Nonfiction
My book club started up again for the fall, and Educated by Tara Westover was our first book for the year. I thought I was the only person left in the Western United States who hadn't read this memoir of a young woman's upbringing in an "off-the-grid" (but not really family) in Idaho, but it turns out that wasn't true. The story is amazing, in that Ms. Westover managed to get away from her crazy family and gain an education, including a Ph.D. from Cambridge. However, it's also infuriating in that the Westover children were horribly mistreated by their father (Tara was also mentally and physically abused by one of her brothers), not defended by their mother or anyone in the community, and completely uneducated (the parents claimed to be home-schooling them but in truth they were unschooled). There is much that a person who grew up in a "normal" situation simply cannot comprehend, but when I finished the book I wasn't sure that Tara herself has even now completely processed her experience, but maybe that's not possible either. The book did cause me to consider the line between mental illness and evil and to what extent someone's mental illness should excuse their abusive behavior; that question remains unresolved but I appreciate being prompted to think about it.
Grace Will Lead Us Home, by Jennifer Berry Hawes, was another thought-provoking read that leaves one with more questions than answers. Hawes documents the horrific 2015 shooting at Emanuel African Methodist Episcopal Church in downtown Charleston, SC, and the aftermath for the survivors and the families of the victims. It was upsetting to learn that the survivors were badly let down by the church and their pastors in the aftermath--very little spiritual assistance was provided and funds sent to the church but intended for the survivors and victims' families were taken by the church. The depth of the indifference shown these good people is literally shocking. Many of the survivors and members of victims' families were admirable in the strength and forgiveness they showed following the tragedy; as one might expect, other families experienced conflict and ultimately estrangement, compounding their losses. The story of the perpetrator is difficult to take in. Though his childhood and young adulthood seem to have been rather chaotic, he was not explicitly raised to be a racist; his radicalization seems to have occurred largely online, which is a frightening reinforcement of other stories we've all read. And, while some progress in race relations in Charleston are documented, much remains to be accomplished there and elsewhere. The book offers moments of uplift, but it's mostly terribly sad.
Fiction
Idaho, by Emily Ruskovich, might almost fit into my mystery binge, but the author definitely had more complex motivations than simply to entertain. The book has multiple narrators and jumps back and forth in time. In the present, Ann and Wade are married, and Wade is suffering from early onset dementia. One of Wade's daughters, May, is dead, and his first wife Jenny was convicted of killing her; his other daughter, June, disappeared on the day May died. Without being able to discuss the events with Wade, Ann tries to find her way to the truth of what happened and why it happened. Meanwhile, Jenny is in prison, where she has one friend, a woman who killed two people but is eager to learn. The book is beautifully written and the characters come alive in Ruskovich's prose. I definitely recommend it--but only if you don't need everything neatly wrapped up.
The Immortalists, by Chloe Benjamin, got a lot of positive reviews and landed on a several "Best of" lists, but I actively hated the story of four siblings who at very tender ages go to see a psychic who tells them when they will die. This, not surprisingly, screws them up rather thoroughly. Who would predict children's deaths? How did no responsible adult in their life never find out and help them deal with the predictions? I found the entire scenario so disgusting I could not enjoy any of the deep points other reviewers thought Benjamin was making. Not recommended.
Classic
Unlike House of Mirth and The Age of Innocence, Ethan Frome is not set among the upper class denizens of New York. Rather, Edith Wharton sets this "tale" (as she called it) in rural Massachusetts among struggling farmers, of which the title character is one. Ethan had gone off to college but been forced to return home to care for his ailing mother; he was so grateful to his lively cousin Zenobia for helping in his mother's illness that he married her. Shortly thereafter, Zeena transformed into a dour invalid. Then her cousin Mattie came to stay with them, and the situation between Ethan and the two women became complicated and ultimately sad (I won't say more to avoid ruining the twist at the end of the book). Wharton frames Ethan's story as being told by a visitor to the area 20 years after the end of the story took place; I didn't find this framing added anything (but in general I dislike such frames), but I found the tale interesting. Of course, Wharton's prose is admirable.
The Binge
- Blood Oath, by Linda Fairstein -- possibly her last book, since she has lost her publisher due to her role in the Central Park Five case (as portrayed in Ava Duvernay's Netflix series). Surprisingly, I thought this book was better than a lot of the previous Alex Cooper series.
- A Better Man, by Louise Penny -- Inspector Gamache, Jean-Guy, Three Pines, blah, blah, blah.
- In Her Bones, by Kate Moretti -- Daughter of a female serial killer becomes obsessed with survivors of her mother's crimes and then is suspected of killing one. Interesting premise, not that great in execution.
- Whistle in the Dark, by Emma Healey -- What do you do when your daughter returns from four days being missing and won't tell what happened to her? Again, better premise than book.
- The Wife Between Us, Greer Hendricks & Sarah Pekkanen -- A controlling husband and the women who fall for him and then must escape -- ugh.
- The Last House Guest, by Megan Miranda -- rich friend, poor friend, mysterious death -- again ugh.
- Sins of the Fathers, by J.A. Jance -- I have always liked Jance's character J.P. Beaumont, but this isn't really much of a mystery. More of a dip into Beau's drunken past -- definitely not the strongest entry in the series.
Favorite Passages:
Guilt is the fear of one's own wretchedness.
Tara Westover, Educated
How quickly someone else's life can enter through the cracks we don't know are there until this foreign thing is inside of us. We are more porous than we know.
Theirs is a devotion that is possible only because of their equal disappointments in each other and the knowledge they share that at one time, to the one who mattered, they were each separately enough.
Emily Ruskovich, Idaho
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