The Gifted School
Several school districts north of Denver announce that they are opening a special school for gifted students--the school will, by all accounts, be fabulous, incorporating all the best practices for educating high-performing and talented kids. But the parents of Crystal (very thinly disguised version of Boulder) go completely nuts in their efforts to ensure that their children--of course, they are gifted; of course, they are more gifted than the child of their housecleaner--get into the school. The narrative focuses on four friends with children who are the same age--and the competition to get into the school is hard on the friendship but even harder on the children! It's very funny (especially to someone who has served on a lot of school district committees with exactly these parents) but also addresses serious issues of privilege, education, friendship, and more. I thought the "surprise" at the end--while genuinely surprising--was kind of dumb, but it didn't take away from my enjoyment of the book.
Such a Fun Age
Such a Fun Age begins with an episode that is frightening--Emira Tucker, 25-year-old babysitter (she has a second job as a typist), gets a call late one night when she's out with friends. Her employer Alix (pronounced A-LEEKS) of the little girl Briar whom Emira cares for wants her to pick up the child for a bit (she can take her to the upscale grocery store, which the child loves) because the parents have had to call the police. Someone threw a rock through their window in protest of a racist comment the newscaster father made on the air that day (this piece is not explained to Emira). At the store, another customer wonders why a white toddler is out with a young black woman dressed in party clothes (and perhaps just a tiny bit drunk). The nosy customer calls security, and Emira and the security guard are soon yelling at each other. A man sees what is happening and videos the confrontation on his cell phone. It feels like things could go very bad--but the problem is resolved, and Emira just wants to forget about it and worry about how she's going to pay for health insurance when she is kicked off her parents' policy on her birthday.
When Emira sees the man who videoed the grocery store incident (his name is Kelley Copeland) on the train, they start dating. He has a lot of ideas about how she should be adulting, as does Alix, who imagines herself quite the "woke" white person. Alix is an "influencer" who is supposed to be writing her first book but spends more time secretly reading Emira's emails. Emira's group of three friends, all of whom are more successful in their careers than she is, also have some ideas about what she should be doing.
There are funny complications and a relatively happy ending (not an "everything gets wrapped up with a bow" ending but Emira does get health insurance!), but neither of these things obscure the act that author Kiley Reid is dealing with serious issues of race, coming of age, and relationships of virtually every type. One thing that bothered me a little was that Reid uses the trope of the black caregiver who truly loves the white child (and Briar certainly needed someone to love her, as her mother barely acknowledged her existence); generally, this trope appears in books by white women (The Secret Life of Bees and The Help) who don't even recognize that the black women who cared for them would rather have been home with their own families. But Reid, who is African American, was a childminder for several years so I recognize the trope has more legitimacy in her hands. At any rate, I really enjoyed the book.
Other Fiction
Trust Exercise, by Susan Choi. Trust Exercise, winner of the National Book Award, is the story of students at a performing arts high school. I found the first section, narrated by Sarah, a young woman who has just published a novel about her high school experiences rather dull. It seems like there have been SO MANY books about exceptional students who betray each other, have bad experiences with adults, etc. etc. The book got more interesting in the second section, when the narration switches to Karen, who describes events from a very different perspective. The third and final section has yet another narrator, Clare, whose identity I don't want to reveal (that would totally be a "spoiler"). I was happy for the varied perspectives, but Trust Exercise would not have made my list of the best books of 2019. Big disappointment.
Water Dancer, by Ta-Nehisi Coates. This Coates' first foray into fiction, and it's an ambitious story about slavery, the violence of white Americans, and the Underground Railroad. Although I could admire the author's intention, I didn't care for the fantastical element or the fact that so much of the book consisted of other people telling the protagonist, Hiram Walker, their stories. I know the book was very positively reviewed, but for me it just didn't work.
Mrs. Everything, by Jennifer Weiner. Weiner has written about the sexism of the literary world, with books about relationships written by male authors (e.g., Freedom by Jonathan Franzen) hailed as masterpieces and similar books written by women dismissed as chick lit. Her point is valid and I always feel bad when I don't love her books. Mrs. Everything (terrible title) is no different--it's the story of two girls from childhood in the 1950s to the present. Jo and Beth (there names are no coincidence) are opposites. Jo is a classic tomboy, intellectual rebel, and lesbian--but she marries a man after her true love betrays her and becomes a suburban housewife. Beth is a well-behaved girly girl, who is first molested by an uncle and then gang-raped at a music festival in college; she enters the "counterculture" eventually ending up at a women's commune and becoming a successful entrepreneur. The plot is crammed with events and issues--and still the book just isn't very interesting.
All This Could Be Yours, by Jami Attenberg. I found this story of family dysfunction more interesting, perhaps because it used multiple narrators and dipped back in time to build back story rather than employing a straight-on chronological approach. The patriarch of the Tuchman family, Victor, is in the hospital, having had a stroke. His children, daughter Alex and TV director Gary, both of whom are struggling, wonder why their mother Barbra stayed with the brutal and crooked Victor. Alex hopes desperately that her mother will explain her reasons now that her father is dying--as is the case in most families, though, she will never really understand her parents. My brief description only hints at the dysfunction--it's both deep and wide. Weirdly, Attenberg sometimes throws in a section narrated by someone outside the family whom they encounter in their travels around New Orleans, where most of the book is set--but in the end, even these sections add depth to the portrayal of a family in pain.
The Travelers, by Regina Porter. This is the story of two interconnected families--one primarily white, one primarily black--and other people in their orbits. I found the book really confusing--there were so many characters with so many different connections, it was hard to remember who everyone was. The fact that every chapter started somewhere not at all related to what happened in the previous chapter added to the confusion. It may be a book better read in print than listened to, but I didn't like it well enough to test that hypothesis.
The Tattooist of Auschwitz, by Heather Morris. To me, this book proved that a good story does not necessarily make a good novel. The author spent years interviewing a concentration camp survivor, Lale, a Slovakian Jew who was given the job of tattooing numbers onto the arms of fellow prisoners. He falls in love with a girl named Gita. Both of them endure horrifying experiences but survive and marry after the war. Sadly, the writing was so leaden that I was actually bored while reading. (Others in my book group liked it, however, so perhaps I cannot e trusted.)
The Jane Austen Project, by Kathleen Flynn. Liam and Rachel travel back to 1815 England with the aim of stealing letters and an unpublished manuscript from none other Jane Austen. The bulk of the book is about their attempts to pass themselves off as 19th-century Brits newly arrived from Jamaica as they try to reach their goal without changing history. At the end, there is a time-traveling twist that livened up the narrative--if the author had done more with the time travel possibilities, the book might have been more interesting. Reminded me a little of the only Jasper Fforde book I have ever read, although in his series, I believe, people actually travel into books--which might have livened this novel up as well.
Memoirs
Leave Me Alone, I'm Reading, by Maureen Corrigan. Corrigan is an English professor and the book reviewer for Fresh Air. I often disagree with her reviews, but found her book interesting (it might not quite be a memoir, but I decided to put it in that category). She focuses on three themes in books that have meant a lot to her: (1) the notion that family dramas/epics of caretaking are the women's version of extreme adventure stories favored by men, (2) the idea that mysteries are one of the few genres of fiction that focus on the honor and details of work, and (3) Catholic martyr stories (this theme didn't resonate for me at all, so I have blanked out what the point was. Interesting if not earth-shattering.
Ordinary Girls, by Jaquira Diaz. This memoir feels like a lot of other memoirs I have read--girls' mother is a schizophrenic addict, father is a hustler and womanizer who lets their brother physically abuse the girls and doesn't seem to mind when the older girl (the author) continuously runs away, gets arrested, drops out of school, and drinks and uses drugs. Diaz was born in Puerto Rico, moved to Miami as a girl, and has obviously turned her life around. But I didn't find much new in her memoir.
Mysteries
The Silent Patient, Alex Michaelides. This mystery has gotten a lot of hype, and I agree it's pretty good--although not perfect. Alicia is an artist who killed her beloved husband Gabriel and has not spoken in the six years since. She is confined to a mental hospital, where new staff therapist Theo (who got the job there primarily because he wanted to treat Alicia) is determined to get her to talk. From the beginning, the reader (or at least this reader) feels like there is something off about Theo, but the author still manages to surprise us with a twist near the end. Definitely worth reading.
The Thinnest Air, by Minka Kent. A woman married to a wealthy older man disappears in a Utah mountain town. Her sister investigates the case--why are sisters, daughters, friends always better able to solve a crime (while almost getting killed themselves) than the police? I'm tired of that particular plot.
The Museum of Desire, by J. Kellerman. Pretty typical Alex Delaware mystery.
The Tenant, by Katrina Engberg. A translated Danish mystery, quite complicated and featuring a rather tortured detective, sometimes likable, sometimes not.
Poetry
An American Sunrise, by Joy Harjo. Harjo is the latest Poet Laureate, the first Native American to hold that post. In introducing this book, Harjo explicitly links the Trail of Tears and the current treatment of migrants on the Southwestern border. Many of the poems in the book, which are interspersed with text passages that provide historic perspective, are, in my view, a form of resistance. Consider this one, for example:
“For Those Who Would Govern”
First question: Can you first govern yourself?
Second question: What is the state of your own household?
Third question: Do you have a proven record of community
service and compassionate acts?
Fourth question: Do you know the history and laws of your
principalities?
Fifth question: Do you follow sound principles? Look for
fresh vision to lift all the inhabitants of the land, including animals,
plants, elements, all who share this earth?
Sixth question: Are you owned by lawyers, bankers, insurance
agents, lobbyists, or other politicians, anyone else who would unfairly profit
by your decisions?
Seventh question: Do you have authority by the original
keepers of the lands, those who obey natural law and are in the service of the
lands on which you stand?
Wise questions that certainly would have screened out the current occupant of the White House. While I struggled with some of the poems (not unusual for me), I appreciated many others. Definitely worth picking up, even if you don't read every poem.
Young Adult
The Boy in the Black Suit, by Jason Reynolds. Reynolds is the new Library of Congress Ambassador
for Young People's Literature. Thus, I decided to read one of his novels. The Boy in the Black Suit is 17-year-old Matt, who works after school in the local funeral home. He is interested in observing how other people grieve, as he is still grieving his mother's death and his father is providing little help, having started drinking heavily and ended up in the hospital. At one funeral, he meets Love, whose grandmother recently died. Love and Mr. Ray, the undertaker, become good friends and supports for Matt, as he struggles to deal with his grief. Good book that should be helpful to kids struggling with grief.
One, by Sarah Crossan. My granddaughter had to read a novel in poetic form for her seventh-grade English class; she chose One and then recommended it to me. It's the story of conjoined twins, Grace and Tippi, who start attending school for the first time in as teens, make two amazing friends while facing scrutiny and ridicule from other classmates, and then face a health crisis when Grace's heart begins to fail. The poetic form seems like especially apropos to the exploration of identity that most of us cannot even imagine. I liked One a lot.
Favorite Passages
Women’s feats tend to be less Herculean and more Sisyphean
in nature.
Words can summon up a skyline from the dark; they can bring
back the people you loved and will always yearn for. They can inspire you with
possibilities you otherwise would have never imagined; they can fill your head
with misleading fantasies. They can give you back your seemingly seamless past
and place it right alongside your chaotic present.
Maureen Corrigan, Leave Me Alone, I’m Reading
“Break My Heart” (excerpts)
The heart is a fist.
It pockets prayer or holds rage.
It pockets prayer or holds rage.
It’s a timekeeper.
Music maker, or backstreet truth teller.
Music maker, or backstreet truth teller.
“How to Write a Poem in a Time of War” (excerpts)
He knew one day, far day, the grandchildren would return,
Generations later over slick highways, constructed over old
trails
Through walls of laws meant to hamper or destroy, over
stones
Bearing libraries of the winds.
He sang us back
To our
home place from which we were stolen
In
these smoky green hills.
Yes, begin here.
Joy Harjo, An American Sunrise
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