Addendum:
Finished on February 17, 2019
New Rating: 4/5 (Very Good)
After posting this "Looking Back" entry, I decided it was finally time to re-read Albom's book. I began reading and was quickly drawn into the narrative, remembering bits and pieces, but not so much that I was bored or impatient with the writing. It was as fresh and inspiring as the first time I read it in 1998. It's a quick read, easily finished in a day, but I took my time, both savoring Morrie's aphorisms and Mitch's thoughts and reactions to his friend's decline.
The last class of my old professor's life took place once a week in his house, by a window in the study where he could watch a small hibiscus plant shed its pink leaves. The class met on Tuesdays. It began after breakfast. The subject was The Meaning of Life. It was taught from experience.
No grades were given, but there were oral exams each week. You were expected to respond to questions, and you were expected to pose questions of your own. You were also required to perform physical tasks now and then, such as lifting the professor's head to a comfortable spot on the pillow or placing his glasses on the bridge of his nose. Kissing him good-bye earned you extra credit.
No books were required, yet many topics were covered, including love, work, community, family, aging, forgiveness, and, finally, death. The last lecture was brief, only a few words.
On Death & Dying:
How can you ever be prepared to die?
"Do what the Buddhists do. Every day, have a little bird on your shoulder that asks, 'Is today the day? Am I ready? Am I doing all I need to do? Am I being the person I want to be?'"
I thoroughly enjoyed this experience of re-reading Mitch Albom's book. I did find that I was preparing myself for the heartbreaking finale and was surprised that I didn't shed a single tear. Since reading this back in 1998, I have lost three very close family members, so maybe I am now better equipped to handle the tragic details of death and dying. Or maybe knowing the outcome softened the blow.
Looking Back... In an effort to transfer my book journal entries over to this blog, I'm going to attempt to post (in chronological order) an entry every Friday. I may or may not add extra commentary to what I jotted down in these journals.
Tuesdays with Morrie: An Old Man, a Young Man and Life's Greatest Lesson by Mitch Albom
Nonfiction
1997 Doubleday
Finished in March 1998
Rating: 5/5 (Excellent)
Publisher's Blurb:
Maybe it was a grandparent, or a teacher or a colleague. Someone older, patient and wise, who understood you when you were young and searching, and gave you sound advice to help you make your way through it.
For Mitch Albom, that person was Morrie Schwartz, his college professor from nearly twenty years ago.
Maybe, like Mitch, you lost track of this mentor as you made your way, and the insights faded. Wouldn't you like to see that person again, ask the bigger questions that still haunt you, receive wisdom for your busy life today the way you once did when you were younger?
Mitch Albom had that second chance. He rediscovered Morrie in the last months of the older man's life. Knowing he was dying Morrie visited with Mitch in his study every Tuesday, just as they used to back in college. Their rekindled relationship turned into one final 'class': lessons in how to live.
Tuesdays with Morrie is a magical chronicle of their time together, through which Mitch shares Morrie's last gift with the world.
My Original Notes (1998):
Awesome book. Moving without being maudlin. Introspective. Wonderful words of wisdom from a tremendously brave old man. Courageous. Inspirational. A great gift book. I cried like a baby when I finished. Sobbed!
My Current Thoughts:
I remember when I read this book and how the ending gutted me. I've had it on my shelf for over 20 years and have never read it a second time. I did later read Albom's popular novel, The Five People You Meet in Heaven, and didn't care for it at all, so I wonder if I'll still like this biography about Morrie. Guess it's worth a try.
Eleanor and Hick: The Love Affair that Shaped a First Lady by Susan Quinn
Biography
2016 Penguin Audio
Read by Kimberly Farr
13 hours and 44 minutes
Finished on February 25, 2017
Rating: 3/5 (Good)
Publisher's Blurb:
A warm, intimate account of the love between Eleanor Roosevelt and reporter Lorena Hickok - a relationship that, over more than three decades, transformed both women's lives and empowered them to play significant roles in one of the most tumultuous periods in American history.
In 1932, as her husband assumed the presidency, Eleanor Roosevelt entered the claustrophobic, duty-bound existence of the first lady with dread. By that time she had put her deep disappointment in her marriage behind her and developed an independent life - now threatened by the public role she would be forced to play. A lifeline came to her in the form of a feisty campaign reporter for the Associated Press: Lorena Hickok. Over the next 30 years, until Eleanor's death, the two women carried on an extraordinary relationship: They were, at different points, lovers, confidantes, professional advisors, and caring friends.
They couldn't have been more different. Eleanor had been raised in one of the nation's most powerful political families and was introduced to society as a debutante before marrying her distant cousin, Franklin. Hick, as she was known, had grown up poor in rural South Dakota and worked as a servant girl after she escaped an abusive home, eventually becoming one of the most respected reporters at the AP. Her admiration drew the buttoned-up Eleanor out of her shell, and the two quickly fell in love. For the next 13 years, Hick had her own room at the White House, next door to the first lady.
These fiercely compassionate women inspired each other to right the wrongs of the turbulent era in which they lived. During the Depression Hick reported from the nation's poorest areas for the WPA, and Eleanor used these reports to lobby her husband for New Deal programs. Hick encouraged Eleanor to turn their frequent letters into her popular and long-lasting syndicated column "My Day" and to befriend the female journalists who became her champions. When Eleanor's tenure as first lady ended with FDR's death, Hick pushed her to continue to use her popularity for good - advice Eleanor took by leading the UN's postwar Human Rights Commission. At every turn the bond these women shared was grounded in their determination to better their troubled world.
Deeply researched and told with great warmth, Eleanor and Hick is a vivid portrait of love and a revealing look at how an unlikely romance influenced some of the most consequential years in American history.
I've always been fascinated with Eleanor Roosevelt's life story and thought this new biography might give a little more personal (and honest) insight into her life, as well as that of Lorena Hickok. My husband and I watched The Roosevelts: An Intimate History (a wonderful Ken Burns' documentary) and after reading Quinn's biography on Eleanor, I'm inclined to watch the program a second time. My mind wandered a little bit while listening to this audio book, and overall I liked it, but it probably would have been better to read the print edition.
Maus I: A Survivor's Tale: My Father Bleeds History
by Art Spiegelman
Nonfiction - Graphic Memoir
1986 Pantheon
Winner of the 1992 Pulitzer Prize
Finished on 6/13/09
Rating: 3.5/5 (Good)
Publisher's Blurb:
Maus is the story of Vladek Spiegelman, a Jewish survivor of Hitler's Europe, and his son, a cartoonist who tries to come to terms with his father, his father's terrifying story, and History itself. Its form, the cartoon (the Nazis are cats, the Jews mice), succeeds perfectly in shocking us out of any lingering sense of familiarity with the events described, approaching, as it does, the unspeakable through the diminutive. It is, as the New York Times Book Review has commented, "a remarkable feat of documentary detail and novelistic vividness...an unfolding literary event."
Moving back and forth from Poland to Rego Park, New York, Maus tells two powerful stories: The first is Spiegelman's father's account of how he and his wife survived Hitler's Europe, a harrowing tale filled with countless brushes with death, improbable escapes, and the terror of confinement and betrayal. The second is the author's tortured relationship with his aging father as they try to lead a normal life of minor arguments and passing visits against a backdrop of history too large to pacify. At all levels, this is the ultimate survivor's tale--and that, too, of the children who somehow survive even the survivors.
Part I of Maus takes Spiegelman's parents to the gates of Auschwitz and him to the edge of despair. Put aside all your preconceptions. These cats and mice are not Tom and Jerry, but something quite different. This is a new kind of literature.
It's been years since I first heard about this book and I'm glad I finally got around to getting a copy to read. I've never read a graphic novel (although that's a misnomer for this work, as it's not fiction but rather a memoir), so I wasn't sure what to expect. Would the cartoons distract me? Would they minimize the horrors of the Holocaust? Surprisingly, I found I didn't spend too much time looking at the drawings and wondered if this was common or if a true graphic novel demands more attention to the artwork. And I certainly didn't think this form of narrative did anything to minimize the severity of the story. If anything, its impact might actually have been enhanced, rather than minimized, by the fact that it's such a horrible story told in a medium normally reserved for more innocent, child-like pursuits.
Maus is a deeply moving story, especially knowing it's Spiegelman's father's true history. In spite of the subject matter, I enjoyed this compelling book (as well as one can enjoy such a tragic tale) and I look forward to reading Maus II: A Survivor's Tale: And Here My Troubles Began
.
Go here to listen to an excellent NPR interview with Art Spiegelman.
