"Luster" by Raven Leilani

 

I feel I'm at a loss for words over this gritty, quirky, dark story told from the point of view of Edie, a young black woman in New York City. But Sam read this book before I did, and I am feeling lazy today, so I am going to turn this post over to him. 

SAM: Okay, since it's your birthday, I will write it for you! I really enjoyed this novel. I think what stood out for me, particularly considering it's a debut, was the vibrancy, consistency, distinctiveness and sheer confidence of the narrative voice. It was itself, all the way through. It also feels very compressed: it's only 227 pages long, but reading it is an experience. Every sentence feels charged, sometimes to the extent that you have to read them two or three times to unpack all the meaning. And even then, I felt like there were quite a lot of references that I didn't get. Maybe because I'm not American, or I'm too old.

Luster is a very 2020s novel in terms of its diction, frames of reference, subject matter, themes, and so on, but in other ways it's quite classical/traditional. It reminded me -- and I know this will sound incongruous, but it did --  of writers like John Updike, Philip Roth and Martin Amis. Partly it's the verbal pyrotechnics, partly the dark wit (sections of the book read almost like a highly poetic stand-up routine), and partly the unflinching, unsentimentalized, deglamorized (but still erotic) sex scenes. I'm pretty sure the title is intended to have a double meaning: not only sheen or gleam, but one who lusts.

KATHY: Thank you, Sam! I'll just add "yeah, what he said." And I'll try not to continue abusing my birthday powers too much throughout the rest of the day.

"Winning the Green New Deal: Why We Must, How We Can" edited by Varshini Prakash and Guido Girgenti

I had two main purposes in reading this book. First, to discover what the Green New Deal actually comprises (because all I really knew up until now was what I'd seen its detractors post online, which basically amounted to the idea that we should all be limited to very infrequent toilet-flushing). Second, I wanted to determine whether there was anything that I as an individual can do. 

While I do now have a better understanding of the purpose and goals of the Sunrise Movement and their Green New Deal, I was disappointed to find that they don't actually have a lot of specifics planned out yet. They are currently focusing more on gathering support (both in the private sector and within the government) than on hammering out the details of what needs to be done once they've acquired the power to take concrete action. And as far a what I as an individual can do--this book reinforced my prior thought that the changes necessary to have a positive impact on the environment will have to be of the huge, sweeping variety that can only be effected by organizations with incredible manpower and financial backing (i.e. the government). Unless I want to completely reinvent my apolitical self (hint: I don't) there's not much I can do beyond what I'm already doing.

This book enriched my knowledge of the hoped-for scope of the Green New Deal. I knew the GND involved changes to benefit the environment, along with ensuring that workers who lost their jobs due to these changes would be provided with equivalent (but greener) jobs. What I had not previously realized was that the ambitions of the Sunrise Movement are far greater, encompassing not only climate change, but also social movements, social justice, economics and politics. The aim of the Green New Deal is not merely to halt global warming and ensure that everyone who goes into this with a job also comes out of it with a job; the aim of the Green New Deal includes social equality and an end to injustice for all. This sounds pretty pie-in-the-sky. Not that I don't want what the GND calls for--who wouldn't want what they're suggesting??--but I am too cynical to believe that these lofty goals are possible to reach. 

It's obvious why the Sunrise Movement has chosen the Democrat party to be their champions in a simple big government vs small government calculation, but it's depressing to realize that most of the Democrats currently in office don't support change of this magnitude. I thought with a Democrat as president we would see progress for the environment, but that's not looking likely. It will take, as Sunrise knows, a realignment into a new coalition, supported by change from within (voting old party members out and voting in GND supporters). Disturbing as my lack of faith may be, once again I circle back to the feeling that this will be impossible. I feel like the American government never gets anything done, and what they do accomplish is only by half measures. 

I wish I knew more about the original New Deal. My vague understanding is that it was a big government intervention to restore the American economy after the Great Depression, and that it was a good and successful thing. I am sure that there are strong supporters of small government who think the New Deal was terrible, but (other than it being a prime example of big government) I wish I knew specifics of why they think it was terrible. Also, I can't imagine anything like the New Deal being enacted in today's political climate. (Yes, this is me once again saying that I find it hard to imagine that the Green New Deal will find success.) But . . . is the impossibility of reaching a worthy objective any reason not to try? Surely it's better to aim high and fall short than to remain where we are now. I know people who say that it is incredibly arrogant to believe that humans can have an effect on the environment; I say it is even worse to see the deterioration of our planet and not take steps to make the world a better place. Even if it turns out that nothing works, that possibility shouldn't be an excuse for inaction.

Big talk from me as I sit at my laptop bathed by air conditioning and sipping fresh clean ice water . . .

"The Night Tiger" by Yangsze Choo

The Night Tiger is a story of weretigers, Confucian virtues and murder in 1930s Malaysia. It is told from two points of view: that of Ren, a small houseboy for a recently-deceased doctor who moves to a new post to fulfill the last request of his old master; and that of Ji Lin, a smart young woman who has been prevented from reaching her potential due to her gender. There are missing fingers, a number of deaths (two natural, others not) and even a little bit of lovin'. 

I'm not sure why I never really got into this story. It had a relatively intriguing mystery at its heart (or actually a small collection of interrelated ones) but I wasn't sucked in the way you'd expect. Maybe it's because Ji Lin seemed to have the voice of a modern American. (No, I don't mean she talked about Twitter or wanted to be an "influencer." But also, I don't know how to put into words exactly what I do mean.) You would think (as I am a modern American) that this would help me identify with her. Instead, it made her seem less real to me. 

Another thing that I think kept me from really sinking into the story was that I would have preferred more subtlety. Yes, that same subtlety that can drive me crazy at times, as I wonder, "what did that mean??" and then I spend an inordinate amount of time speculating about possibilities. An example: Ren meets someone at the train station. There are hints about who she is, but then we are actually told her name. And then back at the hospital, there are hints about who is leaving on a stretcher . . . and then we are actually told her name. Please just let me guess! It's what I do!

"Four Thousand Weeks: Time Management for Mortals" by Oliver Burkeman

Despite its title, Burkeman's is not the usual time management book. If you want a 1-2-3 for "here's what you do to make the most of your life," this is not that.

The purpose of this book is more to encourage a shift in perspective. Burkeman baldly states that for each of us, there just isn't enough time. There will always be too much to do. But far from allowing this to be a depressing realization culminating with "and everybody dies, the end," Burkeman pushes us to embrace the limits. Our time and attention are finite, therefore valuable.

Throughout his writing, Burkeman reminds us that "our lives are outrageously brief but full of shimmering possibilities . . . the world is bursting with wonder--the ultimate point is to experience more of that wonder . . . make room for engaging productively with your fellow citizens, current events, or the fate of the environment."

We can't "do it all," and we shouldn't even want to. Being more efficient and getting more done, far from giving us a calm and tranquil life with increased leisure time, actually leads to more anxiety and a greater possibility of feeling too busy. What we need to do instead is to pare down what we do to only what is important or necessary, then be fully present for it. This works better than what many people seem to do, which is to live mentally in the future, trying to reach a point where they have beaten back the chores enough to address whatever it is that they truly find important. That point is impossible to reach, so we need to be sure to incorporate those things we find truly important into our lives now. 

Burkeman asks a few questions at the end of the book, and one of them stuck with me. Is there anywhere in life I am pursuing comfort when what's called for is a little discomfort? What Burkeman means by this: Am I not pursuing life projects that matter the most, because it's easier not to? But I added my own spin. Is there any issue I am not addressing because doing so would cause me discomfort? It's a good question to contemplate.

Burkeman also makes some final suggestions, one of which is to keep two "to do" lists: one open (everything you'll ever want to do goes on here) and one closed (a limited list of perhaps ten things that you actually plan to do very soon). As you mark things off the closed list, you can move other items to it from the open list. This was my favorite suggestion, both because it is something I was already doing before I read this book (yay me!) and because it's a solid, reasonable method that I have found works well. 

Did this book change my life? I am thinking more about my finitude. I intend to be more mindful of the ways I choose to spend my time. And this pushes me one step closer to the freedom of not finishing books that I'm not enjoying. Still not there yet, though. 

“Remember the Alamo?” by Alison Rattle and Allison Vale

Here’s a little book I picked up a while back and have been reading very slowly ever since. When I first saw it at Books-A-Million, I thought reading "American History in Bite-Sized Chunks" sounded like a worthy use of my time. My grasp of history has always been abysmal; maybe I would finally learn something! And when I was flipping through the book and came to the list of US presidents on page xix-xx, my decision was made immediately. The list ended more than ten years ago. I had to have this book. 

So, yeah, I bought this book because it was out of date. Which makes it perverse of me to complain about the weirdly abrupt ending, with Watergate in 1974. That seems an odd year to halt a book on American history that was first published in 2009. Had nothing historically important happened in the intervening years? I mean 9/11 is a huge one. Even Reaganomics and the War on Drugs would seem to merit a mention.

Overall, did this book do what I wanted it to do? Well, if I had any kind of memory it would have. It seems like a pretty comprehensive (at least up until 1974), if not in-depth, overview of our nation’s history. But I don’t feel like I retained any of it. It’s like when I read it, it’s all totally familiar—there wasn’t much in here that I hadn’t at least heard of before. But as soon as I read it, it was gone out of my head again. I’m thinking about re-reading the book. (You might say I’m doomed to repeat it.) But just exactly how many times will I have to go through this?

"Second Place" by Rachel Cusk

I liked this less than other books by Cusk that I've read. I somehow found it less easy to identify with or engage with. It's the story of a middle-aged woman, M, wife of Tony and mother to Justine (from M's first marriage; Justine is now a woman herself, married to Kurt). M had discovered the paintings of L years before in Paris. Now, living with Tony at the edge of a beautiful marsh, M decides to write to L and invite him to stay for a time in the guest house on the marsh. L actually does come to stay, but it's nothing like M imagined. L is harsh and rude and ungrateful, not to mention accompanied by a young woman named Brett.  

As with Arlington Park, Second Place was inspired by a work of literature I'm unfamiliar with (in this case, one I've never even heard of: Lorenzo in Taos by Mabel Dodge Luhan; thus, L is inspired by DH Lawrence). I can't decide if I'm curious enough about that book to actively pursue finding a copy, but I'm definitely curious enough to put it on my TBR list. 

Oh, and who the heck is Jeffers? 

“Beautiful World, Where Are You” by Sally Rooney

This book wrecked me. And not in the cathartic way that Where the Red Fern Grows or Year of Wonders could move me to vicarious tears of grief. No, Sally Rooney put me in a place where I had to stop and think and focus in order to remember the love and happiness and joy in my life. 

Not that I didn't enjoy the reading experience as I was being destroyed. Rooney is three for three in Books I Could Not Put Down, and FSG should be happy to hear that I will probably buy anything she writes from here on out (and I'm sure I'm not the only one). 

This is, unsurprisingly, another relationship story--not just a love story, because it encompasses friendship and, tangentially, family. Alice (a famous but somewhat reclusive writer) and Eileen have been best friends for years; the bulk of the book consists of their email correspondence, but their connections to Felix and Simon are often in the forefront. I feel like a main theme of the story is tension--the type that exists when you try to pull someone closer (especially when they resist) or push someone away (especially when you don't intend to). 

Once again (just like Rachel Cusk does), Rooney has created characters who have these deeply intelligent conversations (though in Beautiful World, most of them are actually conducted by email rather than face to face) and I’m stuck telling people that after I got home from work this weekend I realized that the butt seam of my scrubs was ripped wide open so no wonder I'd been freezing all day. And I just have to make myself feel better by telling myself that sometimes I have deeply intelligent conversations, though definitely not constantly; and surely no one at work actually saw my butt. 

"The Ebony Tower" by John Fowles

Here's a book that was heralded by the New York Times as "THE MOST ENJOYABLE FICTION OF THE SEASON!" in 1974. Sam read it first and he thought I would like it (at least the naughty bits) and I did. Not sure I would have rated it as The Most Enjoyable, but I guess I don't know what it was up against at the time. 

The Ebony Tower is a collection of five long short stories, or maybe even mini-novellas (at least one of them, for sure):

• The eponymous story, "The Ebony Tower," was the long one. It faintly reminded me of The Magus. The dialogue was frustratingly truncated, to the point where half the time I didn't know who was being discussed because the subjects were left out of the sentences, but I got the gist. It's a story about a young artist and critic who goes to the French countryside to interview a reclusive old painter who lives with two nubile protégés. 
• "Eliduc" is a retelling of an old French poem by Marie de France, with shades of Tristan and Isolde. 
• "Poor Koko," I think, may be the author's own nightmare. A writer staying alone in a friend's isolated country house is surprised by a burglar who ends up burning years of his work. (Oops, I think that was a spoiler. Sorry!) 
• In "The Enigma," the disappearance of an MP is the focus of the story until the lead investigator falls in love with the MP's son's girlfriend. (OMG did I just give another spoiler? Well heck. But hey, this book is nearly fifty years old and I think there should be a statute of limitations.) 
• "The Cloud." A group of Brits enjoys a lazy summer day in--oh, again?--yes, the French countryside. I think this story may be the one that sticks with me the longest (at least the bit where Peter and Kate get naughty, anyway). But WHAT HAPPENED AT THE END? Maybe this one should have been called "The Enigma." 

I have deviated from my typical book cover photo with this post, partly because the copy I read was almost as old as I am and looking rather tattered. And partly because as I read I noticed that my nailpolish color maybe should have been called Old Paperback Book Page and I was inspired to take a picture for posterity.

"Nicotine" by Nell Zink

As I finished this book and put it down, my exact words to myself were, "Well, that was weird." 

I didn't like Nicotine anywhere near as much as I liked The Wallcreeper, which is unfortunate but not surprising. I mean, I really really liked The Wallcreeper. It would be amazing for another book (even one by the same author) to live up to the expectations it set. But saying I didn't like this one as much as I liked the other one doesn't mean I didn't like this one. This one was just . . . weird. 

So, weirdness. Nicotine is about a bunch of weird characters from weird backgrounds in weird situations. It had never even crossed my mind that there may be groups of activists squatting in abandoned houses throughout the US. Meth-heads or soap-making fight club members, sure, but political statement-makers? Nah. (Guess it hadn't crossed the mind of the main character, Penny, or anyone else in her family, either, until they were actually confronted with the reality.) 

Nicotine starts with the weird Norm Baker, founder of a weird quasi-cult for the terminally ill, who has become terminally ill himself. His daughter Penny (whose mother was formerly Norm's unofficially-adopted daughter . . . yeah, weird) is by his side for his weeks-long death, after which she finds herself somewhat homeless. So she goes to check out the house Norm grew up in (which he still owned at the time of his death, but had ignored for years) and finds it full of the aforementioned squatting activists. And of course she falls in love with the first one she sees: beautiful golden boy Rob with an embarrassing secret in his pants. 

I feel like the weirdest thing about this book, though--the thing that left me with the lasting impression of its weirdness--was how everyone lived happily ever after. I'm not going to list actual spoilers here (you're welcome), but it's basically the fact that everyone gets what (read: who) they want. (Well, except maybe Susannah?) That just felt surprising to me. I kind of expected more angst and torment. 

"In Five Years" by Rebecca Serle

I can't believe I spent seventeen dollars on this book. Not that there's inherently anything wrong with the book itself. But it's a ROmance. Ugh. 

This book caught my eye because every now and then I like to do this thing where I imagine what my life will be like five years from now. And then when I read the premise (the main character gets an unexpected glimpse of her life in five years, then goes back to life as she knew it) I was intrigued. (I can imagine that if, in 2007, I had jumped ahead to 2012, it would have blown my mind.) 

But when I brought this book home and showed it to Sam, he looked slightly bemused and asked, "Isn't that a romance?" I gasped. He was right. How could I have overlooked all the clues?? It was definitely a romance, firmly in the category at which I scoff. At least it was relatively short, so I was able to get it over with quickly. 

Here's one good thing about the book, though. It inspired me to write an email to myself. I'll receive it in five years.

"The Saturday Night Ghost Club" by Craig Davidson

I tagged along to a bookstore with a friend, not intending to buy anything. (Yeah, right. Like that's ever going to happen! I should have known better.) That bright orange Penguin spine always catches my eye. And I'm a sucker for ghost stories, and for the dark mysteries promised by the back cover. So what if this is probably a YA book? (Who actually decides that, anyway? Isn't it more in the marketing than anything else?)

Anyway, this book was fun to read but I don't have a lot to say about it. It's the story of 12-year-old Jake Baker who is somewhat of an ostracized nerd growing up in Niagara Falls. His best friend is his Uncle Calvin, who owns a store of the occult and who believes in things that most adults have outgrown. When Billy Yellowbird moves to town and it seems like Jake might finally have a friend his own age, Uncle C decides it's time they join him in some ghost-hunting. They spend a summer visiting the sites of several creepy myths and legends around town, hardly stopping to think about the possible truth to their origins. 

I'd say this book rises above the level of what I used to find at Scholastic book fairs, but it doesn't match something like What Dies In Summer. 

Two birds with one stone: Susanna Clarke

Books like these are unfair to all the other books. 

I wish I hadn't done this, but I didn't blog about either of these books right away. When I finished Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell, Sam had just finished reading Piranesi and he was eager for me to read it immediately, so he encouraged me not to take the time to blog about Strange & Norrell but to wait and do one blog post covering both books. I figured it wouldn't hurt for me to break my rules for once. The only problem is that now I'll not end up doing either book justice . . . though I have a feeling that I never could have. 

Both books were so well-written and so engaging. Strange & Norrell was, to me, everything that Grossman's The Magicians had promised me but had failed to follow through on. It tells the story of the return of magicians to nineteenth century England. The book was looooong, and yet it went by so fast! And now I'm eager to watch the TV series. Piranesi, though quite a bit shorter, was every bit as intriguing (or possibly more so, as it had more of an element of mystery), one of those stories that begins with everything cloaked in secrets, leaving you to puzzle your way through. Neither book caused me to deeply contemplate The Meaning of Life, but both were completely engrossing, and the reading experience was the way I wish it could be with every book.