One might think that a month of social distancing would be an ideal time for reading and blogging. Alas, I am not necessarily finding it so. First of all, I am still working on writing projects and thus have to attempt to keep plugging away despite the free-floating anxiety. Second, said anxiety seems to be interfering with my ability to read print books--I can listen to audiobooks but I didn't finish a single print book this month (though I have several going). Third, I am once again losing my will to blog. A week ago, I was convinced I should just shut the blog down, but as has happened before, I haven't quite committed to that. So here are some thoughts about this month's reading.
Fiction
The Scent Keeper, by Erica Bauermeister. Bauermeister's previous books were multiple character upbeat stories. The Scent Keeper is focused on one character, Emmeline, and much darker. Emmeline grows up on a remote island with a father obsessed with preserving scents. When he dies, she eventually leaves the island, meets her mother, and starts working for her mother's company, which essentially uses scents to manipulate people. Some interesting information about the power of scent, some lovely descriptive writing, but didn't totally win me over.
Euphoria and Writers and Lovers, by Lily King. These two books, both of which I enjoyed, are pretty dissimilar. Euphoria is about three anthropologists studying indigenous people in New Guinea just before World War II (supposedly somewhat loosely based on Margaret Mead). Writers and Lovers is about a young present-day writer (and waitress) who is trying to finish a novel while skimping by on little money and juggling two suitors. One thing that's interesting about the two books is that King really deals with work of very different types; after reading Maureen Corrigan's thoughts about how work does not play a very big role in contemporary fiction (see last month's post), I was happy to stumble across this writer who writes so well about work. I recommend both books.
The Care and Feeding of Ravenously Hungry Girls, by Anissa Gray. An engaging story about what happens to a family when the eldest of three sisters, who has always been something of a mother to the entire family, goes to prison for misusing funds given to a charity she started. Lots of family dysfunction but still essentially upbeat.
The Girl He Used to Know, by Tracy Garvis Graves. I downloaded this book from the library because the description said the heroine was a graduate of the University of Illinois (my alma mater). It's basically a romance with the twist that the female character is on the autism spectrum (that seems to be a whole genre nowadays). Kind of dumb.
The Glass Hotel, by Emily St. John Mandel. If you've read that this book is about a Ponzi scheme, forget that. There's a Ponzi scheme in the book, but it's definitely not about that. Saying what it is about is difficult--but it's good, and it's nothing like the author's previous (wonderful) book, Station Eleven. I'm pretty sure this description will not convince anyone to read the book, but I recommend it.
The Resisters, by Gish Jen. The Resisters is a dystopian novel with a fairly intense focus on baseball. The narrator is the father in a family of the "Surplus"--the outcasts who are mostly brown, live on swampland or on the water, and are tasked with consuming what is produced by the "Netted," the privileged of society. His daughter, Gwen, is a gifted pitcher, which provides the main arena in which the conflicts between the classes plays out. Odd but worth reading.
Memoirs/Other Nonfiction
Education of an Idealist, by Samantha Power. Power worked for the Obama Administration for all eight years, the last four as the ambassador to the United Nations. There's some interesting stuff here about the United Nations and the work of the ambassador. Overall, I thought the book dragged, much like Hillary Clinton's memoir of her year's as Secretary of State; Power also quoted her own speeches fairly frequently, which I found as tedious as I did when Clinton did the same thing.
All You Can Ever Know, by Nicole Chung. This memoir focuses on Chung's experience as a Korean American (her family was Korean but lived in the United States) being adopted by a white family and her efforts to connect with her birth family. It did give me new insight into an experience I can't totally understand because I haven't lived it (and I still couldn't stop myself from becoming slightly annoyed with the author at times--I may not be as empathetic if I think).
I Miss You When I Blink, by Mary Laura Philpott. Philpott's well-reviewed book is a collection of essays about everyday life. Some are funny, but they don't really seem to say anything of significance and some seem to stop in the middle of a thought. Not recommended.
Trick Mirror, by Jia Tolentino. This is another book of essays, although more serious and outer-directed than Philpott's. Among the essay topics are the tie that ecstasy provides between religion and drugs (!), the Internet, feminism, literary heroines, and Tolentino's stint as a contestant on a teen version of "Survivor." They're thought-provoking although occasionally to the nearly 70-year-old reader irritating in the certitude the relatively young Tolentino (early 30s) has about her views.
Recollections of My Nonexistence, by Rebecca Solnit. This is essentially a memoir of Solnit's writing career, an account of how she found her voice. At this point, Solnit is a darling of the literati, but she wasn't always, and I was interested in some of what she went through in her career. On the other hand, I found that the book got tedious after a while--even though I agree with and support her point of view. She's very smart and a good writer, but maybe this should have been an article instead of a book (I say that a lot).
Mysteries (may be fewest mysteries ever for a month)
A Conspiracy of Bones, by Kathy Reichs. Very little forensic anthropology in this Tempe Brennan novel. So-so.
IQ, by Joe Ide. This is the first in a series featuring Isaiah Quintabe, a brilliant high school dropout in East Long Beach, California. He's an underground private detective, who charges his clients what they can afford (might be $50,000, might be a casserole). This case involves a rap artist with a hit man and a pit bull after him. The level of violence is high, but IQ is an engaging character so I'll probably try another in the series.
The Night Before, by Wendy Walker. Predictable psychological thriller. Walker seems to have a thing for psychologists, as this book, like her previous All Is Not Forgotten, features a psychologist she wants us to think is a shady character.
Favorite passage:
What is armor after all but a cage that moves with you?
--Rebecca Solnit, Recollections of My Nonexistence
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