Dog Days Diversions and A Few More Serious Works

It may not quite be the dog days of summer yet, but lately it has felt like it--and I amused myself with the alliteration. After all the nonfiction I was reading earlier this summer, I decided to go for some fluff--mostly but not entirely mysteries (the mysteries ran to the very dark with a strong dysfunctional marriage theme, so not as fluffy as I might have hoped). And I read a few nonfiction books, too (what is happening to me?).

Fluff

Lady in the Lake, by Laura Lippman. This Lippman stand-alone is the story of two Baltimore women in the 1960s. Madeline Schwartz is white, wealthy (until she leaves her husband), and trying to find herself by becoming a newspaper reporter. Cleo Sherwood is black, scraping by, and trying to find a man who can fulfill her. Along with these differences, Madeline is alive, and Cleo announces her own death early in the book. We get to know both Maddie and Cleo well, but we also hear from numerous other characters whose lives intersect with Maddie's as she tries to establish herself and determine who is responsible for Cleo's death--a story that is of little interest to the editors at her paper. The racism and sexism of the time are clear in the challenges that Maddie deals with and Cleo had to face in her brief life. There's one spot near the end that I thought was a weak way to do some explicating, but otherwise I really enjoyed this book.

The Chain, by Adrian McKinty. This book, which has gotten a lot of positive ink, has a very disturbing premise: A child is kidnapped. The parents are told that to get their child back, they must pay a ransom and kidnap another child, who they hold until the parents of that child pay a ransom and kidnap another child, and on and on. They do get their children back, but sometimes they may be required to do additional "jobs" for the operators of The Chain and risk their families being annihilated if they refuse or tell anyone. While reading the book, one cannot help asking oneself: What would you do to get your child back? The answer for the protagonist, a recently divorced woman just out of treatment for cancer, is completely transform herself into a ruthless person. I can't say I exactly enjoyed the book, but it held my interest.

Pride, Prejudice, and Other Flavors, by Sonali Dev. This is not a mystery, but it is rather delightful fluff. It's a retelling of Pride and Prejudice, set in an Indian-American community in Northern California with the gender roles reversed--the female protagonist is a neuro-surgeon from a wealthy, well-educated family, whose oldest child is running for governor, while the male character is a chef with a desperately ill artist-sister who paints vaginas. It's utterly predictable but still fun--and perhaps the only book I've read in which eating is depicted as an orgasmic experience.

Big Sky, by Kate Atkinson. Atkinson is a serious writer, but her Jackson Brodie mystery series, of which this title is a part, is up and down. Big Sky was more down than up--there are a lot of characters (not unusual for an Atkinson book), many of whom are unlikable and seem to have little to do with each other. Most of them come together at the end as Jackson solves years-old and current child trafficking cases. Unfortunately, by then I didn't much care--but Atkinson is always merits a few sentences. Maybe Jackson should retire and the writer should focus on her more serious writing, which has produced some exemplary work.

Not worth a complete sentence:

The Tale Teller, by Anne Hillerman -- A decent entry in Hillerman's continuation of her father's series.
The Silent Wife, by A.S.A. Harriss -- Shame on Kate Atkinson for giving this a glowing blurb.
Since We Fell, by Dennis Lehane -- Shares with The Silent Wife a really dysfunctional marriage.
Blood Orange, by Harriet Tyce -- See comment on Since We Fell.
Watch Me Disappear, by Janelle Brown -- Ditto.
My Lovely Wife, by Samantha Downing -- Is a lovely couple who kidnaps and kills women together by definition dysfunctional? Hmmm. (Sorry that was a complete sentence.)
The Sleeping Beauty Killer, by Mary Higgins Clark and Alafair Burke -- Dumb and predictable.
The King Tides, by James Swain -- Nonsensical.
Crosstalk, by Connie Willis -- Indefensibly long (and so silly).

Non-Fluff

If I Understood You, Would I Have This Look on My Face? by Alan Alda. Alda, a truly remarkable human being, discusses the need for better communication in general and in science and medicine particularly. He also shares  research on communication and looks at how acting exercises (particularly improv) can be useful in developing communication skills. He also describes the work he and others have done at the Alan Alda Center for Communicating Science at Stony Brook University. It's fascinating and well-communicated--and the audio version is read by Alda, who charms as he communicates.

Shout, by Laurie Halse Anderson. Shout is a memoir that examines the traumas of Anderson's youth--she was raped at 13 and lived in a home with alcoholic parents (her father also had PTSD). A year in Denmark as an exchange student may well have saved Anderson's life. She built a family and a successful writing career. Because her best-selling YA novel Speak dealt with teen rape, she is a frequent speaker at schools. Shout recounts one experience when a school principal pulled the fire alarm to prevent her from speaking to a second group of students after he heard her first presentation--denial that allows rape culture to continue is alive and well! Some of the short poems that comprise the book are moving, some less so--but the book is well worth reading. 

Working, by Robert Caro. Caro's career has been dedicated to documenting the lives of Robert Moses and Lyndon Johnson (he is still working on the fifth volume on Johnson). This book allows him to insert himself into that work, something he normally tries not to do. He does this by documenting how he conducted the research on the biographies and how he responded to what he learned. One of the most compelling stories he tells is about an interview with Lady Bird Johnson in which he asked her about a woman named Alice Glass, who was not only LBJ's lover but had enormous influence on the man; Caro recounts being unable to look at Lady Bird as he asked questions and she responded. What he makes clear about Johnson is what a complex and flawed man he was--he stole at least one election, manipulated people cruelly, exacerbated the mess in Vietnam, and yet his accomplishments domestically were unparalleled. Caro, like me, finds Johnson's civil rights speech one of the greatest presidential speeches ever--it's tragic that the "better angels" of his nature could not prevail over his other side.

Favorite Passages

untreated pain
is a cancer of the soul
that can kill you

Sisters, drop
everything. Walk
away from the lake, leaning
on each other's shoulders
when you need
the support. Feel the contractions
of another truth ready
to be born: shame
turned
inside out
is rage.

Shout, by Laurie Halse Anderson

What happened in Selma is part of a far larger movement which reaches into every section and State of America. It is the effort of American Negroes to secure for themselves the full blessings of American life.

Their cause must be our cause too. Because it is not just Negroes, but really it is all of us, who must overcome the crippling legacy of bigotry and injustice.

And we shall overcome.

Lyndon B. Johnson, quoted by Robert Caro in Working

"Creative" Plot Devices: What Makes Them Work or Not?

Two books that I just finished have set me to thinking about "creative" plot devices and why some work and others don't (though they seem like good ideas).

Given the current popularity of podcasts, it's not surprising that they are showing up as plot devices in novels. I had read at least two other novels that used fictional podcasts as a source of text for a novel before reading Conviction, by Denise Mina. In the latest title from mystery-writer Mina, on the morning that Anna McDonald learns her partner is leaving her for her best friend, she has just started listening to a true-crime podcast (she's an aficionado). To her surprise, the podcast is about the death of someone she knew a decade ago, a man named Leon Parker. She decides the conclusion reached in the podcast can't be right and sets off on a madcap road trip with her former best friend's husband Fin (an anorexic over-the-hill rock star). As they investigate Leon's case, they are also pursued by hit men from Anna's past, who believed her to be dead but are alerted they were wrong about that by a picture posted on social media. Fin decides they should start their own podcast about the case, which only leads to more trouble.

Conviction has gotten some very positive reviews, but I found it to strain credulity. Maybe I'm wrong, but it seems unlikely someone who has been trying to stay anonymous for a decade would, on the day her partner left her, set out on a crazy investigative road trip (with someone she barely knows) that is bound to stir the beehive. And the links between Leon's case and the trouble in Anna's past are also rather difficult to swallow. In this case, the podcast just seems like a way to get out a lot of information about the case--and it's not particularly effective. I didn't hate Conviction, but I don't think the rave reviews were justified. 

Lorna Landvik, in Chronicles of a Radical Hag (with Recipes), uses an analog device that might seem dated in today's digital news environment. but I found it much more effective. Haze Evans has written a newspaper column for 50 years. When she suffers a stroke and lapses into a coma, the newspaper's editor Susan decides to republish selected columns and reader responses from Haze's long career. She enlists her teenage son Sam to assist with the job, and the process turns out to be transformative for Sam--and for others in the community. It's a little bit corny but also funny and moving. The newspaper columns are an effective device because they create a distinct voice that makes a nice counterpoint to Susan and Sam's perspectives. And they offer Landvik the opportunity to comment on virtually anything that has happened in the past 50 years that she wants to opine about.

So what's my conclusion about why some "creative" plot devices work and some don't? I guess the main (and perhaps obvious) reason is that if a book has other flaws that cause you to discount it, a clever device is not likely to redeem it. In addition, if the device doesn't serve a particular purpose for which it is uniquely well-suited, then it's not really functional and not likely to be engaging. But I could be wrong!

Being a U.S. Attorney, a Chef, and an Environmental Activist: More Nonfiction

My nonfiction reading has continued, not without some struggle. But the three recently completed titles are worthy of mention here.

I am a big fan of Preet Bharara's Stay Tuned with Preet podcast so expected to enjoy his (much-plugged) book Doing Justice:  A Prosecutor's Thoughts on Crime, Punishment, and the Rule of Law. And I did--though I somehow hadn't really grasped what it is about. In essence, it's a look at the ethical and practical decisions prosecutors must make in four phases of the process: inquiry, accusation, judgment, and punishment. Bharara combines case histories from his years as the U.S. Attorney for the Southern District of New York with his own analysis and even family anecdotes. The result is both entertaining and educational. Perhaps the oddest thing in the book is his use of the Menendez brothers' case as something of a touchstone for the idea that sometimes you miss the most important thing that is happening. You may not agree with all of Preet's conclusions, but you will learn something about the system and be challenged to think.

I am also a big fan of Top Chef so approached the memoir from a show alum with interest. While I have read enough other chefs' memoirs to know that life in the kitchen can be brutal, Notes from a Young Black Chef, by Kwame Onwuachi (just named a Food and Wine Best New Chef), was an eye-opener in terms of the racism still rampant in restaurants, both in the front and back of the house. Onwuachi has an interesting background, particularly in terms of the influences on his cuisine (I don't mean to be dismissive about the challenges and missteps he overcame--I'm just so old I'm more interested in food than youth). Although his rise in the culinary world seems very rapid from the outside, from his perspective, a lot of effort, anguish, and abuse (from chefs and investors, in particular) went into that rise. It's worth understanding what that experience involved. 

I struggled to finish The Hour of Land: A Personal Topography of America's National Parks, by Terry Tempest Williams (of whom I am also a fan). Each chapter of the book is set in one national park and deals not only with the park but with a topic concerning Williams. Since she is a well-known environmental activist, many have to do with the ways in which humans are threatening earth's very future. While I agree with her about the problem and admire her work to seek solutions, these chapters became tedious (sorry--shallow!). Other chapters were more engaging. The chapter on Grand Teton National Park takes a historical approach and is built around a poem Williams was asked to write for the dedication of the Laurance S. Rockefeller Preserve. I liked this chapter a lot, as I did the chapter on Alcatraz, which highlighted her visit to that historic site at the time art by Ai Weiwei was being exhibited. Also interesting was her discussion of the politicization of history at Gettysburg and her description of being in the path of the biggest fire ever at Glacier National Park. Williams is a gifted writer, so it's hard for me to stop reading a chapter for fear I'll miss a beautiful turn of phrase. For other readers, I'd suggest a pick and choose approach to this book.

Favorite passages

Humility is born in wildness. We are not protecting grizzles from extinction; they are protecting us from the extinction of experience as we engage with a world beyond ourselves. The very presence of a grizzly returns us to an ecology of awe. We tremble at what appears to be a dream yet stands before us on two legs and roars.

And the simple, undeniable fact: all wars are political. We will fight for the myth that will support and sustain our point of view at all costs.

. . . the best response to intimidation is joy and resolve.

"We forget the place of anger in the work of love."  quote from Dylan Schneider

All from The Hour of Land, by Terry Tempest Williams