suggestions to my library, reviewing non-white authors on my blog…these are the small steps I can take to show that I’m not ok with my society’s marginalisation of non-white people. And I think that’s a statement all of my readers would agree with.

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Now, on to the fun part! I’m going to recommend a few books, in different genres and flavours, so that if you want to read a POC author and don’t know where to start, you’ll have at least a few ideas. But seriously, feel free to comment and/or e-mail me if you’d like me to give you a personal recommendation (keeping in mind I’m nowhere near an expert…I don’t want people to think I’m cocky or something). Or check out some of my reading lists for challenges (all accessible via the Current Challenges page)…I make a conscious effort when I’m putting them together to add in ethnic diversity wherever possible. And to stop pimping my own blog for a moment, Color Online is a great YA resource (as well as more general community discussions), there’s the I Read in Color Webring hosted by BrownGirl Bookspeak, White Readers Meet Black Authors, and I’m sure many other resources out there that I haven’t discovered yet (although feel free to share any you think are helpful!). Now seriously, let’s talk about the books! Oh, and honestly, most of my US POC reading last year was African American authors, so there’s going to be a dearth of Hispanic, Asian American, and Native American recommendations on this list. I’m sorry about that; this year, I’m focused on evening that out a bit more. Oh, and I haven’t linked to my reviews of these books (because that would take forever), but you can always look something up in my review directories if you’re curious. All of the books I’m suggesting here are ones that I’ve read and loved!

If you’re a fan of graphic novels, try anything by Shaun Tan, Incognegro by Mat Johnson & Warren Pleece, Bayou, Volume One by Jeremy Love, or Skim by Mariko & Jillian Tamaki.

If you can’t get enough thrillers, reach for Indian Killer by Sherman Alexie. If you’re more the mystery type of person, try more village cozy style of Wife of the Gods by Kwei Quartery or the more hard-boiled A Beautiful Place to Die by Malla Nunn.

Or maybe you’re more interested in neo-gothic stuff? I loved White is for Witching by Helen Oyeyemi.

If you’re a fan of classic literature, Narrative of the Life of Frederick Douglass, Their Eyes Were Watching God by Zora Neale Hurston, and Naguib Mahfouz’s Cairo trilogy are must reads. Or for those modern classics, be sure to include Toni Morrison and James Baldwin on your TBR list. They’re famous for a reason!

More of a historical fiction person? Someone Knows My Name by Lawrence Hill, The Farming of the Bones by Edwidge Danticat, The Hummingbird’s Daughter by Luis Alberto Urrea, or The Book of Night Women by Marlon James might just fit the bill.

Itching for something contemporary, with a lyrical flavour to it? Why not try Song for Night by Chris Abani, Hardboiled & Hard Luck by Banana Yoshimoto or Where We Once Belonged by Sia Figiel?

Or maybe you just want a modern, strong woman as a book’s main character? Give a look to A Golden Age by Tahmima Anam or The New Moon’s Arms by Nalo Hopkinson.

Green Grass, Running Water by Thomas King proves that magical realism works outside of Latin Amerca!

I know that I have a thing for books set in the American South. Sugar by Bernice McFadden is one of the best I’ve ever read!

If you’re a fan of YA, you have to read Jacqueline Woodson. Lucy the Giant by Sherri Smith and A Wish After Midnight by Zetta Elliott are both marvelous as well.

Perhaps you enjoy coming-of-age stories that feel more like adult literature? You can’t go wrong with Annie John by Jamaica Kincaid or Bless Me Ultimate by Rudolpho Anaya.

Looking for a challenge? A Suitable Boy by Vikram Seth will make you feel like an endurance runner while My Name is Red by Orhan Pamuk will push you to try out mental gymnastics.

If you’re a short story fan, be sure to give Hunger by Lan Samantha Chang a shot.

Don’t worry-I’ve got some suggestions for non-fiction readers as well.

Do you love travelogues? Serve the People by Jen Lin Liu is a marvelous one.

Atul Gawande writes some of the most amazing essays I’ve ever read: you can’t go wrong with either of his collections: Complicated or Better.

Notes from the Hyena’s Belly by Nega Mezlekia is the kind of memoir that makes me love the genre.

And if you enjoy reading books about books as much as me, try out A History of Reading by Alberto Manguel.

I’m going to stop there, but I hope that I’ve inspired you to try out some new authors! And after over 2,000 words, I’m turning the floor over to you. What do you think about ethnically-aware reading? Do you have any favourite POC authors you think everyone should read? Do you think there’s plenty of diversity in book blogging, and I’m just not looking in the right places? Whatever your reaction to this post, I hope you share it.

Catching Up with Bilbo

Hello all of you adventurous wanderers, exploring Middle Earth by reading The Hobbit! We’re now a bit over halfway through January, so we’re halfway through our celebration of all things Bilbo-ish as the first part of the Lord of the Rings read-a-long. As always, don’t let our schedule pressure you, though; if you’ve already completed the book, or if you haven’t started it yet, just move at your own pace. I will say, though, to try to keep posts you link here at about the middle of the text (which is about through chapter eight)…if you talk about later events, be sure to post spoiler warnings for first-timers who haven’t reached those parts yet.

We’ve never done a read-a-long before, and they’re pretty new to the blogosphere, so in a way I’m making this up as I go along. But just to let you know, in addition to the questions/discussion topics today, I’ll be posting once more at the end of the month with more questions/prompts. The 31st is a Sunday, so I’ll post on Monday, February 1st (which will also mark the first day of The Fellowship of the Ring read-a-long, hosted by Claire). If you’ve decided to skip the middle updates, and simply review the book as a whole, that’s when you should add your review link too. Now we have a bit more structure!

As I said in my first post, while I’ve provided a jumpstart for our discussions, feel free to pick and choose which questions to answer, or to completely ignore them and focus on something else in your own post. You may also add to the discussion via comments here; remember that you can subscribe to a comment feed, so if you want to make sure you don’t miss out any participants’ thoughts, just look below the text box when you’re commenting and click the small checkbox that says ‘Notify me of new posts via e-mail.’

On to topics!

• Where are you in the story? So far, has the book lived up to your expectations (for first-timers)/memories (for rereaders)? What’s surprising or familiar?
• Have you been bogged down anywhere in the book?
• Let’s talk about the songs…are you skipping over them to get back to the prose? Why or why not?
• What do you think of the narrator’s voice?
• Does your edition have illustrations or maps? Have you been ignoring them or referring back to them?
• Now it’s time to play favourites! Who’s your favourite main character? Who’s your favourite minor character (i.e.: villains, random helpers, etc.)? What’s your favourite scene? Do you have a favourite quote to share?

I hope that helped stimulate your own creative juices! Once you’ve written a post, be sure to share it in the Mr. Linky below. And don’t forget to visit the other participants to see how they’re reacting to the book so far!

I’m a touch over halfway through; I’ve finished chapter eight, entitled “Flies and Spiders.” It’s taking all my self-control to limit myself to a chapter every other day or so; I want to just race throgh it! I don’t think I’ve read The Hobbit since I was in middle school, and one thing that’s surprised me so far is that it’s much easier to read than I was expecting (I think that’s because I’ve read Lord of the Rings several times in the interim, so I’m getting them confused). Gandalf is kind of an ass, compared to my memory of him. I like that though…he’s not a benevolent, simplistic character at all. I was also a bit taken aback by how little time is spent in Rivendell, and especially the lack of description. The elves are definitely on the outer fringes of the book, and you could almost miss them. While I’ve been told that Bilbo loves the elves, I haven’t been shown why. Oh-and I’d completely forgotten about the huge spiders! I couldn’t help thinking that a certain someone ‘borrowed’ that idea. That being said, Gollum is just as creepy as I remember! And the trolls; for some reason, I’ve always remembered them, and it was fun to see that they haven’t changed. And Bilbo himself…my mom has never liked Bilbo, but I do! I think he rises to the occasion admirably, especially since he’s constantly out of his element.

Ok, this is going to make me sound like a total nerd, but when I come to a song in the text, I sing it. Out loud. Sometimes several times. I think the songs are one of the best parts of the book, much more sophisticated than the rest of the story, and they hint at all the wonderful solidity that Middle Earth has. Also, you can tell that Tolkien was a marvelous linguist…he has a great ear, and he uses a lot of the rhyming/rhythm schemes common to Old English (which I learned about in The Ode Less Travelled by Stephen Fry and which were refreshed for me when reading the introduction to Sir Gawain and the Green Knight last year). I find that the songs all have very particular characters, and as soon as I start singing them, the music readily emerges. Whether it’s the goblins’ creepy 2/4 beat, or the dwarves’ lilting laments (which I tend to sing in B flat), or Bilbo’s cheeky song to draw away the spiders dotted with extra sharps, I just love them.

As far as the narrator’s voice goes, it has that kind of mildly condescending tone that I associate with the Golden Age of children’s lit (and British authors). I grew up on those kind of narrators, and they’ve never bothered me. In fact, I find them comforting and soothing. But if I were reading it for the first time, and if I hadn’t read Lewis and Nesbit and Blyton and Boston and others as a child, I’m sure it would bother me

I am a total map nerd, so you can bet I’ve been consulting the included ones to follow Bilbo and the dwarves! My edition includes Tolkien’s illustrations, and while they’re nice, I can’t say I spend much time on them. Maps aside, I’m much more of a words person than a picture person.

Now for the favourites! I feel like I should just do shotgun answers, hehe.
>>Bilbo. I think he’s really the only main character…the dwarves don’t have as much differentiation/personality as I remembered from being a child. Maybe that will change now that Gandalf’s left.
>>Beorn, the shapeshifter. He loves his ponies, he hates goblins, and he lives on honey and cream!
>>I love the spider scene…it’s creepy and funny all at once, and it’s the first time that Bilbo really comes into his own. Silly dwarves. The riddles between Bilbo and Gollum come in second.
>>Ok, I’m going to share one of the songs. I love them all, so it was difficult to choose, but here’s one of the dwarves’ (and yes, I sang it again while I was typing it out):

The wind was on the withered heath,
but in the forest stirred no leaf:
there shadows lay by night and day,
and dark things silent crept beneath.

The wind came down from mountains cold,
and like a tide it roared and rolled;
the branches groaned, the forest moaned,
and leaves were laid upon the mold.

The wind went on from West to East;
all movement from the forest ceased,
but shrill and harsh across the marsh
its whistling voices were released.

The grasses hissed, their tassels bent,
the reeds were rattling – on it went,
o’er shaken pool under heavens cool
where racing clouds were torn and rent.

It passed the lonely Mountain bare
and swept above the dragon’s lair;
there black and ark lay boulders stark
and flying smoke was in the air.

It left the world and took its flight
over the wide seas of the night.
The moon set sail upon the gale,
and stars were fanned to leaping light.

There you have it. I’m thoroughly enjoying my reread, and I’m so happy to know I”ll be spending the next few months in Middle Earth.

Sunday Salon: the Stiff Post

I woke up after too much sleep this morning, and found that my neck had decided to fossilise. It does this occasionally, and while I’m not sure what has made my fibro act up this time, it’s incredibly frustrating. But don’t worry-I’m ensconced in a comfy chair, with my trusty heating pad, so things could be worse! I ended up reading quite a few books this week…many of them were short, so it looks like I’ve been reading more than I probably have. I’ve been better at reviewing books as I read them so far this year, so I have seven books to discuss today.

I began this week by finishing up Moby Dick by Herman Melville after I posted last Sunday’s Salon. I really did love this classic, and you can read my final thoughts if you’re curious. Then I turned to The Ladies from St. Petersburg by Nina Nikolaevna Berberova, which was a collection of three novellas. As my regular readers know, I studied Russian in college, and so I have a soft spot for Russian authors. But I think this might be the first time I’ve read a classic Russian woman author! They’re sadly remiss from the list of Russian literature. Berberova was born in 1901, and she went into exile in 1922 and settled, like many at the time, in Paris. Eventually (after WWII) she ended up in the States, and the three novellas collected in the book span the time periods. I will say upfront that I am much more interested in literature from the Russian Empire than I am from the Soviet Union. So my favourite of the three novellas was the first one, which lends its title to the collection, and is about a mother and daughter trying to take a vacation in the midst of the revolutionary chaos. They’re from the upper classes, and they still think that their side will win. But the book isn’t really about politics; it’s about the mother-daughter relationship, and the power of individuals choosing to the do the right thing even in the midst of war. But I can’t tell you more about it without explaining the whole plot (this is often a problem for me in novellas), which I don’t want to do because I want you to read it! But I found it moving without being sentimental, and the ending was perfect. The middle novella, “Zoya Andreyevna” was my least favourite, probably because it was set in the USSR. It had a bit of a Dostoevsky feel to it, with Zoya becoming feverish and her narrating becoming confused, and pretty much all of the characters (except Zoya) were awful. From a technical standpoint, I think it was well-written, but it just wasn’t my cup of tea. Finally, “The Big City” was an allegory about communism, all set inside an apartment building so large it contains everything. I liked this one; it’s difficult to pull off allegory nowadays, but Berberova did it. The story itself was still interesting, and I didn’t feel like I was being whacked over the head with the author’s feelings…there was space for me to interpret and make up my own mind. All in all, I’m very happy that I read these novels, I’d definitely be interested in reading more Berberova in the future, and I’d recommend her to anyone who enjoys early 20th century lit.

After that, I finished another trio of novellas, this time by Edith Wharton. I’ve already reviewed them for the Classics Circuit, but suffice it say Wharton is an incredible writer!

Continuing on my shorter-classics trend, the next book I finished was The Sorrows of Young Werther and Novella by Johanne Wolfgang von Goethe (my edition included the ‘novella’ at the end-I’d call it more of a short story, but I’m just talking about Werther here). This was my read for the Decades 2010 Challenge, what with Werther being published in 1774. It’s primarily an epistolary novel, which isn’t a form that always works for me, but in this case made for an incredibly readable book. Honestly, I was a bit nervous of reading 18th century lit, but if this is representative of the century, I’m now super-excited. I know that when it was published Werther took Europe by storm, a classic equivalent of The Da Vinci Code There were even women’s perfumes named after it! It’s the story of Werther, a young German who while not noble is certainly well-off, his idles in the countryside, and eventually a tragic love triangle. I’m sure the latter is why it was so popular; Lotte, as seen through Werther’s eyes, is pretty adorable, and her fiancee Alfred is also a good man. Werther himself is, as my introduction states, a complete egoist. Goethe does a great job of making his narrative consistent, and I was continually astounded at the levels of petulance Werther could work himself up to with no justification. It’s like watching a spoiled child, except more entertaining! Goethe is a story teller more than anything, and while there’s the occasional pastoral moment, and Werther regularly goes off into philosophical ‘musings’ (that are quite shallow, the work of a dabbler), the plot keeps moving forward. I knew before I read the book how the story ended, but that didn’t ’spoil’ anything for me, thankfully. I very much enjoy The Sorrows of Young Werther, I fully intend to read more Goethe, and I’d recommend this to anyone looking for a fun, fast classic!

I moved to modern England with White is for Witching by Helen Oyeyemi, my first book for the African Diaspora Challenge. I loved this book to bits and pieces, and you see read all of my gushing if you’re so inclined. Then I turned to Hunger by Lan Samantha Chang, which is a novella and short story collection centered around Chinese/Taiwanese immigrants to America (can you tell that all of these novellas I originally put on hold for the November Novella Challenge had come due with no more renewals? lol). Chang is an excellent writer; she captures emotions so well that sometimes I found myself forgetting to breathe when the characters were having a tense scene. The title novella really affected me, since it involves violinists (I played the violin for five years), and a family with two sisters (just like me) and a father who has difficulty being a father (ditto). The whole story is told from the mother’s point of view, and begins when she meets her future husband and goes all the way to her death. I loved seeing how the relationship dynamics evolved over time, and while it was difficult to watch has the father destroyed his relationship with his daughters, it always felt true. The narrative voice was genuine as well. Then short stories that followed the novella were also wonderfully written. I had to favourites, the first and the last. “Water Names” is a very short story (I think five pages) that tells of young Chinese-American girls hearing old folktales from their grandmother. It’s really more of a ‘capture the scene’ type of short story, and it did that so perfectly. The final short story, entitled “Pipa’s Story” is set on Mainland China during the 30s. It was the only one not set in the US, and since it was set during a time that I haven’t read much fiction about, it felt really fresh to me. Pipa is from a village, and her mother is a wise woman, but when she goes to Shanghai to work as a maid and make more money, she finds her mother’s past catching up to her. You know me-anything that hints of wise women, and I’m automatically half in love! But the whole way the story is told is simply wonderful. I know I keep saying that, but Chang really blew me away with her prose. This was her debut, and I was excited to discover that she also has a novel out (Inheritance, which shares a setting with “Pipa’s Story” and revolves around sisters) which I intend to read sooner rather than later! If you love good writing, I highly encourage you to give Chang a try (if short stories aren’t your thing, just go for Inheritance).

Speaking of China, I then finished a fascinating nonfiction book: The Long March by Shuyun Sun, which I had picked up for the China Challenge. I hazily knew about the Long March before, that Mao and the Communist army walked across much of a China, and that most of the soldiers didn’t make it. But now I know so much more! This isn’t a conventional history book, though. Sun is Chinese herself, and much of the tension in the book revolves around how she keeps discovering facts and stories about the Long March that simply don’t match up with what she was taught. To a certain extent, we’re all taught ‘propaganda’ in school (for you Americans, think about how your elementary school teachers taught ‘the discovery’ of the ‘New World’), but in a totalitarian state like China, Mao’s version of the Long March really became their history. Sun is a journalist, and she decides to go on a trip recreating the Long March, so that she can see all the places for herself. At the same time, she seeks out veterans (who are all septo- and octogenarians by now) to discover their stories, which she shares throughout. I loved this book because it has so much of the individual in it. Sun doesn’t try to disappear from the book; she shares her confusion and shock when she learns, for example, that one of the greatest battles of the Long March was really more of a skirmish. Or that thousands of soldiers disappeared, not because they died fighting, but because their ran off after being virtually impressed into service for the Red Army. At the same time, this doesn’t feel like a vendetta against Mao or the Communists at all; while most of the book portrays (to me at least, as an American reader) the Red Army in a pretty bad light, Shuyun acknowledges the good parts too. She sees how the men and women who survived the March were incredibly strong, and devoted to their cause, and she admires them as real heroes for that. There’s a refreshing lack of cynicism in the book that immediately drew me in, and made it feel as if I was journeying alongside Sun. The stories from various veterans were simply fascinating…although I’ll warn you that I read the last chapter, which concerned what happened to the women soldiers of the Western Legioncaptured in northwestern China, with tears streaming down my cheeks. I’d highly recommend The Long March to anyone who enjoys travelogues or would like to know a bit more about China, and I’ll for sure be reading Ten Thousand Miles Without a Cloud, Sun’s travelogue in the footsteps of the Chinese Buddist monk Xuanzang.

As part of the Woolf in Winter read-a-long, I read and reviewed Mrs. Dalloway by Virginia Woolf. I loved reading all the participants’ posts and comments, and I encourage everyone to join in the fun! I’ll be skipping To the Lighthouse (I read it for the first time last year, and it feels too close for a reread; I’ll be reading another Woolf, though-Between the Acts), but in February I’ll be back to reread/discuss Orlando and The Waves.

I listened to two classics on audio this week: Oliver Twist by Charles Dickens and Narrative of the Life of Frederick Douglass by Frederick Douglass. I’ll be reviewing them on Tuesday. But after all that heaviness, I decided I wanted a lighter audio selection. Exploring my library’s eBranch (where I can instantly download audiobooks while wearing pajamas! woohoo!), I saw Odd and the Frost Giants by Neil Gaiman. I read it in hard copy back in 2008 (I won it in a giveaway Nymeth had way before it was published in the US! I’m so special! hehe), and really enjoyed it, so I thought it’d be a treat to reread it via audio. Then I started listening, and discovered that Gaiman himself narrates it-double treat! And it’s actually set in Viking Norway (I knew it had Norse gods, but I couldn’t remember whether it was set in contemporary or medieval Norway), so it works as my ‘historical fiction’ selection for the Tournament of Reading Challenge. Triple treat! Since it’s a children’s book, it’s a short narrative (2 ‘parts’, so I think between 2-3 hours), but I really loved it. Gaiman brings a kind of magic to all of his work, that makes me delight in a book regardless of its target age level. And it was great fun to hear how he imagined the voices! Odin’s especially was different than the version in my head. Oh-for those of you who don’t know the plot, Odd is a young Norwegian during the Middle Ages who doesn’t fit in. So he wanders off one day, and ends up getting caught up with Loki, Odin, and Thor, who have been kicked out of Asgard by the Frost Giants. If the Frost Giants remain in power, there will be eternal winter, and all of Odd’s people will die, so he decides to help the gods return to their rightful place. I’m a huge fan of Gaiman, so pretty much any time I review one of his books (except for the grahic ones), all I have to say is “OMG, I loved this so much! Myths and legends! I wish Gaiman was my father so that he’d make up stories for me at night!” (because yes, apparently reading children’s books make me regress to the age of 10). And then all the commenters who are Gaiman-o-philes like me say “I know! Me too! He’s like the best!” and everyone who hasn’t read Gaiman yet just nod their heads and back away slowly. So my reviews of his books are less than successful. But yeah: Odd and the Frost Giants was just as good the second time around, and of course Gaiman reading his own work is wonderful. I’m *still* in the queue for the audio version of The Graveyard Book (which he also narrates, and which will also be a reread for me), but this one has me excited that I’m now at #12! Oh, and I liked the hints of Viking society in it, which is what makes it work for the Medieval Challenge.

Speaking of favourite authors writing books for children…I finished Haroun and the Sea of Stories by Salman Rushdie last night. I’ve been a big Rushdie fan for several years now, and I’m working my way through all of the books he’s published, but this is the first one I’ve read that isn’t intended for adults. I must say…it took me by surprise! His other novels are so dense and baroque, I couldn’t even imagine how he would manage to write a children’s story. But this works, and when my niece is a little older, I hope I can read it with her. While it’s definitely written at a simpler level, it’s still got those Rushdie touches…firmly grounded in Indian culture (and Kashmir makes an appearance or three), lots of word play, and a strong message against absolute power. The whole book is really a love song to stories, which made it delightful to read. All of that being said, it was a bit like eating delicious, perfect whipped cream, only to discover there’s no pumpkin pie underneath. My brain didn’t get a workout from Haroun and the Sea of Stories the way it did from, say, Midnight’s Children. Still, if you’re a Rushdie fan working though his backlist, Haroun definitely won’t disappoint, and if you’d like a taste of him but are a bit nervous of his bigger works, Haroun could be a good way to get to know him (then go read Shalimar the Clown!). And of course, if you’ve got elementary-age kids hanging around, I bet they’d love the book. (Oh-forgot to mention. I read this for the What’s in a Name? 3 Challenge, as the ‘body of water’ selection.)

Finally, this morning I finished Dancing in the Dark: a Cultural History of the Great Depression by Morris Dickstein. This book is incredibly well-researched and well-written, my first bulky, focused nonfiction read of the year. And for the first half (it’s a big, solid read too, at over 500 pages of text alone), I was delighted with it. I imagined writing a post in my head about how Dickstein really illuminated much of the decade for me, how he made me want to read new authors, go on a Steinbeck craze, and watch only 30s movies for the next month. And all of that is true; it’s obvious that Dickstein loves the culture of the 30s, and his enthusiasm is infectious. But then I started noticing something odd. There are almost no women discussed in the book at all, and even those that appear are usually brief asides in a passage about a man (the one exception to this is Zora Neale Hurston). And then I began to get a bit annoyed, and as I read more and more about all these male cultural icons of the 30s, I got impatient, wondering when the women would show up. Well. They never do. Even in the penultimate, very brief chapter, entitled “Gender Trouble,” in which Dickstein discusses one novel by one female novelist, he spends almost the whole time on her male characters. Additionally, although Dickstein does a marvelous job of covering Jewish 30s culture, the book is pretty much whitewashed. There is one chapter that focuses on Hurston and Ellison, but even his discussion of jazz focuses as much, if not more, on white musicians than black ones. There’s no mention at all of any other minorities. Moreover, Dickstein has this odd habit of raising a complicated race/gender issue, than cavalierly throwing it away. Like this excerpt:

As Gary Giddens writes, “From the days of antebellum minstrel shows to the present, the point at which indigenous American music becomes pop culture is the point where white performers learn to mimic black ones.” This could also be seen not simply as theft or imitation but a positive synthesis of different cultural traditions, though deeply unfair in its relative rewards. Jazz itself was a melding of musical traditions-African rhythms, Delta blues, stride piano, ragtime, New Orleans brass-as Ralph Ellison frequently argued. It combined primitive energy with subtle refinement.

I’m not selectively quoting; the next sentence starts Dickstein’s look at Goodman’s life. I mean, ‘it could be seen’?! Why yes, it could, but it’s going to take more than one sentence, or an argument that African Americans melding various styles from their own musical heritage is somehow equivalent to white musicians using their style and profiting from it due to the racist nature of the 30s to convince me. Why even bring it up at all? And whenever Dickstein discusses women, he does it with a distinctly unenlightened air…I rather felt like I was hearing a great-uncle discourse on my gender. Analysing A Star is Born, a film in which the success of a Hollywood actress, Janet Gaynor, makes her alcoholic, declining-career actor husband kill himself, Dickstein has this to say about the ending:

But in her famous concluding lines, Gaynor announces herself to the audience as “Mrs. Norma Maine,” keeping her husband’s name alive by erasing her own identity. It’s an upbeat climax that tugs at the heart, but seems untrue to the film, which kept warning us that, for a Hollywood star, private emotions could scarcely stand up to the public demands of success.

Really?! That’s an upbeat, heart-warming ending?! See what I mean? Dickstein doesn’t even bother to look at how endings like that (in many screwball comedies, the strong women ‘gets her comeuppance’ like Katherine Hepburn in Woman of the Year) might reflect the sexism of the times. He doesn’t even seem to process that far from warming my heart, that ending makes me want to chuck something at the screen, while thanking all the heavens that I was born now. And that’s not the only example I could share. In the end, I think this is very strong as a White Male Cultural History of the Great Depression. I don’t think Dickstein actively set out to exclude women and ethnic minorities from the book. But passive sexism, at the end of the day, is still sexism, and this is a marvelous example of why we have to create ‘Women Studies’ departments at universities. It’s sad that in such a comprehensive study, by such an obviously erudite mind, the blinkers are never taken off. Dickstein makes no attempt to see anything from a non-white or non-male perspective, and in the end, that made me, as a woman reader, feel inconsequential.

Mexico 2010 and Reading the World Challenges

Does it surprise anyone that I’ve come across two more challenges that I couldn’t resist? These are both geared towards reading internationally, which is one of my favourite things to do! And they both are open to nonfiction as well as fiction, which always makes me happy. I had great fun putting these reading lists together, and I’m sure I’ll have just as much fun actually reading the books. I’m curious…are you guys limiting how many challenges you join? Why or why not?

To jump to a specific challenge:
Mexico 2010 Reading Challenge
Reading the World Challenge 2010

Mexico 2010 Reading Challenge
Sylvia is hosting another challenge I can’t resist: the Mexico 2010 Reading Challenge. Participants read at least three books (in honour of the tricolour Mexican flag) of Mexican literature, history, or art. As Sylvia points out, in 1810, Mexico became independent and in 1910, the Mexican Revolution began, so there’s not excuse for me not to learn more about my southern neighbour! Here’s my pool of possibilities, fist nonfiction then fiction:

• Biography of Power by Enrique Krauze : this sounds like the best history of modern (last two centuries) Mexico available, and Krauze is Mexican. But it’s huge (799 pages of actual text), which is the only thing that makes me nervous. It’d be a project, but then, I do enjoy a good project!
• The Heart that Bleeds by Alma Guillermoprieto: an essay collection by a Mexican journalist.
• The Labyrinth of Solitude by Ocatavio Paz: Paz has to be one of Mexico’s most famous writers, and I’m ashamed that I’ve never read anything by him. This is a collection of essays that draw a ‘portrait of Mexico.’
• Mongrels, Bastards, Orphans, and Vagabonds: Mexican Immigration and the Future of Race in America by Gregory Rodriguez: the title makes it sound like it’s mainly about the US, but from reading summaries, it sounds like Rodriguez spends a lot of time on immigration and race issues in Mexico. I’m always curious about immigration issues anyway, and this book sounds really good.
• The Daughters of Juarez by Teresa Rodriguez: true crime has been one of my least favourite nonfiction genres, but I’d like to give it another chance. This book, about a series of murders that took place in a Mexican bordertown near El Paso, and written by a Mexican television correspondent, sounds sad but interesting.
• Mexico: the Revolution and Beyond by Agustin Victor Casasola: this is a photography book, which I keep meaning to read more of! It focuses on early 20th century Mexico and just seems fascinating!
• Swift as Desire by Laura Esquivel: I wasn’t a huge fan of Like Water for Chocolate, but I’d like to give Esquivel another chance!
• Shadow without a Name by Ignacio Padilla: while Padilla is Mexican, this novel is set in Europe, during the first half of the twentieth century, and centers around chess.
• Women with Big Eyes by Angeles Mastretta: this book is about all sorts of strong women, which obviously appeals to me!
• In Search of Klingsor by Jorge Volpi Escalante: another book by a Mexican author set in Europe, this is a spy-thriller during WWII. I’m always on the lookout for a good spy story.
• Leaving Tabasco by Carmen Boullosa: a story about a young woman who wants to escape her small town life.
• The Underdogs by Mariano Azuela: this is a novel set during the Mexican Revolution, and a classic since it was published in 1915. I want to read more classics this year!
• Constancia and Other Stories for Virgins by Carlos Fuentes: I read my first Fuentes last year (Aura) and really enjoyed it; the blurb says that this short story collection has a similar feel.
• Here’s to You, Jesusa! by Elena Poniatowska: a fictional biography of a strong Mexican woman who is caught up in the key events of Mexico’s twentieth century history.
• Into the Beautiful North by Luis Alberto Urrea: I adored Urrea’s debut novel (The Hummingbird’s Daughter), so I can’t wait to read this one!
• Gonzalez and Daughter Trucking Co. by Maria Amparo Escandon: this doesn’t sound like my typical fare, but sometimes it’s good to push ourselves! Libertad González is in a Mexican women’s prison, and she passes the time telling stories to the other inmates. These stories are about the titular trucking company, and I’m really curious to see what the tone of the book is!

Reading the World Challenge 2010
PaperTigers is hosting their 2nd round of the Reading the World Challenge. Participants read at least one book from/about/by someone from each of the seven continents over seven months. In a neat twist, you can choose your own starting month, any time between January and June, and then you have to be finished seven months later. I’m going to start in February. I’ve also decided that, instead of just one book, I’m going to pick a specific country from each continent, and then read at least three books relevent to it, including at least one nonfiction, one fiction, and one author native to the country. (However, I’ll only be reading one book about Antarctica, for what I hope are obvious reasons.)

For Africa, I’m going to focus on Ethiopia, with the following options:

• Beneath the Lion’s Gaze by Maaza Mengiste: this is a just-released debut novel by an Ethiopian author set in Addis Ababa “on the eve of the revolution” that follows one family and their various reactions to the war.
• Cutting for Stone by Abraham Verghese: I’ve seen several positive reviews of this one, also a debut novel by an Ethiopian author, in the blogosphere. And there are twins! And secrets! It sounds like an epic family saga, which tends to be right up my alley.
• Held at a Distance by Rebecca Hails: this is an intriguing-sounding memoir (I loved the Ethiopian memoir I read last year, In the Hyena’s Belly). When Haile was a child in the 70s, her parents emmigrated to the US. She returned to Ethiopia in 2001, and this is an account of that trip, and I’m sure her family’s history.
• Sweetness in the Belly by Camilla Gibb: Gibbs is Canadian, but much of the book takes place Harar, and then later among Ethiopian refugees in London. It’s the story of Lilly, who after an odd childhood, ends up being a white Muslim caught up in the Ethiopian revolution.
• There is No Me Without You by Melissa Fay Greene: another one I learned about thanks to book bloggers! Greene is a Western journalist with two adopted Ethiopian children, and in this book she profiles Haregewoin Tefarra, an Ethiopian woman who takes care of AIDS orphans. There are so many complexities surrounding international adoption, the AIDS epidemic, etc., that this sounds like it could be a really thought-provoking book.
• The Hospital by the River by Catherine Hamlin: this is a memoir by an Australian gynecologist and her husband (also a gynecologist) who moved to Ethiopia and set up a hospital to help women suffering from fistulas. When I read Half the Sky last year, I was horrified to learn about how many women suffer from these horrific (sorry, I can’t think of another adjective) childbirth complications. I feel like I have a moral obligation to learn more about it.
• In Search of King Solomon’s Mines by Tahir Shah: this is a travelogue by an Anglo-Afghan (according to Wikipedia) author who travels about Ethiopia looking for King Solomon’s mines (as is evident by the title!). He’s written lots of interesting-sounding travelogues, so if I enjoy this one, I have a whole backlist to explore!
• The God Who Begat the Jackal by Nega Mezlekia: Mezlekia wrote that Ethiopian memoir I mentioned loving earlier, so I was delighted to discover that he now has a novel out! And it’s set in pre-colonial Abyssinia! I’m seriously so excited about this one.
• The Beautiful Things that Heaven Bears by Dinaw Mengestu: this is another one that’s gotten a lot of blogger attention. Mengestu was born in Ethiopia, but he moved to the US when he was 2, and his debut novel looks at an Ethiopian immigrant in D.C. during the 70s.

For Antarctica, I’ve found a couple of nonfiction books that sound interesting (but if you’ve read and loved a book about the frozen continent, let me know in the comments!):

• The Coolest Race on Earth by John Hanc: I’ve been trying to expand my awareness sports books, since I like to think I read widely in nonfiction, and this sounds really interesting! Apparently, there’s a marathon held annually on Antarctica, and this is a book about both the race in general (it began in 1995) and Hanc’s particular experience when he decided to his 50th birthday present would be participating in it.
• Terra Incognita by Sara Wheeler: there are a lot of travelogues out there about Antarctica! But for some reason this one jumped out at me. Wheeler spent seven months down there, and in addition to writing about her experiences, she includes a look at the historical explorers.

For Asia, I can’t decide whether I want to focus on Thailand or Pakistan. So I’m including options for both!
Thailand:

• The Latehomecomer by Kao Kalia Yang: this is a memoir/family history of a Hmong refugee who immigrated to America when she was 6.
• Sightseeing by Rattawut Lapcharoensap: this is a short story collection set in modern Thailand, with a focus on coming-of-age themes. Lapcharoensap is Thai-American.
• Four Reigns by Kukrit Pramo: this is a historical epic (which really appeals to me) written by a Thai author that begins in the 1890s and goes through WWII, following one woman who’s connected to the royal courts.
• Touch the Dragon by Karen Connelly: I guess this is out of print (since there’s no info available about it on either of the book seller sites I checked), but Connelly is a Canadian author (perhaps best known for her novel set in Burma, The Lizard Cage): this is a travelogue/memoir of her year living in Thailand as a teenage exchange student.
• Letters From Thailand by Botan: this is apparently one of Thailand’s most popular ‘modern classics,’ and is about the life of a Chinese immigrant in Bangkok.

Pakistan:

• Rock & Roll Jihad by Salman Ahmad: this is a memoir by a super-popular Pakistani rock star who is now a UNESCO Goodwill Ambassador.
• In Other Rooms, Other Wonders by Daniyal Mueenuddin: an interlinked short story collection (which is a format I find fascinating) set in Lahore among the landed gentry by an American-Pakistani lawyer.
• The Wish Maker by Ali Sethi: set in modern Pakistan, this debut novel explores two cousins, and features strong women.
• The Geometry of God by Uzma Aslam Khan: this is a look at a scholarly family who get into an evolution v. creationism battle during President-General Zia’s administration. Since that’s such an issue in the US (absurdly so, in my opinion), I’m curious to read about it in another country!
• The Duel by Tariq Ali: this nonfiction account of US-Pakistani relations is written by a well-known British-Pakistani political commentator.
• The Dancing Girls of Lahore by Louise Brown: Brown is a sociologist who spent four years living with Maha, a modern-day Lahore dancing girl, and her three daughters. This is an account of their lives.
• Trespassing by Uzma Aslam Khan: a forbidden love story is at the heart of this novel set in modern Pakistan.
• Kartography by Kamila Shamsie: another novel set in modern Pakistan, this one is more of a family saga.

For Australiasia, I really wanted to focus on some of the island nations of the Pacific. But let me tell you, there’s not many books available here in the States written by people of those countries! In the end, I put together slim lists for Papua New Guinea and Tahiti.
Papua New Guinea:

• Notebooks from New Guinea by Vojtech Novotny: this is a travelogue by a tropical biologist.
• The King of America by Samantha Gillison: a novel about a rich young American who leads an anthropological expedition to New Guinea.
• Four Corners by Kira Salak: an account of Salak’s solo journey that recreated British explorer Ivan Champion’s trip in Papua New Guinea.
• Maiba by Russell Soaba: I’ll have to ILL this one, but since a university library in Denver has it, I hope that I can. It’s a novel about Maiba, the only child of the last chief of a village, who tries to keep her village together in spite of the changes modernity is bringing.

Tahiti:

• Frangipani by Celestine Hitiura Vaite: the first novel by Tahitian Vaite to be published in the US, it focuses on a modern Tahitian woman. And if I enjoy it, my library has three other books by Vaite!
• Aphrodite’s Island by Anne Salmond: this history book isn’t released until a bit later this year, but it sounds like a wonderful look at when Europeans arrived at Tahiti and what resulted.
• Twenty Blue Devils by Aaron Elkins

: this is one of a mystery series that features an American anthropologist. It’s set amidst the coffee plantations of Tahiti, and since reading a travelogue focused on coffee and fair trade issues last year (Javatrekker), I’ve been curious about the topic.

For Europe, I’ve chosen Poland (there aren’t as many novels by Polish authors on this list as I would like, but most of my library’s holdings of Polish novelists are actually in Polish…frustrating!):

• The Polish Officer by Alan Furst: I really loved the historical spy Furst novel I read (Night Soldiers), and I’ve been wanting to read more ever since. This is set in 1939 and concerns a Polish intelligence officer working in Hitler-occupied Poland.
• A Country in the Moon by Michael Moran: this is a travelogue focusing on Polish culture.
• The Peasant Prince by Alex Storozynski: a history book about a late eighteenth-century Polish prince who was all about revolution.
• Cosmos by Witold Gombrowicz: a novel about two young men who meet in a resort town, with a noir-ish feel to it.
• Moving House & Other Stories by Pawel Huelle: a short story collection set in post WWII Poland.
• Treasury of Classic Polish Love Stories: this is a slim dual-language short story collection that my library has.
• Quo Vadis by Henryk Sienkiewicz: a historical novel set in Nero’s Rome by a Polish novelist.
• A Long, Long Time Ago and Essentially True by Brigid Pasulka: an adorable-sounding novel by a Polish-American author set in 1990s Poland, but with hints at family history going back to WWII.

For North American, I’ve chosen Nicaragua (ok, so it’s technically Central America, but I’m doing a Canada Challenge and a Mexico Challenge, so just go with it, hehe):

• Meet Me Under the Ceiba by Silvio Sirias: I’ve read several positive reviews by bloggers I trust, so this newly released novel set in the Nicaraguan countryside sounds worth reading.
• Blood of Brothers by Stephen Kinzer: Kinzer is an American journalist, and this is an account of the Sandinistas’ revolution.
• The Country Under My Skin by Gioconda Belli: a memoir by an upper-class Nicaraguan author who joined the Sandinistas.
• The Jaguar Smile by Salman Rushdie: I love Rushdie’s fiction, so I’m curious about this nonfiction account of his travels in Nicaragua.

For South America, I’ve chosen Brazil:

• The Seamstress by Frances de Pontes Peebles: this debut by a Brazilian novelist is a historical epic account of two sisters from backcountry Brazil
• em>The Silence of the Rain by Luiz Alfredo Garcia-Roza: this is the first in a mystery series by a Brazilian author set in contemporary Rio de Janeiro.
• Futebol: the Brazilian Way of Life by Alex Bellos: Brazilian journalist Bellos looks at the role of soccer in Brazilian culture.
• The Burning Season by Andrew Revkin: Revkin is a NYT science reporter, and in this book he looks at the fights over the Amazon rainforest.
• Brazil: Five Centuries of Change by Thomas Skidmore: this is the best sounding concise history of Brazil I came across, but if you have other suggestions, let me know!
• The War of the End of the World by Mario Vargas Llosa: I wasn’t a huge fan of the first book I read by this Peruvian author last year (The Bad Girl) due to its protrayal of women, but I like to give authors a second chance, and his writing style was strong. And this book, set in nineteenth-century backlands Brazil and focusing on a fight beween an anarchic township and the central government, sounds really interesting.
• City of Beasts by Isabel Allende: I’ve loved all of Allende’s adult fiction, so I’m curious about her YA stuff. It sounds like it’s more overtly fantasy (vs. the magical realist style I’ve encountered in the past), and is an adventure novel featuring a young American boy and his grandmother in the Amazon.

Mrs. Dalloway (thoughts)

I just finished my second reading of Virginia Woolf’s Mrs. Dalloway, and I find myself as enchanted as the first time. I’ve loved Woolf since I first met her when I was 16 (via Orlando, which I’ll be rereading next month!), and for me the opening pages of Mrs. Dalloway felt like floating on a current. I could give myself up completely to the prose and just bob along, relaxed and dreamy and full of thoughts. I realise that’s a mildly tasteless metaphor for Woolf, but I couldn’t think of a substitute…air is too thin for what I felt, and riding in any kind of transport too inorganic. A great many of my fellow book bloggers also read the book and are posting about it today, as the first part of Woolf in Winter (Sarah is the host for this book), and I’ve loved reading all of the posts. It amazes me how differently we can all react to the same book, and I think that says a lot for the richness of Woolf’s writing.

As for myself, I find Mrs. Dalloway to be a wonderful little book, one that validates the odd internal monologue I know I have going almost constantly, and I always finish it feeling hopeful. I think Clarissa has a wonderful life…she’s a character I’d happily become, since she finds joy in the little things, she’s well off materially, she has a good man as a husband, and a daughter who, while being troublesome in the way all teenagers are, is good as well. Moreover, Clarissa herself doesn’t seem to want more (which I think is the key to happiness)…the only real times she seems dissatisfied with her life is when Peter is there, making her feel petty. I think she looks back with nostalgia on her youth, but we all do that, and it’s not a sign that her life is pointless or wasted.

I was surprised how much I loathed Peter this time around. The first time, I found him mildly annoying, but this time, I was really angry with the way he seems to want to make Clarissa has dissatisifed with her life as he is with his. And he’s such a snob! But he really has no right to be a snob…it’s not as if he’s devoted his life to art or anything marvelous. Nope, he’s a civil servant whose hobby appears to be random love affairs with inappropriate women. I fail to see where he gets off judging Clarissa for anything! And I don’t think he sees her as she truly is; I think he’s projecting himself on to her. Since he wants more to life than a comfortable existence among the British upper class, she must to. After all, she was the great love of his life, and if she’s happy being conventional, what does that say about him? And whenever he’s around, Clarissa finds herself acting, which is as far from ‘being her true self’ as it’s possible to be. I want to banish Peter back to India, sending his self-righteousness with him.

While, for me, Clarissa is the heart of the book, I think that the Septimus bits are just as important. First of all, Woolf demonstrates her real power as an author; her way of capturing Septimus’ thoughts feels just as convincing as Clarissa’s, and the two couldn’t be more opposite. I love how I always know exactly whose viewpoint I’m reading, simply from the shifts in tone and focus Woolf makes. That being said, while Clarissa feels like a real person, Septimus feels more like a symbol to me. He represents the bits of England that were destroyed by the war, all of the young men that never came home, or the ones who always carried memories of the trenches. Whereas Clarissa and her circle are an older generation, Septimus seems to embody the dashed hopes of the younger one. They’re the ones who saw that earlier way of life break down, and they’re struggling to find a new value system. So while I appreciated Septimus and what he brought to the book, I couldn’t empathise with him as I did with Clarissa, and I didn’t really care when he launched himself out the window.

On the other hand, I felt so much for Rezia, his wife. I can’t imagine loving someone and watching him decline into insanity, desperately trying to help, but never knowing what could make it worse or better. Woolf further isolates her by making her Italian, an outsider in London, which makes her situation even more precarious. I often wonder what happens to Rezia at the end…I imagine her travelling back to Italy, to trim hats with her sister again. I hope she finds a new husband, one to have children with, since she seems to want to be a mother. But nothing can make her the light-hearted girl that she was before.

It’s funny…I find it difficult to blog about a book like Mrs. Dalloway! There’s so much I want to say, so many different aspects I could focus on. But I think I’ll save something for the next rereading. Now I’m off to read more of what my co-participants had to say!

White is for Witching (thoughts)

You’ve read Shirley Jackson, right? (If not, step away from your computer, gets your hands on the first copy you see of We Have Always Lived in the Castle, and come back in a couple of hours.) You know how she does psychological, creepy horror so well….when disturbing things are hinted at, but the gore’s not all in your face? And you finish the book, and you’ve got more answers than questions, but you’re still satisfied? Well, I’d like to introduce you to Helen Oyeyemi, who writes as if Jackson was reincarnated into a young, Nigerian-Brit who went to Cambridge and enjoys tossing some experimental stuff into her fiction. I devoured her third novel, White is for Witching, yesterday, and I am so happy that my library has her earlier two as well.

Here’s what I knew before I started reading the book: there were twins in it. All the blurbs used the phrase ‘neo-gothic.’ And one of the twins had pica, which is some psychological disorder that makes you want to eat inedible things and not eat real food. That was totally enough for me to read the book, and I tell you that it lives up to all those blurbs, so if you want to go in completely blind, just stop reading, go grab the book, and come back once you’re done so we can gush together. Not completely convinced? What if I add….it has fairy tales and folklore from Europe, Africa, and the Caribbean. There are several narrators, and most of them are at least mildly unreliable. The novel is divided into main parts entitled “Curiouser” & “And Curiouser”. There’s a haunted house. It would totally work for the GLBT Challenge, as well as the African Diaspora one that I read it for. Don’t you want to just eat it up now?

For those of you who’d like to know a bit more about why I loved this book to death, I’ll go into further detail. Nothing too spoiler-y, of course, but there were so many reasons why I loved it! First of all, I love it when there’s a narrator in the book who’s obviously insane, but doesn’t realise that they’re insane, and so you have to read between the lines. And in this case, not only has Oyeyemi pulled it off perfectly, but it’s not even a human narrator. The creepy, evil haunted house is one of the narrators! I cannot even begin to describe how awesome this is. I also really enjoyed the contemporary British setting; much of the book takes place in Dover, and then for awhile the action moves to Cambridge. And the twins are upper sixth formers when the novel starts, so the mix of totally creepy stuff with everyday British teenage life was great fun. Then there was the love of clothes that really run throughout the book…I don’t want to imply that even 10% of the story was about clothes, but just the little details and descriptions tossed in now and then delighted me. And there’s one scene when Miranda’s father takes her dress shopping…listen to this passage:

When she tried on the last dress in the pile he’d built up, she was sure he would like it. He had to. It didn’t look like anything she already had, the skirt flared wonderfully, and there was the sweet ribbon bow at the waist. It was a dress to be worn by the sort of girl who’d check that no one was looking, then skip down a quiet street instead of walking, just so the fun of it was hers alone.

Isn’t that just perfect? Later, Miranda sews a coat, and it had me itching to grab out my sewing machine again!

I think this book works so perfectly because Oyeyemi creates these very real, vivid characters, with day-to-day habits and tastes, the kind of people who remind you of your friends, or children, or whatever, and then mixes them in with the evil supernatural element. Now, there is a bit of an experimental edge to the book, especially in the very beginning and very end. But the vast majority of the book is straightforward storytelling, so if experimental stuff isn’t your thing, don’t get scared off. This isn’t Calvino or Danielewski by any stretch of the imagination. The first eight pages, which form a kind of preface that I had to go back and reread when the book was over, do feel a bit random; you’re immediately plunged into the story, and I had a couple ‘hmmm’ moments. So if you just do the sample online thing, keep in mind that most of the book isn’t written like that.

I could seriously go on and on about all the things I loved in the book: the inclusion of lesbians as if it’s no big deal (because it shouldn’t be), the little diversions into immigrant/refugee issues (which never felt heavy-handed), how wonderful all the supporting characters are, how genuinely terrifying I found the house, etc., etc. But in the end, I’d say you should go read it, and discover your own reasons for loving it.

Oh! I almost forgot! There’s this fun new feature going on at pages turned: The Reading Habits of Fictional Characters. It started out as one of SFP’s personal reading resolutions for the year, but so many people thought it was a clever idea, that now it’s a blogosphere project! I’ll be taking part, and in White is for Witching, there are regular bookish moments. Here are the three in which actual book titles are given:

There was a bird on the windowsill later in the afternoon. I looked up from Thus Spake Zarathustra and saw it standing motionless.

That was Eliot speaking…I read so much Nietzsche in my last couple years of high school, this made me giggle.

Miri, Eliot, and Luc watched TV and read in Luc’s room. Eliot lay under MIranda’s elbows, reading Mobdy-Dick while she used his back to prop up her collected works of Poe.
“What do you think of Poe?”
“He’s awful. He was obviously…what’s the term…’disappointed in love’ at some point. He probably never smied again. The pages are just bursting with his longing for women to suffer. If he ever met me, he’d probably punch me on the nose.”
“I think Poe’s quite good, actually. The whoel casual horror thing. Like someone standing next to you and screaming their head off and you asking them what the f*ck and them stopping for a moment to say ‘Oh you know, I’m just afraid of Death’ and then they keep on with the screaming.”

Pretty self-explanatory! It goes on longer, and is quite fun, but that’s enough of a taste.

I nodded and looked around. Her bookshelf was quite good-Grimm’s Fairy Tales, Perrault, Andersen, Le Fanu, Wilkie Collins, E.T.A. Hoffman. No Poe, which surprised me, considering the presence of the others.

A description of Miranda’s bookshelf.