Books Archives - Page 25 of 53 - A Geography of Reading

Capturing Anomie in City Water Light & Power

March 17, 2014 by Isla McKetta, MFA Leave a Comment

Matt Pine’s first novel City Water Light & Power so clearly captures the experience of living in a modern day city that at times I wasn’t sure I could go on reading it. The basic gist is that friends Jake and Michelle navigate the city of Chicago as it changes and they do. Touching on everything from urban renewal to mental illness, the book provides insight into what creates a lost generation.

Capturing a City (and a Life) in Transition

The central metaphor that pairs the changes in Jake’s and Michelle’s lives to the changes in Jake’s neighborhood is strong. It’s fascinating to read as Jake’s neighborhood bar and everything he loves about the place he is living starts to give way to gentrification while he faces a personal struggle with how he fits in the shiny corporate world. You hope that his chances are better than that of his favorite bar, but it doesn’t seem likely.

Meanwhile, Michelle seems as wrapped up in the opportunities of urban renewal as she is in her developer boyfriend. Wrapped up in, but also succumbing, albeit in a more socially acceptable way.

If you’ve lived in a city and worked too many hours just to pay too much money for the roof over your head and a bunch of trappings you’re not sure you even want, this book will feel familiar.

Reading for Escape

At times, the book felt altogether too familiar. I don’t normally consider myself an escapist reader. Sure, I spend the odd afternoon with Fletch, but usually I’m chasing big ideas from far away. Reading City Water Light & Power made me realize how much emphasis I put on the “far away” in my reading.

I started this book on the bus the morning after the time change. I was running late and feeling frustrated about rushing in to a day that I felt I had no control over. I wanted to meet expectations and be on time, but I wasn’t sure what those expectations were and I wondered where I left mine along the way (or whether 20 minutes really mattered to anyone). As Jake works his soul-crushing job doing QA for a call center, Pine does an excellent job of showing just how hard we’ve all worked to take the meaning straight out of life.

At the same time, Michelle spends much of her time drunk or stoned enough to tolerate her job as a paralegal with a jerk of a boyfriend. There is a glimmer of hope as she gets accepted to law school, but given how much she hates the people she works with, you have to wonder what she’s rushing toward.

Reading about the suffering of others gives me a way to think about the way the world works and how we can all work to improve it. It affords me a macro-level view because I can sympathize while maintaining my own experience. Reading about Jake and Michelle hit too close to home. The book is well written, but I found myself wanting to get away from it before I became mired in self pity.

This might be an excellent read if you have better boundaries with books than I do. It might also be good for a reader of a different generation or from a rural area or even another country who wants to understand why people who seem to have it all are so freaking miserable. But if you’re in the rat race, it will likely hit too close to home.

A book has to be well written to elicit this kind of visceral response in me, but that doesn’t mean that I’m going to read it again soon. Maybe I’ll pick it up when I’m old and retired to see what ever I was whining about.

Passive Characters

Passive characters are a huge no-no in fiction workshops, but it often feels like they abound in modern stories and novels. At a panel I attended at AWP, a professor confronted the idea that passive characters can serve as a political statement–to show how oppressive a situation is. City Water Light & Power definitely wants to fall into this category.

And while this sense of oppression is well portrayed, the passivity (especially of Michelle) was absolutely maddening to me. That must have been the point. But the book did not incite me to revolt against my corporate life or the world around me. And for this passive character as political statement thing to have worked for me, I would have had to come out of the book feeling that rush to change rather than the urge to drink myself into oblivion.

What do you think about passivity as political statement? Did Pine succeed when he made me feel stuck or should the book have done something else? Please share your thoughts in the comments.

Reading Outside My Comfort Zone with Marston Bates

March 9, 2014 by Isla McKetta, MFA 2 Comments

I don’t usually read nonfiction. In fact, it’s the one genre I get snobby about (especially those self-help-type business books that regurgitate info rather than creating anything). I really do have strong feelings about those books. But the rest of nonfiction, for me, simply falls victim to my desire to lose myself in the dream worlds of poetry and fiction. So I have no idea what inspired me to pluck The Forest and the Sea by Marston Bates, but I’m glad I did because it opened me up to a whole world of ideas and helped me see the world from a variety of fresh perspectives.

The Forest and the Sea is a tiny book about just that, the creatures, vegetation, and environment of the forest and the sea. He explains and investigates, in a very accessible way, the parallels and differences between these environs. He also looks into man’s relationship with our environment. I am not certain that this book is a precursor to the environmental movement, but I do see how it could be a rallying cry to create one, even for someone as disengaged with that on a daily basis as me.

The Family Perspective

I actually didn’t even know why I had The Forest and the Sea until I opened the front cover. It’s a tiny little paperback with snails on the cover and it just doesn’t look like something I’d buy or read. So I knew it had either come from my grandmother’s library or my mother’s. In the upper-right corner of the first page was the name “McKetta” in a handwriting that wasn’t quite my grandmother’s but it was definitely not my mom’s. Then I read the dedication and title pages. The book, written in 1960, is dedicated to Bates’ Zoology students at the University of Michigan.

I was holding my father’s textbook. He would have been at Michigan a few years after that, actually, but the coincidence was too great. As I read this book, I felt closer to my dad (who I’m proud to say reads this blog) and found myself considering each bit of knowledge from his point of view. He’s a forest economist by trade and that experience really enriched my reading. It was the next best thing to talking with him about what I was learning

If you have family textbooks available to you, go read one now. It’ll change the way you view all the facts.

The Science Perspective

I was hardly a dumb blonde in school, but somewhere along the line, I started to treat science as this weird other thing that I could never understand. It’s a shame, really, because when my husband turns on Nova, I usually wait for the next day’s summary. I do care. I am interested. But my specialization of knowledge has focused so deeply (especially lately) on the literary that I think I’m limiting myself. The Forest and the Sea opened, in really intelligible language, a whole new world to me and I’m so glad I read it. Because science isn’t jargon or formulas anymore than literature is jargon or sentence diagrams. I just forgot that for a little while.

The Pre-Global Warming Perspective

I do worry about our effect as humans on the environment (as does Bates, especially toward the end of the book) but I sometimes get lost in the political rhetoric around global warming. The whole thing makes me want to disengage. So when Bates writes “We are still living in an ice age,” it is so easy for me to cut through all that noise and pay attention to the science in front of me. He does have an agenda, but he’s relatively transparent about it, and I was so grateful for the chance to engage with what he was saying instead of having to understand then fight a hidden agenda just to understand the truth behind the words.

The Creative Perspective

If you’re like me, you are sick to death of biped aliens in movies with two eyes and maybe, if the creature designer was feeling really creative, four fingers on each hand instead of five. It’s as easy to get stuck in a creative rut as it is in a reading one, but there is so much out there.

When I started reading Bates’ descriptions of how and why undersea creatures and vegetation had developed the way it did (how the wavelengths of light fish have access to changes their coloration and that their eyes are very sensitive or even blind because light isn’t a primary part of their environment) There were about five minutes where I thought I might try to be the next Ursula K. LeGuin. I wanted to go out and design a new world with different constraints and see what creatures developed as a result.

I know there are amazing science fiction writers out there who are way into this stuff (including LeGuin) and I probably won’t be poaching on their territory anytime soon. But it was a relief to start to think of something like creature design in a totally new way for me.

The Perspective of Balance

One of the most exciting parts of this book for me was when Bates started talking about seawater as an equilibrium and how complex that equilibrium is. I loved the idea of the environment balancing itself out and the way he described it, “Materials are constantly being added, but materials are also constantly removed” was so simple and clean that it allowed my brain to take off in all kinds of crazy directions and think about how much I value balance, how I can achieve it, and what that might mean for my work. It reminded me of an amniotic fluid that I could run off and let my work and my life gestate in.

There’s so much else in this book, inter-connectivity, the gorgeous metaphor of the forest being like the sea but on land, and wonderful stories about Bates’ own research. And it’s all completely intelligible to a non-scientist like me. It was a delightful book to read to broaden my knowledge of the world at large.

What I’d love to know about, though, is books you’ve read that have been outside of your comfort zone and how they’ve influenced or changed you as a writer.

Relaxing with a Few of the Best Mystery Novels

February 16, 2014 by Isla McKetta, MFA Leave a Comment

It’s been a busy few months. While I was finalizing Clear Out the Static in Your Attic for Write Bloody Publishing, I found out that Editions Checkpointed wanted to publish Polska, 1994. Wonderful, happy news all around, but it means that I’ve been editing, proofing, creating marketing schedules, and sending/receiving emails pretty much constantly since the middle of December. Did I mention I have a day job? Oh, and at the same time I agreed to write two articles on spec for a really well respected publication.

I’ve been rejected enough to know that when the literary world rains happy acceptances on you, you take them. And I am not complaining. But I am exhausted. I am months behind in my correspondence and I really miss my friends, who, by now, might be wondering if I even remember how to return an email. I do. I will return them all soon. I swear.

But first I needed to recover, and for me recovery always means reading. So this week I took a break from my normal “reading to challenge myself and learn more about writing” routine and picked up all the unread mysteries I could find around the house. It’s been a wonderful experience and I learned some things along the way.

The Plot

Mystery novels are a tradition in my family. My beloved grandmother (I called her Baba) read as much as one whole mystery novel a day. She’d then pass on her favorite Ngaio Marsh, Dick Francis, Agatha Christie, Gregory McDonald, or Lilian Jackson Braun to whomever she thought would love it. February is her month for a lot of reasons–her birthday, the day she passed away in 2011 and then her memorial service. It’s also a quiet but potent month with all the activity of a full month packed into a little space. Anyway, it feels like a good time to be near her memory and to read books she would have loved.

The Suspects

The books I’ve read this week are Avalanche by Patrick F. McManus because my dad used to read us McManus stories when I was a kid, Murdock Cracks Ice by Robert J. Ray because it’s set in Seattle and I know and like the author, and The Vanishing Smile by Earl Emerson because my dad likes him.

A Lovable PI

What I’ve learned from these books is that you need a lovable PI as your protagonist. I know this is not universally true for mysteries, but it’s a good start. He’s usually an ex-cop. Actually, I think Bo Tully in Avalanche is still a cop. I read these books really fast so details… The cop/PI angle is part of what talked me out of writing my own mystery series. I did consider it for a few minutes while reading these books–partly because they are a lot of fun to read and partly because I think they have a better chance of affording me that dream of living off my writing that’s been tugging at my heart so hard lately. He’s usually a man. Again, lots of writers have flipped this, but lots of them haven’t. He’s also usually a little rough around the edges–like he needs you to love him or cook him a good dinner.

Dames

Speaking of love, there’s always a love interest or story of some sort. This is actually my favorite part of most of these books. The love interests are usually a little more on the ball than the PI (especially Kathy in The Vanishing Smile) and I like that too. The characters aren’t terrifically well-rounded, but they are human enough and the days of a tomato with a great pair of pins are mercifully over. I’m fine with a great-looking woman, but not if that’s all she is.

The Stiff

I think the real art in a mystery novel seems to be in bringing to life (haha) the murder victim. These characters are invariably dead by the time we first hear of them (or will be in a page or two), but the reader’s engagement hinges on how well the character is, um, reanimated. In Avalanche, we come to hate Mike Wilson. The victim in Murdock Cracks Ice is wonderfully complex which really adds to the plot and subplots, and Marian Wright in The Vanishing Smile was on a mission that only gets more interesting the more we learn about it.

The Setting

I do love reading books about places I don’t know. But when it comes to a mystery, a good part of the charm for me is reading about places I do know. In the past I have been thrilled to read about the Cascade Mountains in Mary Daheim’s novels and about a familiar restaurant on Eastlake in GM Ford’s novels. In the case of Murdock Cracks Ice Bob Ray actually mentioned a restaurant I ate at about a week ago. Swoon.
The setting is definitely part of the character in these books. I don’t think I’ve ever loved one where the city it’s set in didn’t come alive.

Action, Action, Action

I actually skim over a lot of the action. Another reason why I can’t write mysteries. When Thomas Black gets attacked by a man in the dark of his driveway in The Vanishing Smile, I skim ahead to make sure it works out okay. No offense to the writers, but I think that “all will soon be right with the world” feeling is part of the allure of a good mystery. I trust the writers to get me there. I don’t need all of the details.

The Underworld

Reading these books this week, I learned about misappropriation of funds, the meth industry, and the tangled web of HIV infection. It’s fun to step away from my normal world and go someplace darker without any of the actual risk. It’s like the classes I took in Criminology without the tests at the end.

The Doer

I actually don’t care at all about the villain or who the real murderer is. That’s just one more reason I shouldn’t write mysteries. It’s also one of the reasons I can read them over and over and over. I like guessing along the way as the writer throws suspects at me. I like being fooled a little. And, like I said, I have no idea who killed any of the people in any of the books I just read.

Okay, so you can see that I wasn’t able to actually put down my “reading like a writer” glasses. Except for the parts about me skimming rapidly through the bits I can’t relate to. But I had a great time slipping into the genre and it did make me feel closer to Baba. Maybe the best part of this week is that these mystery novels are helping me reconnect with loved ones. I gave some of the mysteries I finished this week to my dad and to a dear friend who’d had dinner with me in one of the locales.

I won’t be writing mysteries anytime soon. I just don’t have the knack for action. But if you want to connect with someone who is, my friend Icess Fernandez is currently writing her own mystery series and blogging about it.

The wonderfully busy times aren’t over yet. I’ll be reading the night before AWP at 7pm at Ravenna Third Place Books. And I’ll be moderating a panel at AWP on February 27 called “Four Ways Blogging Benefits a Writer.” If you’re coming to the conference, we’re up first thing in the morning in room 604.

I hope you’re enjoying the long weekend. If you have a chance, I’d love to hear about the books you read to relax or if you have a favorite mystery writer I should put on my list.

The Foreign and the Familiar in Crescent by Diana Abu-Jaber

February 9, 2014 by Isla McKetta, MFA 2 Comments

I avoided reading Crescent by Diana Abu-Jaber for almost a year. It looked too thick for my purse or the back matter was too fluffy for my mood. When I finally picked up the book, I realized what I’d been missing all this time. And although I lost myself in the story of Sirine and Han so much that I barely annotated the book, it was impossible to ignore how well-crafted this novel is.

The Observer Between Worlds

Abu-Jaber sets up the perfect observer of cultures in Sirine, a half-Iraqi, half-American chef living in California with her Iraq-born uncle. Sirine barely knew her parents when they died and although she used to cook “American” food, she feels herself drawn back into Iraqi side of her heritage. It’s the perfect setup for a reader to explore it with her. Sirine has the natural curiosity because of the allure of tracing one’s ancestry, and even if you were never interested in Arab culture in general, her interest is contagious.

And then Abu-Jaber puts Sirine in the perfect place to observe culture–cooking at an Arab cafe near a university. Some of the characters Sirine sees on a daily basis are people she might have interacted with through her uncle who is also a professor at the university, but putting Sirine in front of them on her own terms makes her form her own relationships with characters like professor Aziz, American Nathan who photographed Iraq years ago, and the brilliant Han who will so haunt Sirine that a love match is inevitable.

“Trying to translate Hemingway into Arabic is like trying to translate a bird into a river.” – Diana Abu-Jaber, Crescent

Although many of the predominant characters in this book are male (besides Sirine), there’s also a wonderful world of rich female characters like Um-Nadia and Rana. They may be less pushy about getting themselves included in the narrative, but the lessons they impart are equally important.

Conflict and Tension

Sirine’s attraction to Han is so strong that it seems inevitable they will get together. And when they do, it is not at all disappointing. But I was so invested in their relationship that as it went on and started to grow (Abu-Jaber does amazing things with anticipation), I remembered that happy relationships don’t make for good fiction. I knew the writing was too good to just dissolve into happy fun times, but I also really wanted Sirine and Han to ride off into the sunset. I won’t spoil what happens. I will say that their relationship is handled very well and nothing in it feels at all arbitrary. I kind of want to go read it again now…

Setting the Stakes

Remember the old adage, “Those who don’t remember the past are doomed to repeat it”? The best novels put that to use by laying out hints of the moral or the pattern that the character will repeat over and over until he or she learns what is necessary to escape that ring of hell and advance. Throw in a little of Chekhov’s gun (everything in the story must be necessary to the telling of it) and you have a gripping story where the reader has all the tools to get deeply rooted in the protagonist’s struggles. All of this makes for damned compelling fiction that’s hard to put down.

Abu-Jaber does a beautiful job setting these stakes for Sirine and laying out the necessary elements of telling the story. I won’t tell you here what main struggles I think Sirine is trying to overcome (for me there were two, maybe three) because part of the joy of a good book is finding the ones you personally identify with–it makes your bond with the character stronger. But I will say that Abu-Jaber doesn’t waste one element in her storytelling and I really appreciated that.

One of the reasons I think my first book was a novella is that I knew I had to be in control of all those elements and I didn’t have the tools yet to do that on a large scale. I only hope I can someday write something that merits 400 pages like Abu-Jaber has done with Crescent.

Food Porn

“There’s time for baklava if they make it together.

She hunts in the big drawer for another apron, shows him where to stand, how to pick up the sheet of filo dough from its edge, the careful, precise unpeeling, the quick movement from the folded sheets to the tray, and finally, the positioning on top of the tray. He watches everything closely, asks no questions, and then aligns the next pastry sheet perfectly. She paints the dough with clarified butter. And while Sirine has never known how to dance, always stiffening and trying to lead while her partner murmurs relax, relax–and while there are very few people who know how to cook and move with her in the kitchen–it seems that she and Han know how to make baklava together.” – Diana Abu-Jaber, Crescent

One of the ways this book dances along the romance or chick lit line is Abu-Jaber’s lush descriptions of making and eating foods. That statement sounds pejorative, but as much as I liked the Sirine and Han storyline, this food porn might be what I remember longest from the book. I actually had to run to my favorite Turkish restaurant in Pioneer Square during the Seahawks’ Super Bowl victory parade (no mean feat in such a crowd) to get a taste of the reality. And when I came home to the lentil stew my husband had lovingly prepared…

Food is sustenance and as such it’s often ignored in books. That’s fine. But I’m finding that there’s this genre of books that helps us understand foreign cultures through their foods (Like Water for Chocolate is an early example). Maybe because eating is so universal that it’s something we can all relate to–it makes a good entry point into a new culture. I know when I was writing Polska, 1994 that food was a very important part of the book for me because I remembered how important the act of making and the act of eating were. Maybe it’s the very fact that as an American in a city I can have anything I want any time I want it (even when surrounded by 700,000 people chanting fans) that makes me crave this elemental look at nourishment. Oh, and some of the scenes where Sirine and Han cook together are pretty hot.

I don’t feel like I know a lot more facts about Iraqi culture than I did before I read Crescent but I do understand more of the nuance and the book made me hungry (on many levels) to explore more. It’s a beautiful book and an easy read. I wish I hadn’t let it sit on the shelf as long as I did.

If this review made you hungry to read Diana Abu-Jaber, pick up a copy of Crescent from Bookshop.org. Your purchase keeps indie booksellers in business and I receive a commission.

Lost in The End of the Story by Liliana Heker

February 2, 2014 by Isla McKetta, MFA Leave a Comment

Some books are so important that if you care at all about understanding the history of a place, you have to read them. The End of the Story by Liliana Heker is one of those books. And although the book is gorgeously written, it is not an easy read. If you’re interested in Latin America or stories of how people rise up against tyranny, read it anyway–it’s worth it.

Revealing History

I asked for a review copy of this book because it’s about a time in Argentinian history that I desperately want to know more about–the Dirty War. When I visited the country in the mid 1980’s, their political turmoil had settled down compared to Chile’s. But I’ve always felt that by understanding what happened in Argentina, I would understand more of what was happening in Chile while I was there and who I was because of it. Still, my investigations have been limited to watching movies like La Historia Oficial which is about a woman who starts to wonder what really happened to the parents of her adoptive daughter.

Heker doesn’t flinch as she tells the story of Leonora’s abduction in Buenos Aires and what it was like for Leonora as one of the desaparecidos–locked in a dungeon and tortured. What makes the book even more interesting is the narration of Diana Glass, a writer and friend of Leonora’s who clearly idolizes her.

Telling it Slant

“Diana feels she has reached something, the end of the beginning, she thinks, a moment of supreme hope or supreme beauty from which all paths radiate to change the world.” – Liliana Heker

But Leonora is a human, not necessarily a heroine. I’m going to reveal a few spoilers here, so skip to the next section if you don’t want to know. I loved how Heker took all of Leonora’s ideals and intellectual curiosity and used them to turn her character 180 degrees from where we expect her to be.

Although there are plenty of clues that she will become the lover of one of her torturers, it still hits you in the gut. But it also seems natural. Some have written that she does so to save her daughter, but I think that’s a cop out. I strongly believe that Leonora used her grand IQ to find empathy for the enemy. And as the book unfolded, I couldn’t blame her for it. As much as I disliked her decision, the writing is good enough to make the decision seem weighty and wrought as opposed to flighty and self-serving.

That said, many could blame her for it and there was apparently much discussion when this book came out in Argentina because people felt it betrayed the revolutionary spirit. Read an essay by the translator, Andrea G. Labinger, for more insight on that. As much as I loved Isabel Allende’s Of Love and Shadows, Leonora is no Irene Beltrán and I liked The End of the Story better for her complexity.

Framing a Story

“‘The story I wanted to tell ends, it always ended, in that first chapter. Because the awaited woman will never fight, never wanted to fight, the same revolution as the one who awaited her hoped for.'” – Liliana Heker

Heker accomplishes a stunning feat of framing this story as though it begins and ends in the same place. She plays with Diana’s nearsightedness in a way that could be a cloying metaphor and yet isn’t. The writing is beautiful and subtle. There is a depth in the way the stories of Diana and Leonora converge that I haven’t quite processed yet, but it did make me turn from the last page back to the first and start reading again.

Lost in Time

“The late October afternoon when Diana ran into Professor Ordaz, the word disappeared had not just become limited in scope.” – Liliana Heker

But I didn’t start reading over again just because I loved the book. I also started reading the book over again because I’d spent a majority of the book trying to parse out where exactly I was in time. As Heker’s scenes drifted between 1971 and 1976, I kept wishing I knew more details of the history because I was honestly lost. I tried writing the year in the margins but kept finding myself lost. There were some markers–like budding trees–that should have made finding my place in time easier, but because the seasons in South America are reversed from those in North America, I only found myself more confused by the mention of October.

When I eventually gave up trying to understand when what was happening, I liked the book better for it. Because the ethical and moral complexities are rich enough on their own. I didn’t need things that felt like “facts” because they were only a distraction from the deep exploration of human behavior under stress. And really, in the best of ways, there is nothing simple about this book.

If you can surrender to being lost in time (or if you’re a more meticulous reader than I), you must read this book. It will challenge what you think you know about yourself and your politics and you will be richer for it. I know I am.

If this review made you want to read the book, pick up a copy of The End of the Story from Bookshop.org. Your purchase keeps indie booksellers in business and I receive a commission.