Book Review: One True Thing

After reading Anna Quindlen’s How Reading Changed my Life, I knew I’d found a writer whose style was a rare treasure.  So, after a couple commenters clued me into her most favorite novel, One True Thing, I checked it out to explore her fiction.  And I’m happy to report that her fiction is just as fabulous as her prose (not always the case, you know).

I didn’t bother to read the back cover material, so I didn’t realize the book was about dying.  I probably wouldn’t have chosen it for a summer read if I’d have known that.  But I’m happy that I read it in ignorance because it was well worth it, even in the summertime.

Ellen Gulden is a successful career woman, living the single life in the city, when she learns that her mother is dying of cancer.  Ellen’s mother has always been a Martha Stewart type, a bedrock of the home, capable and resourceful, always making the home a happy and warm place.  And now, she needs Ellen to nurse her through her final days.  And Ellen’s father, the tenured English professor, distances himself from the women and buries himself in his career.  Ellen rebuilds her relationship with her mother, learns to focus on someone other than herself, and also struggles to gain acceptance from her cool and remote father.

So, while the book is technically about dying, it’s about a lot more.  For me, it was mostly about the relationship between a mother and a daughter, about the generational gap, and about finally growing up.  And for a book that marches onward toward death, it’s surprisingly joyful and light.  But we have Ellen’s mother to thank for that.

I appreciate Quindlen’s thoughtful prose.  She’s very reflective, something she draws from her nonfiction and journalistic training, no doubt, and her fiction is better for it.  I also love the literature references woven into her book.  Her love for books continually comes across in her writing, whether she’s explicitly referencing them or not.

Book Review: Wives and Daugters

 Ah, the joys of diving into a long Victorian novel.  I splurged, as I must on occasion, and read Elizabeth Gaskell’s romantic novel Wives and Daughters.  At 644 pages, it was a bit of a sacrifice for my book a week reading goal, but it was well worth the effort.

I’ve never read anything by Gaskell before, so I was excited to meet a new female Victorian writer, hoping that I’d find a new author to read en masse.  And, thank goodness, I wasn’t disappointed.

Wives and Daughters has a slower pace than Jane Austen and the Bronte sisters’ books.  I compare it more with George Elliot’s work in its concern with character development and particularly the importance of the relationships between the characters.  In this book, as the title suggests, the relationships in focus are those of daughters (step-daughters, to be precise), step-mothers, and wives. 

Molly Gibson is the fresh faced, doe eyed main character, who is almost TOO good.  I admit, I had a hard time believing how good she was, just like Beth in Little Women…a little too good.  But in Alcott’s book, Beth isn’t the main character. Rebellious and badly behaved Joe is the main character, so Beth’s goodness is a little easier to take.  Same goes for Pride and Prejudice.  Jane is a little too good as well, but we have Lizzy to make it all even.But, Molly’s strength lies in her faithfulness and devotion to those she loves.  She’s not out to impress anyone, and she’s genuine.  Those are certainly amiable qualities.

Molly lives with her widowed father, the local doctor.  I loved all the details about country medicine, so that was a wonderful surprise in the book.  Molly has that Heidi-like country freshness about her.  She and her father are thick as thieves, and Molly roams wild about the countryside.

The plot gets going when Molly’s father decides to marry, mainly for Molly’s sake.  The woman he chooses is good on paper, but in reality, isn’t necessarily the best choice.  Clare is selfish and bossy and much more immature than the girl she is supposed to be raising, an irony that Gaskill continually points out.

Of course, there are love interests, in the form of Roger Hamley, a member of the wealthy landowning class, far removed from Molly’s prospect in marriage.  But, of course, there are 600 pages worth of experiences that throw these lovebirds in each other’s way, with the complication that Roger falls in love with Clare’s daughter (Molly’s stepsister) Cynthia. 

Imagine my surprise when I got to the end of the book to find it uncompleted.  Gaskill died before she finished it, and nobody bothered to tell me this.  I suppose I could have learned it if I’d have bothered to read the introduction, but sometimes, those spoil the endings. 

Other editions have added alternate endings.  And we pretty much know where the story is going.  Gaskill has wrapped up most of the plot lines.

However, that was a new experience for me, one that I’m not sure I want to repeat unawares.  I accidentally woke Dan up with my protestations when I was up late finishing the book and came upon that “ending.” 

Don’t let that dissuade you from reading the book though, especially if there’s one with the completed ending.  I also hear that there are some good BBC versions out there, for those of you who enjoy watching period dramas.  I’m assuming that the BBC added an ending to avoid annoying their viewers.

Pomp and Circumstance

by clevercupacakes from Flickr

I’ve worn my share of caps and gowns.  First there was high school.  Then, three days later, there was junior college (long story).  Then, there was undergrad at Westmont College, 3 years after that.  And finally, there was my master’s at the University of Vermont, in 2005.  And oh, it was nice to know that I was done wearing caps and gowns for awhile.  It wasn’t so much the graduations that bothered me, it was all that work leading up to them that was the problem.

But then there’s my husband, Dr. Dan, who seems to wear a new one every couple years.  I wish we could recycle the things, but at least he’s getting a nice collection of them for Halloween costumes or wall art (a.k.a. Edward Cullen’s, “We matriculate a lot.”). 

Awhile ago, we were trying to figure out the Seattle bus schedule, and neither of us could understand it.  Finally, Dan said, “Between the two of us, we have a bazillion years of education.  We should be able to figure out this thing.”  But we never did.  We drive everywhere.

This week, he’s adding another diploma to his wall, and we’re praying that it’ll be his last one for a very long time.  He’ll finish his residency, which has been three years of hard work, taxing beyond anything I’ve ever seen anyone go through.  I thought med school was tough.  And before that, I thought college was tough.  And before that, I thought junior high was tough (notice the glaring omission there?).  But nothing prepared us for what we were going to go through in residency. 

Sure, Dan was the one pulling the long hours at the hospital.  But we very much consider this a team effort.  Somebody had to pay the bills, pack his lunches, clean the blood (not his) off his clothes, and prop him up long enough to poke food in him when he came home after his second 30 hour shift in a week.

I’m wondering how in the world single people manage to make it through residency?  Okay, and maybe I’m congratulating myself a little bit for surviving as well.  Because this is my graduation, too.

Marriage is a team effort.  And your spouse’s successes are your successes.  His failures are your failures.  It’s not a popular notion, especially when the wife is the one at home, doing the domestic duties that are the less glorified “behind the scenes” work.  But they’re important.  God knows the job is important.  And my husband knows it too.

One of the greatest compliments I’ve received during Dan’s residency was when one of his female colleagues told Dan that she wanted “a wife” (she’s not a lesbian, so THAT’S not what she was talking about).  But by serving my husband, I’ve ministered to others, well beyond the four walls of my home. 

 So when Dan gets his diploma this week, I’ll be earning a piece of it as well.  If it were my own name written on it, I couldn’t be more content.  We both accomplished this, the whole way through, starting on that second day of college when we met.  And I plan on seeing him through the rest of his goals, which hopefully don’t include any more school and graduations.  I need a break!

Book Review: Housekeeping

I’ve been looking forward to reading Housekeeping for a long time, but I’ve held off reading it because it was a rare jewel, one that couldn’t be replaced anytime soon. 

Marilynne Robinson doesn’t write novels very often.  But when she does, the world takes notice.  Her first novel, Housekeeping, earned her a Pen/Hemingway Award, and her second, Gilead, won the Pulitzer.  I reviewed her most recent book, Home, and you can read my thoughts on it here.  Home was a finalist for the National Book Award, which is a pretty decent award as well.

Housekeeping was published in 1980, and the world had to wait 24 years for her next book.  But maybe it takes that long to write a book that wins the Pulitzer.  Thankfully, Home came along only four years later, because I’m not sure I could hold out another quarter century. 

Housekeeping is a deceptively short book.  Of course, I forgot my own statement: “Even though they are very short books, they’ll likely take you longer than most Victorian novels to read.”  And I picked it up a couple days before my book group met to discuss it.  At 219 pages, with such a “domestic” topic, it looks lightweight.  But that’s part of Robinson’s charm.  She takes what is simple and makes it complex.  She shows you the depth of everyday things, the complexity and the sacredness of the ordinary. 

The plot is very simple.  Two orphaned girls live with their grandmother, until their grandmother dies.  Two elderly, spinster great aunts take up housekeeping to watch over the girls, but then leave the girls under the care of their aunt (their mother’s sister), who is mentally unbalanced and a transient.

At its most basic level, the story is about different women, taking care of a home, and what it means to live in a place and “keep up appearances.”  But of course, with Robinson, the story is about so much more.  Housekeeping is about memory, about coping, about sanity, and sanctity. 

The Biblical allusions are brief, but they also offer some of the most powerful metaphors in the story.  Robinson teases us with deep theological questions, rooted in everyday circumstances.  Read the book quickly, skim, and you miss these profound inquires.

The language also sets the book apart from many others.  Each sentence is carefully crafted, as is the case with all her books, so as to seem almost poetic and very purposeful.  And when the characters are struggling with sanity, the style mirrors their mental shifts as well.

So even though I’m sad to have completed all of Robinson’s novels, I’m excited to pick them up again and find all the hidden treasures that I missed the first time through.  I’ve found that each reading brings out many new insights, the hallmark of a book with a lot of rewards to offer.

If I recommend any books that you’d like to purchase, consider buying them through Amazon using the links on my site, so I get a percentage of the purchase price back to buy more books to review!

Wii Fit, the Venus de Milo, and God’s Standard of Beauty

For my birthday, I got a Wii Fit, which has been on my gift request list for awhile (so Dan isn’t in the doghouse for getting me exercise equipment as a present).    I’m enjoying the workouts and games, but one unexpected downside is that every day, the thing weighs me and tells me my BMI and whether I’ve gained or lost weight.  While some might think the checkups are a nice addition to their entertainment system, I rank them down there with water boarding.

Having a less than satisfactory BMI, and getting reminded (nagged) about it each day, the Wii Fit has become the “Wii Downer.”  The little animated trainer on the screen shouts encouragements, but more often than not, she’s also telling me that I’m unbalanced, needing work, and other lovely, less than flattering sentiments.

I’ve been studying a lot of art lately, and I’m getting a lot of mixed messages.  On one hand, I have my nagging, annoyingly svelte, Wii Fit trainer, telling me to trim down, and on the other hand, thousands of years of classical art is telling me “big is beautiful” (okay, so that’s a modern paraphrase).

I’d like to give you a little historical tour de beauty, as depicted by Venus, the “goddess” of beauty, through the medium of art. I’m going to make the photos optional (if your kiddos are around, I don’t want to introduce the birds and the bees conversations sooner than you’d prefer it to happen).  

22k B.C.  Venus of Willendorf

The roundest example of them all, the “venus” of Willendorf is a fertility symbol and as the nickname implies, quite possibly a symbol of physical beauty to the ancient culture that crafted her.

100 B.C. Venus de Milo

We’ll forgive her for not having arms.  I’d like to see what the Wii Fit says about her BMI, being that she’s made of stone! But seriously, she is a little scrawnier than the others. Those Greeks must not feed their gods very well.

1614 A.D. Toilet of Venus by Rubens

Venus doesn’t seem very self conscious at all.  In fact, she seems rather pleased with her appearance.  Can she do that?

1916 A.D. Venus Victorious by Rodin

A 20^th century Venus, still ample and lovely.

And today, 2009, we have my spandex laden, scrawny as can be, Wii fit trainer, telling me that I’m not up to snuff.

Okay, here’s what I’m not saying.  I’m not saying that I’m going to forget about physical fitness and the importance of maintaining a healthy weight (which may or may not be represented by that “all encompassing” BMI).  But I am saying that I can’t let my self worth and my sense of beauty get dragged down by our culture’s current obsession with a particular body type.

As evidenced by classical art, standards of beauty change.  I can’t constantly feel sorry for myself that I wasn’t born in the 1600s (even though I’d love to meet Milton and Bunyan, but that’s another story).

Instead, I need to look to God’s standard of beauty, which is more about my heart (Proverbs 31 and 1 Timothy 2:9) and less about my BMI.

Book Review and Freebie Drawing: Sisterchicks in Wooden Shoes

I admit, I’m not a big fan of current Christian fiction.  Typically, these books don’t offer the quality that the secular market does, and I’m often turned off by the sappy, oversimplified spirituality that’s presented in them.  But I keep trying, hoping that I’ll find Christian authors, writing for the Christian market, who hearken back to their creative roots. With such artistic forefathers as John Milton, John Bunyan, C.S. Lewis, and J.R. Tolkien, I want Christian writers to embrace that noble heritage of great writing.  Sadly, I’m not seeing it, but I’ll keep looking.

So when I review books in the Christian market, I feel like I need to lower the bar a little bit, because that’s what’s happened across the Christian publishing world.  My expectations are down, so I’m not so finicky in my reviews.  I’m torn between wanting to support an industry that I believe still continues to do good, kingdom work, and the urge to call these writers to task, to produce something at a higher standard, one that might potentially cross-over to a secular market.

This is a long preface to a book review, but it’s been awhile since I lamented the current status of Christian fiction.

I read Sisterchicks in Wooden Shoes because I’ve noticed the Sisterchicks series in local Christian bookstores and thought they looked like sweet, escapist reading.  They offered a Christian take on the Ya-Ya Sisterhood books.  I also wanted to read it because it took place in Holland, which is where my family hearkens from.

Technically, I’m 1/2 Dutch.  Dad’s family settled in a small Dutch immigrant community in Washington State, and I grew up with wooden shoes, tulips, and Dutch cocoa.

I’m the girl in the Dutch costume looking like she’s about ready to throw the wooden shoe at the camera-person.

I still have family in The Netherlands, and I visited them with Dan 10 years ago.  So a book about friends touring the Netherlands sounded like a good way to relive some of my happy memories of that experience.

The main character, Summer, is a middle-aged American woman who travels to Holland to meet her longtime pen pal, Noelle, an American who married a Dutch man and has lived in Holland most of her life.  Summer’s trip comes as a spur of the moment decision after getting an abnormal mammogram.  Both women are believers, and their faith is both challenged and strengthened through their experiences together.

The highlights of the book were the Dutch culture, explained through an American perspective.  The travels are fairly cliche, catching all the typical tourist attractions in Holland.  But those who enjoy foreign travel will probably glean some interesting travel oriented information from the book.  If you’re planning a trip to Holland, it might be a decent book to read for an easy cultural preparation.

I also can’t say that I gleaned any deep spiritual insight from the book.  But I wasn’t expecting it.

As long as you’re looking for a simple, clean, very light, whimsical story, this book will work for you.  But don’t ask much more from it.

I haven’t read any of the other Sisterchick books, but it seems like you don’t need to read them in any particular order, as they are all stand alone stories about friendships between women.  You can read the full list of titles on the author’s website.

Finally, as my little birthday gift to you (since today is my birthday), I’m giving away a free copy of this book to one of the people who comment on this post.  I’ll randomly select someone who comments by the end of today (11:59 p.m. P.S.T.) (Update: I’m extending the contest through Sunday, June 14th at 11:59 p.m. P.S.T.). I’ll send it to anybody who comments who also lives in the United States.

Thanks to the folks at MultRandom House for sending me a copies of this book to critique and to give away. To visit their site and learn more about the book and where to purchase it, follow this link.

If I recommend any books that you’d like to purchase, consider buying them through Amazon using the links on my site, so I get a percent of the purchase price back to buy more books to review!

On Turning 30

On Wednesday, I turn 30.  And I’m determined to make this a joyous occasion.

Over the weekend, I celebrated my grandfather’s 80^th birthday with him (we’re 50 years and a week apart), and dozens of his friends and loved ones gathered to celebrate his eight decades on the earth.  When you reach 80, you are thankful for all those years.  But when most women I know reach 30, all they do is complain.

So, I’m going to look ahead towards the day when I get to celebrate my 80^th birthday (God willing), and look at this 30^th as one small stepping stone onto something greater.

Here are a few of my re-framing thoughts to help me gain perspective on Wednesday (and always):

They’re not wrinkles…they’re wisdom lines

Grey hairs aren’t unsightly…they’re a crown of glory (Proverbs 16:31)

Glasses don’t make me look nerdy…they’re a new way to accessorize

I’m not a year closer to dying…I’m a year closer to living, with Jesus, forever.

Physically, I may be weaker…but spiritually, I’m much more sanctified (Romans 6:22).

Anybody else have any re-framing thoughts on growing old?

Favorite Victorian Novels

I’m a sucker for a really long Victorian era novel.  I’d much rather read one of these than 10  modern books, but when you are on a 52 book a year reading plan, as I am, you can only read so many.  So, as I yearn to read more Victorian literature, I’m going to share with you the books that I’d like to be reading right now, instead of the ones I need to be reading, if I ever have the hopes of making it to my resolution goal (don’t worry, I’m not going cold turkey, but I’m just a little more limited than I’d like to be).

You’ll notice there are two fairly glaring omissions: Dickens and Austen.  I happen to dislike Dickens’ writing style because he’s too long winded (probably had something to do with getting paid by the word and publishing serially), but I do like his characters and plots.  He’s a key Victorian author who doesn’t make my list because I’d rather chose another writer who is more economical with his or her words.  Jane Austen isn’t on the list because she isn’t a Victorian author.  This surprises many people. In fact, she’s a Regency era writer, pre-dating the Victorians.

1. Middlemarch by George Eliot

Eliot is easily my favorite Victorian writer. What a mind.  I don’t know why she thought she could fool people into thinking that she was a man, though.  Her style is clearly feminine.  She has an uncanny ability to create many interweaving storylines.  But sometimes, it can be a challenge to keep all her characters straight.

2. Jane Eyre by Charlotte Brontë

The Bronte sisters are essential contributors to Victorian literature, and this is my favorite book among their treasures.  They bring Gothic romance to the mix. (I have to keep myself from listing only George Eliot and Bronte books as my favorites for the sake of some variety here.)

3. Dracula by Braham Stoker

Now here’s a departure from the other books, even though it’s strongly in the Gothic tradition.  I like that it’s an epistolary novel (told in letter form), which was a common technique in that era.  Jane Austen first wrote Sense and Sensibility that way, before she revised it to its current format.  There’s also something exciting about reading the most famous and first of all the vampire stories.

4. The Warden by Anthony Trollope

I don’t know why people don’t read Trollope anymore.  He’s really got a lot of insight into human nature. Witty yet approachable, Trollope’s books are rewarding on many levels.  The Warden is the first book in his famous Chronicles of Barsetshire series, for those who like series.  But he’s one of the most prolific writers in this period, so there’s plenty to read once you get started.

5. The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde

This is a haunting story, but a powerful one for a discussions about sin and its consequences.  Many people read it in high school and forget about it after that.  I encourage you to revisit it as an adult and see what treasures it has to reveal about the human heart.

I’ve got a long list of book reviews, including some that I’ve mentioned in this post.  If you’d like to see all my reviews, visit this link.  And if you like the book lists, you can see all of those here.

If I recommend any books that you’d like to purchase, consider buying them through Amazon using the links on my site, so I get a percent of the purchase price back to buy more books to review!

Book Review: Loving Frank

Honestly, prior to reading Loving Frank, I didn’t know much about Frank Lloyd Wright, nor did I know anything about his love affair with Mamah Borthwick Cheney, the narrator of this story.  Sometimes, it’s nice to go into a book about historical figures, not knowing anything, but it can also give you one heck of a surprise, if you didn’t know what was coming. 

The story takes place beginning around 1907, when Wright and Cheney began their love affair.  Cheney and her husband commissioned Wright to design their family’s home, and somewhere along the way, Wright and Cheney fell for each other.

But it’s not a simple love story.  Back in the early 1900s a married woman didn’t get an easy divorce, and her children often stayed with her husband.  Cheney chose to live with the self-absorbed, highly brilliant but very unreliable Wright, at the cost of losing her two children.

And although she waxed poetic about missing her kids, I only saw that her own narcissism was her greatest drive.  She embraced the early women’s liberation and feminist movements, which certainly had value, including the push for women’s voting and equal employment rights.  But she latched onto feminist Ellen Key’s philosophy, which is elaborated in detail, including a total disregard for the lifelong covenant of marriage.  Interestingly, Cheney turned away from Key when the feminist challenged Cheney on the abandonment of her children.  (Funny how people gravitate towards certain philosophies as long as they are comfortable and stop when they get become inconvenient.)

Neither Wright nor Cheney were particularly compelling for me.  Wright abandoned six children for Cheney, and she rarely saw her two children.  Both were so self-absorbed, they seemed very self-serving, even in relation to one another.  Most of the book is Cheney, alone, reflecting on her woes and trying to figure out her purpose in life.

What is selling this book is Wright’s name coupled with a scandal and a shocking surprise ending, for everyone, like me, who failed to read up on Wright’s history. 

But I’m going to surprise you here by encouraging you to read this book.  I’ve criticized it fairly heavily, but that doesn’t mean it’s not worth a read.  This is a highly popular  book, and people you know are reading it.  I encourage you to learn about Cheney, so you can talk with the people you know who are struggling with these same issues, common ones, of dissatisfaction in their marriage, divorce, and “falling out of love.”  Of course, Cheney and Wright are no exemplars of how to “do it right,” but they are a place to begin a dialogue, a starting place to discuss the alternatives.  How could Jesus have changed this story?  Where does the gospel offer hope, where this story offers so much despair? 

If I recommend any books that you’d like to purchase, consider buying them through Amazon using the links on my site, so I get a percent of the purchase price back to buy more books to review!

Basement Cat’s Humiliation

My all-time most popular post surprisingly isn’t the ABC Satan Face-off Debate notes (but that comes in second).  By far, it’s a little story I told using pictures from the insanely popular ICanHasCheezburger blog.  You can read my “Saga of Ceiling Cat” here.

I’ve been thinking about trying it again, since the first time around, it was such a big hit.  And, I admit, I love that blog.  I guess I have a thing for cute kittens with grammar problems.  But there’s a very familiar story woven into the site, about Ceiling Cat, Basement Cat, and Happy Cat.  You can find the main characters in The Lolcat Bible, which is, believe it or not, a translation of the Bible into lolspeak (kitten language, of course).

This highly apocryphal story is an adaptation of Ceiling Cat lore, using pictures from the ICanHasCheezburger blog.  We’ll just say that this story has some strong similarities with the biblical book of Job, which you can also read about here in the Lolcat Bible, or even better, the ESV Bible.

I call this story “Basement Cat’s Humiliation”

Basement Cat wuz gettin lil 2 overconfident. He wuz 2 huge 4 his litterbox.

But hoo wud put teh powerful Basement Cat in his place?

Teh basement iz scary place for kittehs…

Lotz dat waz scaredy cats…

So Ceiling Cat decided 2 teach Basement Cat lesson.

Basement Cat has serious problem.  He not so scary nomore.

In fact, teh kittehs all wondered if he switchd sidez.

Ceiling Cat gots teh last laugh.

Teh moral ov teh story:  Don’t mess wif Ceiling Cat.

And don’t getz too big for your litterbox.