Just spent the morning with my book club talking about why books are challenged/censored (fear was our main conclusion) and why people feel compelled to try to limit what other people's children read rather than just choosing deciding if a book is suitable for their own children (I think "people are annoying" was our main conclusion). Speak, the book I read for the meeting (see YA section below) definitely deserves to have a wide audience of teenagers and those who love them. But on to what I've been reading.
Fiction
With her new book, Our Missing Hearts, Celeste Ng has gone in a new direction. Following an economic crisis, blamed by leaders on China, the United States has passed the PACT act--the Preserving American Culture and Traditions act (yes, the PATRIOT act echoes here). PACT means that books are restricted, people are asked to report on their neighbors, children are removed from parents with dangerous ideas, and Asian Americans are treated as potential traitors. The book essentially tells two stories--the first is the story of Bird, a preteen boy whose mother Margaret, a Chinese America poet, disappeared some years before. He lives with his father, a former linguistics professor who now shelves unread books in a library. The title of one of Margaret's book, Our Missing Hearts, has become a slogan for those protesting removal of children from their families. Motivated by this fact and his receipt of a page filled with drawings of cats that he knows is from his mother, Bird sets out to find her. When he does, the book becomes Margaret's story--how she came to be in the situation she is currently in and what she plans to do about it. It's a powerful book about intolerance and injustice, courage, art, and resilience. And, librarians are the true heroes in the story! And it's beautifully written! Highly recommended.
The online University of Illinois alumni online book group I joined earlier this year is currently reading The Violin Conspiracy, by Brendan Slocumb. It's the story of Ray McMillian, a gifted young African American violinist who discovers the family fiddle is actually a Stradavarius worth $10 million. This causes various conflicts, in his family (the elders claim that the violin belongs to them, not to Ray) and with the descendants of the slave-owning family who "owned" Ray's fiddle-playing ancestor (who claim the violin was stolen from them). Then, as Ray is preparing for the prestigious Tchaikovsky competition, the violin is stolen. The narrative moves back and forth between Ray's childhood, when he got no family support and was subjected to discrimination as a black child playing classical music, and his preparation for and participation in the competition, as he freaks out (understandably) about his violin. I enjoyed everything about Ray's life as a black musician, including encounters with unfriendly police, but didn't find the "mystery" particularly compelling. Interesting note: Several commenters in our group thought that Ray's childhood was taking place in the 1970s, while it was actually the early 2000s (I think). I feel like this might reflect white readers' self-delusion about how much has changed--in schools, in the classical music world, and in society in general. We want to believe Ray would not have experienced discrimination from his music teacher in the 2000s, but, sadly, Slocumb, a musician and music teacher, knows more than we do.
Mysteries/Thrillers
Ice and Stone is the latest entry in Marcia Muller's Sharon McCone series, and it's pretty good for the 34th book about one character, perhaps because it deals with a timely topic--the murder of indigenous women. Although the specific reason for their murder seems unlikely to be the motivator for the murders that have and are occurring in the real world, the prejudice and lack of investigation by law enforcement seems on point. There is a weird subplot about an attack on Sharon and Hy's office that goes nowhere, but I still recommend the book.
I know I complain a lot about bad mysteries, but The Coroner, by Jennifer Graeser Dornbush, may be the worst ever--obnoxious main character who is supposedly a brilliant doctor but acts like an idiot (I actually kind of wanted her to die when she was attacked by a murderer); constant mentions that she drives a leaf (is the author getting a kickback from Nissan or is she trying to virtue-signal?); multiple violations of the Fourth Amendment by law enforcement officers (mystery writers really need to get the law right--no one in this book could ever have been convicted because pretty much all the evidence was illegally gathered); a corny romance; and a terrible cliffhanger. Authors who write cliffhangers clearly don't care about their readers--they just want to sell the next book in their series. To make matters worse, this one involves the main character--a freaking doctor--sitting by someone praying for their survival. Why isn't she DOING something? Seriously, the worst.
I first thought Look What You Made Me Do was a complete rip-off of My Sister, the Serial Killer, by Oyinkan Braithwaite. It certainly starts off similarly, but author Elaine Murphy does take the story in a different direction. Carrie is the witless accomplice to her sister Becca's crimes, helping her dispose of the bodies. But Becca's latest victim is discovered in a park--along with 13 other bodies, not killed by Becca. Because it's a mystery novel, Carrie and Becca start trying to identify the other serial killer. And chaos ensues. Not really a fan.
Black Widows by Cate Quinn is not the first mystery I've read in which the murder victim had more than one wife, but it's still quite different. Told from the perspective of the three wives of dead husband Blake--Rachel, the controlling first wife, who was raised in a polygamous cult; Emily, a teenager who has an unspecified sexual problem; and Tina, a former drug addict and hooker, who probably loved Blake the most. The police ping-pong back and forth in terms of who they think the killer is--all three wives are arrested at different times--before the "surprise" of who really killed Blake is revealed. The book was somewhat entertaining, but a couple of things bothered me. First, all three wives (as well as Blake's mother) were presented as somewhat mentally damaged, which I don't think is a fair portrayal of LDS women (although, granted, I don't know any women in plural marriages). Second, while I'm not generally one to worry about authors writing about people different from themselves, it seems odd that a British author who has apparently never even been to Utah, would decide to write this book. Perhaps if she had actually spent some time with LDS folks, she might have drawn more complex characters and not portrayed every LDS character (except for one kid missionary who loaned Tina his car) so negatively.
In Desert Star, by Michael Connolly, Renee Ballard has become the lead detective of the LAPD's newly reconstituted cold case unit. The catch is no other detectives are assigned to the squad--she must rely on volunteers and consultants. Of course, she draws Harry Bosch into the unit with the promise he can work on a case that has haunted him because he knows who did it but can't bring the perpetrator to justice. But first he has to help find out who killed the sister of the city councilman largely responsible for getting the unit funded. Lots of red herrings, but overall it's okay, though it's hard to believe a major city would actually have a unit manned by volunteers. Also, I feel like the more closely she works with Bosch, the less interesting Ballard becomes. Hopefully, the next title in this series will do more with her character.
Science Fiction
Blake Crouch's latest, Upgrade, explores the idea that humans might be perfectible via gene modification (think CRISPR), delivered without the manipulated realizing what is happening. Protagonist Logan Ramsey, an agent with the Gene Protection Agency, goes into a basement where an IED with ice shrapnel explodes. At first, doctors do not think he has suffered any lasting damage, but then he starts noticing he's stronger, smarter (he can beat his daughter at chess), and more focused than ever before. Soon enough, he learns that this was all a trick by his mother, a brilliant scientist who everyone thinks committed suicide after she was responsible for the deaths of 200,000 people when one of her attempts to edit genes had the opposite effect of what was intended. She has also "upgraded" Logan's sister and wants the two of them to "save humanity" by upgrading people globally. Logan sees the potential downsides, while his sister decides to take on their mother's challenge. The rest of the book is a bit too much of a "chase scene" for me--and it's hard to develop character when the focus is on action (and science). Not my favorite Crouch book.
Young Adult
This month, my book group decided we would each choose a banned book and report back to the group on what we read and how it informed our perspective on people who challenge books in a supposed effort to protect young people. I chose Speak, by Laurie Halse Anderson, and it's incredible. It's narrated in first person by a high school freshman, Melinda, whose friends have all abandoned her because she called 911 from a summer party. She hasn't told her friends what happened to her at the party (it's clear she was assaulted, but we don't learn the details until we're quite a ways into the book)--they're just mad because the police came and friends and older siblings got in trouble. Melinda opts to speak as little as possible, which frustrates her parents (who are not the most insightful folk) and teachers. Only her art teacher seems to understand how to help her. Although much of the book is sad--Melinda's voice seems authentic and the reader aches for her--but parts are also funny, and the ending is upbeat and carries a positive message about how taking action can help not only yourself but others. The edition I got from the library was the 10th Anniversary Edition, which included a poem constructed from letters and emails Anderson received from readers as well as some thoughts from Anderson on censorship. She is more understanding than I:
"Most of the censorship I see is fear-driven. I respect that. The world is a very scary place. It is a terrifying place in which to raise children, and in particular, teenagers. It is human nature to nurture and protect children as they grow into adulthood. But censoring books that deal with difficult, adolescent issues does not protect anybody. Quite the opposite. It leaves kids in darkness and makes them vulnerable.
"Censorship is the child of fear and the father of ignorance. Our children cannot afford to have the truth of the world withheld from them. They need us to be brave enough to give them great books so they can learn how to grow up into the men and women we want them to be."
Absolutely think teenagers and their parents and teachers should read this book.
Nonfiction
My friend Carolyn loved The Boys in the Boat: Nine Americans and Their Epic Quest for Gold at the 1936 Berlin Olympics so much she recommended it in her Christmas letter a couple of years ago. Although it took me a long time to get to Daniel James Brown's book, once I did I really enjoyed it. I knew NOTHING about rowing, but Brown does such a great job, I actually got totally engaged in his descriptions of the crew's workouts and competitions. But the real heart of the book is the story of the "boys" from the University of Washington who made up the victorious team, particularly Joe Rantz, who got the author interested in the story; the UW team members were from middle class and lower middle class families, many hard hit by the Depression, little resembling my stereotype of crew as practiced at the elite schools of the East Coast. I was amazed at how popular rowing was as a spectator sport, one that was broadcast over the radio--who knew? The author also does a great job detailing Germany's successful plans to use the games as a propaganda opportunity while hiding the atrocities already occurring there. Given the extent to which Avery Brundage was complicit in this propaganda effort, I'm amazed he continued to hold high office in the U.S. and International Olympic Committees after the war--and into the 1970s!!
Braiding Sweetgrass: Indigenous Wisdom, Scientific Knowledge and the Teaching of the Plants was written by a botany professor, member of the Citizen Potawatomi Nation, poet, and mother, Robin Wall Kimmerer. I don't think I will capture it's essence, but it's an examination of how the two ways of knowing represented by science and the wisdom of people who learn by engaging deeply with the world around them (over generations) are both complementary and contradictory. Kimmerer makes a case that in order for life on earth to be sustainable given the current challenges, we must move away from the culture of commodification to a recognition that humans have a reciprocal relationship with the rest of the living world. She makes this case through stories from her own life and teaching, explorations of indigenous wisdom, and scientific research she and her students have done with a view toward exploring those reciprocal relationships. It's deep and inspiring, but I feel like it was almost too much to process. I think I should probably have read it over a period of time, spending time with each chapter or, perhaps even better, choosing a couple of chapters and digging deeply into them with other readers.
Favorite Passages
Today it strikes Bird as unbearably sad, to pass by and leave no trace of your existence.
The world was on fire, you might as well burn bright.
Because telling you what really happened would be espousing un-American views, and we certainly wouldn't want that. [Yes, some of the book rings almost unbearably true of our current situation.]
--Celeste Ng, Our Missing Hearts
. . . I take it [War and Peace] with me whenever I have to travel, hoping that one day I'll understand it. POr at least understand why Leo Tolstoy had wanted to gift the world with a mostly boring novel of over a thousand pages. It's still a mystery to me, and I keep hoping I'll come upon some gem-like insight that will explain it.
--Marcia Muller, Ice and Stone
They were now representatives of something much larger than themselves--a way of life, a shared set of values. Liberty was perhaps the most fundamental of those values. But the things that held them together--trust in each other, mutual respect, humility, fair play, watching out for one another--those were also part of what America meant to all of them.
--Daniel James Brown, The Boys in the Boat
Philosophers call this state of isolation and disconnection "species loneliness"--a deep, unnamed sadness stemming from estrangement from the rest of Creation, from the loss of relationship. As our human dominance of the world has grown, we have become more isolated, more lonely when we can no longer call out to our neighbors.
--Robin Wall Kimmerer, Braiding Sweetgrass [I could reproduce a lot more passages, but I've already gone a bit overboard]
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