BTW, if you love audiobooks or, alternatively, think listening to books is somehow cheating, you might find this small study interesting. It suggests that our brains react the same way to both forms of text: http://blogs.discovermagazine.com/d-brief/2019/08/22/reading-listening-activate-same-brain-regions/
Prize Winners
When I began this project back in 2015, I chose these two prizes because, I guess, they were so well-established. I had not been enamored with most of the Booker Prize winners I had read, so I steered away from that one, and none of the others I knew about had as much history. My goal was basically to push myself to read things I wouldn't pick up on my own--and, while I had read many of the books when I started, I have definitely read some things I would not have otherwise chosen.
The project has led me to some books that I really admired (e.g., The Sympathizer, The Road) and some I thought were total dogs (e.g., A Confederacy of Dunces, Tree of Smoke). And, of course, confirmed my good taste when I found that books I already loved were winners or became winners (e.g., Empire Falls, March, Underground Railroad, The Overstory). To date, Lonesome Dove is the only one that has completely defeated me, but I will return to it some day...when I'm out of books and bored.
So this month, I read two Pulitzer winners, The Known World by Edward P. Jones and Independence Day by Richard Ford (plus The Sportswriter, which introduced the protagonist of Ford's "quartet" about Frank Bascombe). The setting of The Known World is a Virginia farm owned by an African American slaveholder, William Townsend. When he dies, things on the farm begin to fall apart, and we see the effects on the enslaved people; on whites in the community, including his mentor, a white man from whom William's father bought their family's freedom; and on the Townsend family. Aside from learning that there were black slaveholders, I didn't find the book cast much light on slavery or race relations in the time period. I feel guilty about it, but I was occasionally bored as I listened. Perhaps it is a symptom of white privilege to be bored by a book about slavery -- or perhaps the book is overrated. (The experience wasn't enhanced by the fact that I could frequently hear the narrator swallowing.)
Ford's books focus on a middle-aged man trying to make sense of his life. Although he has changed careers, from sportswriter to real estate agent, and a number of years have passed between the events covered in the two books, Bascombe is struggling with similar issues in both--his relationship with his ex-wife and his two children (both relationships are shadowed by the death of his oldest child); his attempts to relate to other people, whether his current girlfriend, a disabled sports hero he interviews as a sportswriter, a member of his divorced men's group who is struggling with his sexuality, real estate clients, or the tenants in two rental properties he owns; and how he should try (if at all) to shape his future. Each novel takes place over a short period of time (Easter week or the Fourth of July weekend); my favorite section of the two books is the trip Frank takes with his son to the basketball and baseball halls of fame in Independence Day. His son has gotten into some trouble and the short trip is supposed to be a time for father and son to bond, perhaps as a first step in the son's eventually coming to live with Frank. Their attempts to make contact with each other are painful and the result is not good. Much of our time as readers is spent in Frank's head, a place I eventually became rather tired of. The books remind me of John Updike's Rabbit Run (I haven't yet read the others in the series) although Rabbit is younger than Frank and, while Ford is a good writer, Updike is a master. I'm glad I read The Sportswriter and Independence Day but probably not glad enough to pick up the other two books in the quartet (The Lay of the Land and Let Me Be Frank with You).
Other Fiction
The Most Fun We Ever Had, by Claire Lombardo. The Most Fun We Ever Had is the phrase an exhausted Marilyn Sorensen says in answer to a question along the lines of "How is it having two babies in diapers?" asked by an academic at a faculty party. Marilyn is a college drop-out whose husband David is in medical school, and her life at the time is challenging. But the phrase becomes a catch phrase for the couple who love each other through raising four daughters and a variety of real-life challenges. The most interesting thing about this book is that the Sorensens are good parents who love each other, yet their four daughters are pretty impressively screwed up--definitely not the usual fictional "bad parents/screwed-up kids" scenario. Lombardo weaves stories from the family's earlier years--presented in chronological order, working up to the present--with stories of what is happening in the present. Because the author gives every character their own sections, she sometimes leaves us wanting to know more about particular family members. Nonetheless, the book is a rewarding read.
Chances Are, by Richard Russo. Three college friends in their 60s, having created very different lives for themselves, reunite at the site of the last college weekend they spent together, the same weekend when the only female member of their foursome, with whom they were all somewhat in love, disappeared. For the first half or two-thirds of the book, I thought Russo was taking this tired trope and making it work (much like Philip Roth did for the class reunion trope in American Pastoral); but then he gives it up and has one of the characters explain everything to the other two--and somehow they are all more or less redeemed. Disappointing--but still worth reading.
Ask Again, Yes, by Mary Beth Keane. As she handed me this book, my friend Lynn said, "I really didn't like this." Not a great thought to start reading with, but I pretty much agreed with her. Ask Again, Yes, is about trauma and friendship that occurs between neighboring families; both families are Irish and the fathers in both families are police officers. Ultimately, the story is about redemption and rising above, but it feels like we've read it before.
I'm Fine and Neither Are You, by Camille Pagan. I did not care for this story of a married couple trying to revitalize their marriage after the wife's best friend dies of an opiod overdose (yes, the author is working in current issues--how admirable). It's gotten a lot of positive reviews on Amazon so maybe it's an age thing (i.e., I'm too old for this book).
The Bookshop, by Penelope Fitzgerald. The Bookshop is a very sad little book about a middle-aged woman who tries to start a bookshop in a small English town. The year is 1959 and the town is full of close-minded people and those who don't want their self-perceived cultural superiority challenged. I don't have much more to say about it but I do recommend it.
Fleishman Is in Trouble, by Taffy Brodesser-Akner. I found this book to be quite strange. It appears to be the story of Toby Fleishman, a short 41-year-old doctor who spends a lot of time on dating apps and porn sites. Then his soon-to-be-ex-wife fails to pick up their children at the appointed time, throwing his life into chaos. The book is narrated by his college friend, Libby, although this was not at first clear to me because some sections of the book are in third person (Libby telling Toby's story) and others in first person (Libby telling her own story). As the book progresses, Brodesser-Akner shifts the emphasis from mostly third person to mostly first person, eventually taking a "meta" turn that I won't go into because it might ruin the book for those who want to read it. I didn't hate the book, but I wouldn't recommend it.
Natalie Tan's Book of Luck and Fortune, by Roselle Lim. I had high hopes for this book about an aspiring chef who inherits her grandmother's restaurant, but the magical realism (her cooking cures her neighbors and restores their street in Chinatown to prosperity) and the simplistic romance just didn't work for me.
Mysteries
The Cold Dish, Craig Johnson. This is the first Longmire novel and, after having read a few of the later books, seen the TV series, and heard Johnson speak (hilarious--highly recommend you go listen to him if you have the chance), it was interesting to see how he introduced the characters in the series.
The Couple Next Door, by Shari La Pena. A couple leaves their child unattended while they have dinner next door and the child disappears. Subsequent events reveal every character to be unlikable or worse, and La Pena's wooden writing does not save the book.
Shell Game, by Sara Paretsky. I couldn't finish Sara Paretsky's last V.I. Warshawsky book, Fallout, because I thought her depiction of Lawrence, KS, was so off base and dated I just couldn't deal. In Shell Game, she sticks with V.I.'s home turf--Chicago--and it's a better read. The case with which V.I. is involved is complicated, involving stolen antiquities, the Russian mob, U.S. immigration policy, and her ex-husband. Although the book was okay, V.I. and her friends are becoming old-hat.
Behind Her Eyes, by Sarah Pinborough. Single mother Louise starts an affair with her boss David while simultaneously embarking on a secret friendship with his wife Adele. Both appear to the reader to be using her, and Louise (who seems to be something of an idiot) cannot figure out what to make of their marriage from the information they give her. I found the book interesting until the author introduced a supernatural element (not sure that's the right word), which rendered it totally ridiculous.
Paradise Valley, by C.J. Box. I gave up on C.J. Box's Joe Pickett series because it had become too dark and too violent. However, Paradise Valley is part of a different series featuring Cassie Dewell, and I enjoyed it--although it's also quite dark. Cassie is trying to trap a serial killer who is known to be a long-haul trucker (evidently introduced in an earlier book, but reading that book is not necessary to understanding this one); the trap goes badly, ending with several police officers dead, including Cassie's fiance. Fired from her job, she continues the search for the so-called "Lizard King," whom she believes has kidnapped her son's friend Kyle. The Lizard King is a an appropriately horrible villain, and Cassie and Kyle relatable heroes.
YA
The Opposite of Always, by Justin A. Reynolds. My 12-year-old granddaughter absolutely loved this book, which has a "Groundhog Day" structure. High school senior Jack and college freshman Kate meet at a party and bond immediately. But Kate is deathly sick, and Jack determines to save her, as he repeats the few months between the party and her final illness over and over, affecting his other relationships and his and his friends' futures with the decisions he makes. Very engaging, funny, and touching.
Everything Beautiful Is Not Ruined, by Danielle Younge-Ullman. When Ingrid's opera-singer mother loses her voice, their lives change drastically, in ways that challenge both mother and daughter. The narrative weaves together stories from their lives post-fame and from Ingrid's experience on a very challenging "Outward Bound" type camp, which her mother has told her she must complete in order to head off to a special school for the musically talented. Both stories are engaging and the book ends with a twist. I really enjoyed the book and want to recommend it to my granddaughter, but it might be a little too mature--maybe in ninth grade.
Nonfiction
50 Things That Are Not My Fault, by Cathy Guisewite. This collection of essays is what you'd expect from the creator of the cartoon "Cathy." The best selections are about her parents and daughter. Pleasant but not eye-opening.
A World Without "
We Are Never Meeting in Real Life: Essays, by Samantha Irby. I guess I'm too old to enjoy Irby's essays about her dating/sex life, but I found essays on other topics both funny and informative. My favorite was written as a job application, detailing her experiences working the front desk at a veterinary practice. It was laugh-out-loud funny and gave me an appreciation for the complexity of jobs that often seem basic when you're on the other side of the desk. It ought to be a slap in the face to idiot pet owners and people rude to workers who are only trying to help them (not that they would recognize themselves). Pick and choose among the essays and you'll likely find something to amuse.
Favorite Passages
She ought to go down to the beach. It was Thursday, early closing, and it seemed ungrateful to live so close to the sea and never look at it for weeks on end. [how I feel about ignoring the mountains]
Penelope Fitzgerald, The Bookshop
The distance grew between us, thickening like an all-day fog, until we were both so well versed in our new roles as people who didn't matter to each other that it was impossible to break through.
Danielle Younge-Ullman, Everything Beautiful Is Not Ruined
And he realized, then, how silly it seemed that you could ever know another person--really know her--and how silly it was to think that he had any idea what it was like to be her, day after day.
Claire Lombardo, The Most Fun We Ever Had
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