Unbroken

Unbroken: A World War II Story of Survival, Resilience, and Redemption by Laura Hillenbrand
Nonfiction
2010 Random House Audio; Unabridged Edition
Reader: Edward Herrmann
Finished 5/17/11
Rating: 3.5/5 (Good)



Product Description

On a May afternoon in 1943, an Army Air Forces bomber crashed into the Pacific Ocean and disappeared, leaving only a spray of debris and a slick of oil, gasoline, and blood. Then, on the ocean surface, a face appeared. It was that of a young lieutenant, the plane’s bombardier, who was struggling to a life raft and pulling himself aboard. So began one of the most extraordinary odysseys of the Second World War.

The lieutenant’s name was Louis Zamperini. In boyhood, he’d been a cunning and incorrigible delinquent, breaking into houses, brawling, and fleeing his home to ride the rails. As a teenager, he had channeled his defiance into running, discovering a prodigious talent that had carried him to the Berlin Olympics and within sight of the four-minute mile. But when war had come, the athlete had become an airman, embarking on a journey that led to his doomed flight, a tiny raft, and a drift into the unknown.

Ahead of Zamperini lay thousands of miles of open ocean, leaping sharks, a foundering raft, thirst and starvation, enemy aircraft, and, beyond, a trial even greater. Driven to the limits of endurance, Zamperini would answer desperation with ingenuity; suffering with hope, resolve, and humor; brutality with rebellion. His fate, whether triumph or tragedy, would be suspended on the fraying wire of his will.

In her long-awaited new book, Laura Hillenbrand writes with the same rich and vivid narrative voice she displayed in Seabiscuit. Telling an unforgettable story of a man’s journey into extremity, Unbroken is a testament to the resilience of the human mind, body, and spirit.

I tend to read more fiction than nonfiction, but after hearing such high praise for Hillenbrand’s latest book, I decided to give it a try. Listening to the audio version worked out well, since I tend to read history books with a highlighter in hand, studying the book rather than simply reading for enjoyment. I have no complaints about the reader (Edward Herrmann), but there were several instances in which I felt the story was beginning to sound repetitious and drawn out. I began to get impatient for Zamperini’s rescue from the POW camps and, had I been reading the book rather than listening to the audio version, I’m not sure if I would have bothered to finish. And yet one sentence has remained with me since I finished listening to the book. After relating his entire saga to a journalist, Louie said, “If I knew I had to go through those experiences again” he finally said, “I’d kill myself.” And who could blame him? War alone must be the most terrifying for those fighting for their countries. But then to be lost at sea for 47 days, fighting off sharks and watching as the enemy approaches, strafing the raft with gunfire, followed by capture and a horrific experience in a Japanese POW camp, in which starvation, beatings and torture (under the watch of the sadistic Corp. Mutsuhiro Watanabe) were routine experiences, it’s a wonder he and his fellow POWs didn’t commit suicide. I’m pretty sure at that point, I would’ve been beyond broken!

I read Seabiscuit back in 2002 and while I enjoyed parts of it, I wasn’t terribly impressed, giving it a somewhat average rating of 6/10. Judging from the reviews for both Seabiscuit and Unbroken, I’m in the minority.

The Elegance of the Hedgehog

The Elegance of the Hedgehog by Muriel Barbery
Translated from the French by Alison Anderson
Fiction
Audio version: HighBridge Company, Unabridged (2009)
Readers: Barbara Rosenblat and Cassandra Morris
Finished on 4/28/11
Rating: 4.5/5 (Terrific!)



Madame Michel has the elegance of the hedgehog: on the outside, she’s covered in quills, a real fortress, but my gut feeling is that on the inside, she has the same simple refinement as the hedgehog: a deceptively indolent little creature, fiercely solitary—and terribly elegant.



Publisher’s Blurb:

We are in an elegant hotel particulier in the center of Paris. Renée, the building’s concierge, is short, ugly, and plump. She has bunions on her feet. She is cantankerous and addicted to television soaps. Her only genuine attachment is to her cat, Leo. In short, she is everything society expects from a concierge at a bourgeois building in a posh Parisian neighborhood. But Renée has a secret: she is a ferocious autodidact who furtively devours art, philosophy, music, and Japanese culture. With biting humor she scrutinizes the lives of the building’s tenants—her inferiors in every way except that of material wealth.

Then there’s Paloma, a super-smart twelve-year-old and the youngest daughter of the Josses, who live on the fifth floor. Talented, precocious, and startling lucid, she has come to terms with life’s seeming futility and has decided to end her own on the day of her thirteenth birthday. Until then she will continue hiding her extraordinary intelligence behind a mask of mediocrity, acting the part of an average pre-teen high on pop subculture, a good but not an outstanding student, an obedient if obstinate daughter.

Paloma and Renée hide both their true talents and their finest quality from a world they suspect cannot or will not appreciate them. They discover their kindred souls when a new tenant arrives, a wealthy Japanese man named Ozu. He befriends Paloma and is able to see through Renée’s timeworn disguise to the mysterious event that has haunted her since childhood. This is a moving, witty, and redemptive novel that exalts the quiet victories of the inconspicuous among us.

One of the things I love most about my job as a book seller is chatting about my favorite books with customers and co-workers. Occasionally, I meet someone who shares my taste in books and offers their recommendations to me. Such was the case with The Elegance of the Hedgehog. The customer was so enthusiastic about the novel that I promptly bought a copy.

That was three years ago.

Even after the book was nominated for our local One Book, One Lincoln read, I wasn’t inspired to pick it up. It wasn’t until I came upon the audio edition that I decided it was time to give it a try. I’m so glad I did, as it turned out to be an excellent novel. I thoroughly enjoyed the alternating voices, performed so well by Barbara Rosenblat (Renée) and Cassandra Morris (Paloma). And, it’s probably a good thing I decided to listen rather than read. There are a few philosophical passages that became a bit tedious, even while listening, and I can guarantee you that I would’ve have wound up heaving the book at a wall if I’d been reading it. Apparently, Publishers Weekly noted this, as well:

This audio version of the surprise French bestseller hits the mark as both performance and story. The leisurely pace of the novel, which explores the upstairs-downstairs goings-on of a posh Parisian apartment building, lends itself well to audio, and those who might have been tempted to skip through the novel's more laborious philosophical passages (the author is a professor of philosophy) will savor these ruminations when read aloud. Tony Award–winning actress Barbara Rosenblat positively embodies the concierge, Renée Michel, who deliberately hides her radiant intelligence from the upper-crust residents of 7 rue de Grenelle, and the performance of Cassandra Morris as the precocious girl who recognizes Renée as a kindred spirit is nothing short of a revelation. Morris's voice, inflection and timbre all conspire to make the performance entirely believable.

With that said, I still plan to re-read the printed version someday. This is a charming novel that made me both laugh and cry. I wonder if the film will have the same effect. So much of the narrative is focused on the internal thoughts of Renée and Paloma and I wonder how (or if) the producer is able to capture their quirky personalities.

Paloma on grammar:

“What’s the point of grammar?” asked Achille Grand-Fernet. “You ought to know by now,” replied Madame Never-mind-that-I-am-paid-to-teach-you. “Well I don’t,” replied Achille, sincerely for once, “no one ever bothered to explain it to us.” Madame Fine let out a long sigh, of the “do I really have to put up with such stupid questions” variety, and said, “The point is to make us speak and write well.”

I thought I would have a heart attack there and then. I have never heard anything so grossly inept. And by that, I don’t mean it’s wrong, just that it is grossly inept. To tell a group of adolescents who already know how to speak and write that that is the purpose of grammar is like telling someone that they need to read a history of toilets through the ages in order to pee and poop. It is utterly devoid of meaning! If she had shown us some concrete examples of things we need to know about language in order to use it properly, well, okay, why not, that would be a start. She could tell us, for example, that knowing how to conjugate a verb in all its tenses helps you avoid making the kind of major mistakes that would put you to shame at a dinner party (“I would of came to the party earlier but I tooked the wrong road”). Or, for example, that to write a proper invitation in English to a little divertissement at the chateau of Versailles, knowing the rules governing spelling and the use of apostrophes in la langue de Shakespeare can come in very useful: it would save you from embarrassment such as: “Deer friend, may we have the pleasure of you’re company at Versaille’s this evening? The Marquise de Grand-Fernet.” But if Madame Fine thinks that’s all grammar is for… We already know how to use and conjugate a verb long before we knew it was a verb. And even if knowing can help, I still don’t think it’s something decisive.

Personally I think that grammar is a way to attain beauty. When you speak, or read, or write, you can tell if you’ve said or read or written a fine sentence. You can recognize a well-turned phrase or an elegant style. But when you are applying the rules of grammar skillfully, you ascend to another level of the beauty of language. When you use grammar you peel back the layers, to see how it is all put together, see it quite naked, in a way. And that’s where it becomes wonderful, because you say to yourself, “Look how well-made this is, how well-constructed it is! How solid and ingenious, rich and subtle!” I get completely carried away just knowing there are words of all different natures, and that you have to know them in order to be able to infer their potential usage and compatibility. I find there is nothing more beautiful, for example, than the very basic components of language, nouns and verbs. When you’ve grasped this, you’ve grasped the core of any statement. It’s magnificent, don’t you think? Nouns, verbs…

Renée on reading:

I have read so many books…

And yet, like most autodidacts, I am never quite sure of what I have gained from them. There are days when I feel I have been able to grasp all there is to know in one single gaze, as if invisible branches suddenly spring out of nowhere, weaving together all the disparate strands of my readings—and then suddenly the meaning escapes, the essence evaporates, and no matter how often I reread the same lines, they seem to flee ever further with each subsequent reading, and I see myself as some mad old fool who thinks her stomach is full because she’s been attentively reading the menu. Apparently this combination of ability and blindness is a symptom exclusive to the autodidact. Deprived of the steady guiding hand that any good education provides, the autodidact possesses nonetheless the gift of freedom and conciseness of thought, where official discourse would put up barriers and prohibit adventure.

As much as I enjoyed the audio version of The Elegance of the Hedgehog, I’m very anxious to actually read Barbery’s Gourmet Rhapsody. A friend loaned me his copy… three years ago!

If I haven’t convinced you to read this book, perhaps NPR’s praise will help:

Despite the topic of suicide and many philosophical ponderings, the Renée and Paloma’s narrations are delightfully colorful, idealistic and witty. They are written as if the two are communicating with us in personal journals, speaking with confessional intimacy. The author uses these lovable characters to express enduring messages about assumptions we make that distort relationships… These are the very things you will find in this engaging story that ends surprisingly but with a final message of what life is about. It includes the music of Satie, despair and beauty, and an ‘always’ within ‘never.’ (NPR’s Day to Day)

Go here to view a trailer for the film and here to read more about the cast.

Go here to read Wendy's excellent review for the novel over at Caribousmom.

Major Pettigrew's Last Stand

Major Pettigrew's Last Stand by Helen Simonson
Fiction
2010 Random House Audio, Unabridged Edition
Reader: Peter Altschuler
Finished on 4/23/11
Rating: 4/5 (Very Good)




When depicted by the right storyteller, the thrill of falling in love is funnier and sweeter at 60 than at 16…With her crisp wit and gentle insight, Simonson is still far from her golden years…but somehow in her first novel she already knows just what delicious disruption romance can introduce to a well-settled life. –Washington Post


Product Description

You are about to travel to Edgecombe St. Mary, a small village in the English countryside filled with rolling hills, thatched cottages, and a cast of characters both hilariously original and as familiar as the members of your own family. Among them is Major Ernest Pettigrew (retired), the unlikely hero of Helen Simonson's wondrous debut. Wry, courtly, opinionated, and completely endearing, Major Pettigrew is one of the most indelible characters in contemporary fiction, and from the very first page of this remarkable novel he will steal your heart.

The Major leads a quiet life valuing the proper things that Englishmen have lived by for generations: honor, duty, decorum, and a properly brewed cup of tea. But then his brother's death sparks an unexpected friendship with Mrs. Jasmina Ali, the Pakistani shopkeeper from the village. Drawn together by their shared love of literature and the loss of their respective spouses, the Major and Mrs. Ali soon find their friendship blossoming into something more. But village society insists on embracing him as the quintessential local and her as the permanent foreigner. Can their relationship survive the risks one takes when pursuing happiness in the face of culture and tradition?

My mom is a voracious reader, which makes gift-giving very easy for me. Her birthday and Mother’s Day fall within the same week and I typically give her the latest best-seller along with a few other treats. Unfortunately, I have a terrible memory and can’t always remember what I’ve given her! However, I’m fairly certain I gave her a copy of Major Pettigrew's Last Stand last May since I do remember that she was visiting the week after Mother’s Day and I have a vivid memory of her sitting on our sofa, laughing out loud as she read while I was busy fixing dinner. I value my mom’s opinion, so when she told me that she loved Helen Simonson’s debut novel, I knew I could recommend it to customers in spite of the fact that I hadn’t had a chance to read it myself. And so I did. For almost an entire year, when customers came to me asking for a book that they could give to their aunt or mother-in-law or neighbor, I handed them a copy of Major Pettigrew’s Last Stand with complete confidence that it was just the perfect gift. And now that I’ve listened to the audio version of the book, I am quite certain that those recipients were just as pleased with their gifts as my mother was.

In a word, Major Pettigrew's Last Stand is charming. Reminiscent of The Guernsey Literary Potato Peel Pie Society and Mr. Rosenblum Dreams in English, it’s a delightful book with memorable characters that spring to life, particularly in the audio version, thanks to the marvelous reader, Peter Altschuler. I quickly envisioned The Major (Ernest) as Lyle (Geoffery Palmer) in As Time Goes By. I also pictured Ernest’s son, Roger, as Alistair (Philip Bretherton), also in As Time Goes By.

While slightly slow to start, I wound up loving this gentle novel. So much so that I’d like to own my own copy for a future reread. I’d also love to see someone make a movie of it. I know just the cast!

Final thoughts: Highly enjoyable and I hope there’s a sequel!

From AudioFile:

… Narrator Peter Altschuler is stuffy, gruff, and completely endearing as the Major wrestles with his grief over losing his brother, his conflicted responses to his clueless son, his covetousness for a pair of valuable guns, and his unexpected feelings for his neighbor, Mrs. Jasmina Ali. Helen Simonson's droll comments on family, religion, small-town small-mindedness, and intercultural romance combined with Altschuler's wry, amusing performance transports listeners directly into the English countryside.

Be sure to visit Nan and Bellezza's blogs for their most exceptional reviews of this lovely book.

Unplugged

Not that I post with any regularity, but I thought I should let y'all know that I'm going to be unplugged for the holiday weekend. We're off to Colorado (Red Feather Lakes) and won't have access to the Internet until Wednesday morning. This is always a rough weekend for us, so it will be nice to get away with some good friends. If the weather cooperates, we'll go for long hikes (just us and the bears & mountain lions!), cook delicious meals, play board games, and drink lots of wine. Hmmm, at 9,000 feet, maybe I should be careful with the wine...

I'll be back next week with several book reviews. April and May were good reading months.

I hope everyone has a relaxing (and safe) holiday weekend!

Once Upon a Time, There Was You

Once Upon a Time, There Was You by Elizabeth Berg
Fiction
2011 Random House
Finished 4/22/11
Rating: 2.5/5 (Average)



Product Description

From the beloved New York Times bestselling author of Home Safe and The Last Time I Saw You comes a beautiful and moving novel about a man and woman, long divorced, who rediscover the power of love and family in the midst of an unthinkable crisis.

Even on their wedding day, John and Irene sensed that they were about to make a mistake. Years later, divorced, dating other people, and living in different parts of the country, they seem to have nothing in common—nothing except the most important person in each of their lives: Sadie, their spirited eighteen-year-old daughter. Feeling smothered by Irene and distanced from John, Sadie is growing more and more attached to her new boyfriend, Ron. When tragedy strikes, Irene and John come together to support the daughter they love so dearly. What takes longer is to remember how they really feel about each other.

Elizabeth Berg has once again created characters who embody the many shades of the human spirit. Reading Berg’s fiction allows us to reflect on our deepest emotions, and her gifts as a writer make Once Upon a Time, There Was You a wonderful novel about the power of love, the unshakeable bonds of family, and the beauty of second chances.


Elizabeth Berg is one of the few authors I’ve continued to read for decades. Yes, decades. I first read Talk Before Sleep back in the ‘90s and since then, I’ve read almost every single one of her novels, typically the week it’s published. Her most recent books have either fallen flat or left me craving something a bit more substantial, but I keep going back, trying the latest release, hoping for something like her earlier works. Something that gives me the feeling that she’s peeked into my life and written about my thoughts and feelings. Something that describes a meal that makes my mouth water or tugs at my heartstrings, bringing a lump to my throat. Something like what Erica Bauermeister, Lisa Genova, Marisa de los Santos or Anna Quindlen have done recently with their novels. Unfortunately, this is not the case with Once Upon a Time, There Was You.

Once Upon a Time, There Was You is quite a departure from Berg’s previous novels. There’s a strong element of suspense and mystery, which I enjoyed, and the pages flew, making for a quick read. But once again, I was disappointed, wishing for something more.

Oh, dear. Perhaps I’ve outgrown Ms. Berg.

I’ve come to a point where I borrow rather than buy her novels, and I wonder if I’ll get to the point where I give up completely and simply read her blog (which is lovely and reminiscent of her earlier writing style). After five years, I know I have a difficult time writing a fresh book review, so I can imagine how tough it must be to keep writing entertaining novels.

So, I keep hoping and remain optimistic that the next book will be just the one to once again win me over.

Booklist says:

An enchanting and empathic storyteller, Berg delights in the eccentricities that shape complex personalities and excels in decoding the chemistry and paradoxes of relationships. She is also an avid appreciator of the pleasures of food, funny and assuring on the subject of age, and an advocate for kindness. All these elements are at work in her latest comedy of marriage. . . . All is droll and intriguing until Berg swerves, briefly, into the realm of terror, thus dramatically deepening questions about fear, love, family, and what one makes of one’s life. Berg’s tender and wise novels are oases in a harsh world.

Hmm, I’m not so sure I saw the comedy of marriage in this recent work.

I wrote the following in my last review for a book by Berg:

While lacking substance and peopled with forgettable characters, I still managed to zip through this fluffy read in a day or so. With 20 novels under her belt, perhaps it's time to take a break.

I could have written the exact same words for this new novel.

Hmmm.

Joy for Beginners

Joy For Beginners by Erica Bauermeister
Fiction
2011 G.P. Putnam’s Sons
Finished on 2/27/11
Rating: 4.5/5 (Terrific!)
FTC Disclosure: Received ARC via publicity agent
Available on June 9, 2011



Promise me you'll always remember: You're braver than you believe, and stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think.
~ Christopher Robin to Pooh”

Publisher’s Blurb:

At an intimate, festive dinner party in Seattle, six women gather to celebrate their friend Kate’s recovery from cancer. Wineglass in hand, Kate strikes a bargain with them: to celebrate her new lease on life, she’ll do the one thing that’s always terrified her: white-water rafting. But if she goes, all of them will also do something they always swore they’d never do—and Kate is going to choose their adventures.

Shimmering with warmth, wit, and insight, Joy for Beginners is a celebration of life; unexpected, lyrical, and deeply satisfying.

The other night, as we were driving home from a lovely evening spent with new friends, my husband and I began chatting about our community and our circle of friends. We’ve lived in Lincoln since 1992 (with a brief stint in Texas in the late ‘90s) and have lived on an acreage just outside of the city limits, as well as in town in a lovely old neighborhood where front porches, hundred-year-old trees and a corner market (where one can still sign for groceries and receive a monthly bill!) are commonplace. We have friends that we met that very first year, thanks to our daughter’s outgoing nature on and off the soccer field, folks we’ve met through both of our jobs, and friends we were introduced to by mutual friends. When we moved back to Lincoln in 2000, we were amazed to meet well over a dozen people in our beautiful new neighborhood even as the movers unloaded our possessions into our new home. Some of those neighbors have since moved away, but all the new folks have been just as friendly and neighborly as their predecessors.

And so our circle of friends continues to widen. We gather for coffee and scones at a neighborhood café on Saturday mornings. We host progressive dinner parties and cookouts or meet up at our favorite restaurants. We discuss books, play board games, float in pools, play tennis, ride bikes, or shoot guns (!) with these friends. We support their children’s fundraising ventures, rub their dogs’ bellies, watch out for their homes when they go out of town, and admire their gardens.

We rejoice over births, graduations, marriages, job promotions, and new puppies.

And, we comfort each other through divorces, illnesses and deaths.

We are very blessed to know the friends we’ve met (both in person and via the Internet) over the years. They have brought us joy, filled us with laughter, held us when we needed to cry, and taught us how to be better friends ourselves.

Joy For Beginners is a book about the loyalty and love of friends, about taking risks and believing in oneself, and about being present in one’s life.

Stephanie Kallos (Sing Them Home) writes, “This book is a joy to read. Bauermeister gives us characters who revel in the best of what life has to offer—loving relationships, fine food, good books, and travel—and she writes with keen observance and a wry wit.”

My copy of Joy for Beginners is littered with dozens of Post-It flags, but I’ve decided to let you discover those passages on your own. Well, maybe I'll share just one...

It was almost midnight. The tables were cluttered with napkins and used silverware, tablecloths rumpled like bed-sheets. The diners reclined in their chairs, hands drifting leisurely back and forth between espresso cups and the last sips of port. Tips of fingers caressed the surface of white plates, snaring the last flakes of chocolate left from cinnamon-dusted truffles. Smells lingered in the air, sliding across bare shoulders, nestling into the curls of hair—risotto and chanterelle mushrooms, sweet and rich and buttery, the bite of Parmesan, the rosemary and white wine and garlic of a slow-cooked pork roast. And bread, of course, the long loaves having been passed hand to hand, chunks pulled off, dipped in small white dishes of green olive oil with dark, molten drops of balsamic vinegar floating in its midst. Wine bottles had long ago lost their ownership, traveling up and down the tables like porters on a train. Artists had met book dealers had met plumbers had met research scientists, people getting up between courses and changing places. Over in the corner, a couple was forming, their heads bending slowly toward each other like candles melting.

I read this novel almost three months ago and I have been so eager to share it with all of you. I was tempted to read it in one sitting, but enjoyed it so much, and not wanting to see it end, set it aside for an entire week before returning to read the final chapter. I loved Erica’s first novel, The School of Essential Ingredients, and Joy for Beginners is just as beautifully written, peopled with characters you’ll wish you had in your own circle of friends.

Final thoughts: I can think of a few challenges for some of my friends, but I wonder what challenge my friends would give me? Tattoo? Sky-diving?

The Life and Times of the Thunderbolt Kid

The Life and Times of the Thunderbolt Kid: A Memoir by Bill Bryson
Nonfiction – Memoir
2006 Random House Audio, Unabridged Edition
Read by the author
Finished on 4/13/11
Rating: 3.5/5 (Enjoyable)



Product Description

From one of the most beloved and bestselling authors in the English language, a vivid, nostalgic, and utterly hilarious memoir of growing up in the 1950s

Bill Bryson was born in the middle of the American century—1951—in the middle of the United States—Des Moines, Iowa—in the middle of the largest generation in American history—the baby boomers. As one of the best and funniest writers alive, he is perfectly positioned to mine his memories of a totally all-American childhood for 24-carat memoir gold. Like millions of his generational peers, Bill Bryson grew up with a rich fantasy life as a superhero. In his case, he ran around his house and neighborhood with an old football jersey with a thunderbolt on it and a towel about his neck that served as his cape, leaping tall buildings in a single bound and vanquishing awful evildoers (and morons)—in his head—as "The Thunderbolt Kid."

Using this persona as a springboard, Bill Bryson re-creates the life of his family and his native city in the 1950s in all its transcendent normality—a life at once completely familiar to us all and as far away and unreachable as another galaxy. It was, he reminds us, a happy time, when automobiles and televisions and appliances (not to mention nuclear weapons) grew larger and more numerous with each passing year, and DDT, cigarettes, and the fallout from atmospheric testing were considered harmless or even good for you. He brings us into the life of his loving but eccentric family, including affectionate portraits of his father, a gifted sportswriter for the local paper and dedicated practitioner of isometric exercises, and of his mother, whose job as the home furnishing editor for the same paper left her little time for practicing the domestic arts at home. The many readers of Bill Bryson’s earlier classic, A Walk in the Woods, will greet the reappearance in these pages of the immortal Stephen Katz, seen hijacking literally boxcar loads of beer. He is joined in the Bryson gallery of immortal characters by the demonically clever Willoughby brothers, who apply their scientific skills and can-do attitude to gleefully destructive ends.

Warm and laugh-out-loud funny, and full of his inimitable, pitch-perfect observations, The Life and Times of the Thunderbolt Kid is as wondrous a book as Bill Bryson has ever written. It will enchant anyone who has ever been young.

Last summer I attended my 30th high school reunion. This year I’ll turn 50. So, maybe it’s no wonder that I’m beginning to look back on my youth with wistful longing for what seems from this vantage point a more simple and carefree time. I was born in 1961, but in spite of the age difference, I could certainly appreciate Bryson’s memoir describing growing up in the ‘50s.

I can’t imagine there has ever been a more gratifying time or place to be alive than America in the 1950s. No country had ever known such prosperity. When the war ended the United States had $26 billion worth of factories that hadn’t existed before the war, $140 billion in savings and war bonds just waiting to be spent, no bomb damage, and practically no competition. All that American companies had to do was stop making tanks and battleships and start making Buicks and Frigidaires—and boy did they.

No wonder people were happy. Suddenly they were able to have things they had never dreamed of having, and they couldn’t believe their luck. There was, too, a wonderful simplicity of desire. It was the last time that people would be thrilled to own a toaster or waffle iron. If you bought a major appliance, you invited the neighbors around to have a look at it.

America in 1951 had a population of 150 million, slightly more than half as much as today, no interstate highways, and only about a quarter as many cars. Men wore hats and ties almost everywhere. Women prepared every meal more or less from scratch. Milk came in bottles. The mailman came on foot. Total government spending was $50 billion a year, compared with $2.5 trillion now.

I Love Lucy made its television debut on October 15, and Roy Rogers, the singing cowboy, followed in December. In Oak Ridge, Tennessee, that autumn police seized a youth on suspicion of possessing narcotics when he was found with some suspicious brown powder, but he was released when it was shown that it was a new product called instant coffee. Also new, or not quite yet invented, were ballpoint pens, fast foods, TV dinners, electric can openers, shopping malls, freeways, supermarkets, suburban sprawl, domestic air-conditioning, power steering, automatic transmissions, contact lenses, credit cards, tape recorders, garbage disposals, dishwashers, long-playing records, portable record players, baseball teams west of St. Louis, and the hydrogen bomb. Microwave ovens were available, but weighed seven hundred pounds. Jet travel, Velcro, transistor radios, and computers smaller than a small building were all still some years off.

After reading one of Bryson’s books (A Walk in the Woods) and listening to this and one other (I'm a Stranger Here Myself), I have to say I prefer the audio books. He’s a delightful reader and I zipped through all six discs in no time. I found myself chuckling here and there, but I wouldn’t say that this book is laugh-out-loud funny. As a matter of fact, there were times when the narrative was actually pretty silly. The historical aspects of the memoir were informative and enlightening, but the tales of Bryson’s childhood superhero persona ("The Thunderbolt Kid") were distracting and seemed contrived.

Nostalgic, yet not overly sentimental, The Life and Times of the Thunderbolt Kid is definitely a worthwhile read. Do yourself a favor, though, and listen to the audio. You’ll appreciate hearing Bryson narrate his own childhood vignettes and if you’re a Baby Boomer, more than likely you’ll find yourself nodding your head in agreement. I know I did, especially as I listened to him recall TV dinners, Dick & Jane books, and electric football, all of which I also remember, though dimly!

Coming Attractions

Joy For Beginners
by Erica Bauermeister
Coming June 9, 2011

Advance Praise for Joy For Beginners:


“Moving, touching, wonderfully written; inspiring to read.”
–Garth Stein, author of The Art of Racing in the Rain

“A literary confirmation of the power of friendship.”
–Carol Cassella, author of Oxygen

“This book is a joy to read. Bauermeister gives us characters who revel in the best of what life has to offer--loving relationships, fine food, good books, and travel--and she writes with keen observance and a wry wit.”
–Stephanie Kallos, author of Broken for You

“A warm and elegant portrayal of what makes women, well, women: strength, succor, healing, forgiveness, and ultimately, connection.”
–Jennie Shortridge, author of When She Flew
Erica Bauermeister is the author of the national bestseller The School of Essential Ingredients. Click here to read my review.

Click here to pre-order Joy for Beginners.

Snow Flower and the Secret Fan

Snow Flower and the Secret Fan by Lisa See
Fiction
2005 Random House
Finished 4/11/11
Rating: 2.5/5 (Fair)





Publisher’s Blurb:

In nineteenth-century China, in a remote Hunan country, a girl named Lily, at the tender age of seven, is paired with a laotong, or “old same,” in an emotional match that will last a lifetime. The laotong, Snow Flower, introduces herself by sending Lily a silk fan on which she has written a poem in nu shu, a unique language that Chinese women created in order to communicate in secret, away from the influence of men. As the years pass, Lily and Snow Flower send messages on the fan and compose stories on handkerchiefs, reaching out of isolation to share their hopes, dreams, and accomplishments. They both endure the agony of footbinding and together reflect upon their arranged marriages, shared loneliness, and the joys and tragedies of motherhood. The two find solace, developing a bond that keeps their spirits alive. But when a misunderstanding arises, their deep friendship suddenly threatens to tear apart.

This is the first time I’ve read a book in three different formats: print, digital and audio. I began with the paperback edition (which I’d had on my shelf for several years), but hit a slump about halfway through. I wanted to finish the book, but couldn’t stay interested. I don’t need a lot of dialogue to maintain interest in a book, but the descriptive nature of this novel made it a slow, plodding experience. However, just as I was ready to call it quits, I wound up manning the Nook desk at work. Between customers, I was able to read a couple more chapters on a Nook and was pulled back into the story. Later that night, having just finished my current audio book, I decided to download the audio version of Snow Flower and the Secret Fan and wound up listening to a large portion on my Nano. Gotta love technology!

On the tradition of footbinding:

Mama and Aunt resumed their pre-binding activities, making more bandages. They fed us red-bean dumplings, to help soften our bones to the consistency of a dumpling and inspire us to achieve a size for our feet that would be no larger than a dumpling. In the days leading up to our binding, many women in our village came to visit us in the upstairs chamber. Elder Sister’s sworn sisters wished us luck, brought us more sweets, and congratulated us on our official entry into womanhood. Sounds of celebration filled our room. Everyone was happy, singing, laughing, talking. Now I know there were many things no one said. (No one said I could die. It wasn’t until I moved to my husband’s home that my mother-in-law told me that one out of ten girls died from footbinding, not only in our country but across the whole of China.)

All I knew was that footbinding would make me more marriageable and therefore bring me closer to the greatest love and greatest joy in a woman’s life—a son. To that end, my goal was to achieve a pair of perfectly bound feet with seven distinct attributes: They should be small, narrow, straight, pointed, and arched, yet still fragrant and soft in texture. Of these requirements, length is most important. Seven centimeters—about the length of a thumb—is the ideal. Shape comes next. A perfect foot should be shaped like the bud of a lotus. It should be full and round at the heel, come to a point at the front, with all weight borne by the big toe alone. This means that the toes and arch of the foot must be broken and bent under to meet the heel. Finally, the cleft formed by the forefoot and heel should be deep enough to hide a large cash piece perpendicularly within its folds. If I could attain all that, happiness would be my reward.

Ow!!

On the laotong relationship:

“A laotong match is as significant as a good marriage,” Aunt might say to begin the conversation. She would repeat many of the matchmaker’s arguments, but she always came back to the one element she viewed as most important. “A laotong relationship is made by choice for the purpose of emotional companionship and eternal fidelity. A marriage is not made by choice and has only one purpose—to have sons.”

I’m glad I stuck with the book, if only to be able to discuss the plot and characters with customers (and to see what all the fuss was with regard to the footbinding), but it failed to live up to the hype I’ve been hearing for the past five years. If I decide to continue with the Peony in Love, I think I’ll listen to the audio version since I find See’s writing a bit long-winded.

I also think this is going to be a rare instance in which the movie is better than the book. I’m looking forward to seeing the film this summer! Click here to watch a trailer.



See what one of my favorite bloggers had to say about (over 4 years ago!):

What I enjoyed the most is how the author, Lisa See, delved into relationships. She showed us mother/daughter relationships, husband/wife relationships, friendships, and the clash between the rich and the poor. I also loved reading of China, with its food, silks, and landscape. I highly recommend this book. (Bellezza, of Dolce Bellezza)

Be sure to click on Bellezza's link to read her full review of Lisa See's novel.

Wordless Wednesday

Or... How I Spent My Day Off.

Cranberry Ginger Scone
The. Best. Americano in Lincoln, Nebraska!
Caffé Italia

Music Monday

So Beautiful or So What

You know life is what you make of it
So beautiful or so what…

I grew up in a household in which my parents listened to what we all thought was very hip music. Carole King, Jim Croce, Chicago, Cat Stevens, Carley Simon, Don McLean, Bob Dylan and, of course, Kris Kristofferson. It was not uncommon to hear Paul and Art crooning about bridges, boxers and bookends for months on end. Maybe even years. I loved the way their voices melded together and made me sing along, feelin' groovy. But I also enjoyed their solo albums equally. I bought Art's Breakaway back in the '70s (I Only Have Eyes for You was played at my first wedding), but it was Paul's There Goes Rhymin' Simon that made me realize he was my favorite of the duo. I'm immediately taken back to my childhood when I hear Kodachrome, Was A Sunny Day, and Love Me Like a Rock. Classic.

So when I heard a new in-store album playing early last week at work, I knew I heard a familiar voice. Paul Simon has a new album out and it's a winner.

Product Description:

Produced by Phil Ramone and Paul Simon, with liner notes written by Elvis Costello, So Beautiful or So What is one of the most highly anticipated albums of the year. Rolling Stone magazine recently declared it, "His best since Graceland," and National Public Radio affirmed, "...his new music balances great poetry and pop. Paul Simon is a national treasure." In their current issue, Filter Magazine calls the new album, "...a new masterpiece from the Picasso of music."

This is Simon's 12th (!) solo album and his first release in five years. You don't want to miss it.

Click here for more info.

Click here to view Simon's video for So beautiful or so what.

The Girl Who Kicked the Hornet's Nest

The Girl Who Kicked the Hornet's Nest by Stieg Larsson
Fiction – Mystery/Thriller
2010 Random House Audio, Unabridged EditionRead by Simon Vance
Finished 4/1/11
Rating: 4.5/5 (Terrific!)



“It’s over! And I feel the same sense of pleasure and loss that I did when I watched the finale of ‘The Sopranos’ and the last episodes of ‘Battlestar Galactica’ . . . Salander is, I promise, someone you will never forget . . . Anyone who enjoys grounding their imaginations in hundreds and hundreds and hundreds of exciting pages about the way we live now ought to take advantage of this trilogy.”
—Alan Cheuse, Chicago Tribune

SPOILER ALERT

Product Description

The stunning third and final novel in Stieg Larsson’s internationally best-selling trilogy

Lisbeth Salander—the heart of Larsson’s two previous novels—lies in critical condition, a bullet wound to her head, in the intensive care unit of a Swedish city hospital. She’s fighting for her life in more ways than one: if and when she recovers, she’ll be taken back to Stockholm to stand trial for three murders. With the help of her friend, journalist Mikael Blomkvist, she will not only have to prove her innocence, but also identify and denounce those in authority who have allowed the vulnerable, like herself, to suffer abuse and violence. And, on her own, she will plot revenge—against the man who tried to kill her, and the corrupt government institutions that very nearly destroyed her life.

Once upon a time, she was a victim. Now Salander is fighting back.

END SPOILER ALERT

After reading the final pages of The Girl Who Played With Fire (and its cliff-hanger-of-an-ending), I knew it would be impossible to wait very long to read this third and final installment in Stieg Larsson’s marvelous trilogy. My husband and I had already seen both films and the third was waiting to be viewed as soon as I finished the novel. I couldn’t read fast enough. And yet, I found myself getting a little bogged down with some of the complicated details involving The Section and Sweden’s security police (aka Säpo). I was listening to the audio version and finally had to pick up the book just to see the words. I’m not sure why that helps, but simply hearing the names of the characters confused me greatly. So many of the Swedish names sound alike and I was afraid I’d miss out on a critical detail if I “skimmed” while listening. And it worked! Seeing the names helped to place the characters in my mind's eye.

Once I got to the courtroom drama, I found every excuse to listen to my Nano. Oh, no honey. I’ll do the dishes. You go read. No really. I don’t mind cleaning up the kitchen all by myself. Oh, look at the time. Annie-dog needs to go for another walk. No, don’t get up. Your foot is still hurting. I can walk her again. No, really. ;) I spent the next week with my headphones permanently attached to my head, listening with breathless anticipation to the outcome of the Salander’s trial. Annika Giannini (Mikael’s sister and Lisbeth’s attorney) was simply amazing. I loved her character and the smooth style in which she cross-examined Dr. Peter Teleborian. Excellent writing!

As soon as I finished the book, I couldn’t wait to watch the movie. Lucky for me, it was next in our Netflix queue. Unfortunately, my enthusiasm was quickly dashed. What a disappointment! The movie lacked the finer details of the book and completely eliminated one of the best subplots of the novel. As much as I enjoyed the first two movies, this one fell short, leaving me rather anxious to see what Hollywood does with the same stories. And Daniel Craig is much easier on the eyes than Michael Nyqvist. Just sayin’.

Michael Nyqvist

Daniel Craig

Funny aside: I was listening to the book while out walking the dog one afternoon. I knew I was nearing the final chapter, but was quite honestly surprised when the story ended and Nowhere to Run To (Martha Reeves and the Vandellas) started to play. I assumed it was part of the audio version of the book and, quite honestly, the timing was very apropos. As I was returning home, another song (You Never Give Me Your Money by The Beatles) came on. Once again, I thought it was perfectly suitable for the conclusion of the story. But I had this niggling feeling that I’d missed something. It was the first time I had downloaded an audio book directly from our city library, so I decided to check my desktop just to be sure I hadn’t missed anything. Good thing I did. I had missed an entire track of narrative! While on my walk, my Nano had inadvertently switched over from the audio book to one of my iTune’s playlists! Boy, did I feel silly. But I was also pleased to have the opportunity to continue listening to Stieg Larsson’s final words.

Larsson’s Millennium Trilogy is an E-ticket of a ride. What a shame he didn’t live to see how popular his books turned out to be. I will truly miss Lisbeth Salander.

Cocktail Hour

Mmm, mmm, good!

Wordless Wednesday

Sarah's Key

Sarah's Key by Tatiana de Rosnay
Historical Fiction
2007 St. Martin’s Griffin
Finished on 3/24/11
Rating: 2.5/5 (Fair)




Publisher’s Blurb:

Paris, July 1942: Sarah, a ten-year-old girl, is taken with her parents by the French police as they go door-to-door arresting Jewish families in the middle of the night. Desperate to protect her younger brother, Sarah locks him in a bedroom cupboard—their secret hiding place—and promises to come back for him as soon as they are released.

Sixty Years Later: Sarah’s story intertwines with that of Julia Jarmond, an American journalist investigating the roundup. In her research, Julia stumbles onto a trail of secrets that link her to Sarah, and to questions about her own romantic future.

Over the years, I’ve become quite interested in World War II, and I’ve read several books about the Holocaust, so I was eager to finally get a chance to give Sarah's Key a read. I’d heard great things about this novel, but wanted to wait for the hype to die down before reading it myself. Unfortunately, I’m not sure that the delay made any difference. The positives? Well, the short chapters made for a very quick read. Going into the book, I was not familiar with Vel’ d’Hiv, so I appreciated learning about this particular event in Parisian history. However, short chapters, alternating between time periods, does not a great read make. Julia’s narrative is trite and melodramatic, and it was all I could do to continue reading about her unhappy marriage and obsession with Sarah’s life. The novel’s conclusion is contrived and sappy, and I’m fairly certain I’ll take a pass on de Rosnay’s new novel, A Secret Kept.

On Vel’ d’Hiv’:

There had been over four thousand Jewish children penned in the Vel’d’Hiv’, aged between two and twelve. Most of the children were French, born in France.

None of them came back from Auschwitz.

On a memorial on the boulevard de Grenelle:

On July 16 and 17, 1942, 13,152 Jews were arrested in Paris and the suburbs, deported and assassinated at Auschwitz. In the Velodrome d’Hiver that once stood on this spot, 1,129 men, 2,916 women, and 4,115 children were packed here in inhuman conditions by the government of the Vichy police, by order of the Nazi occupant. May those who tried to save them be thanked. Passerby, never forget!

Final thoughts: This is most definitely not of the same caliber as The Book Thief.

And yet, these three words spoke to me:

Zakhor. Al Tichkah.
Remember. Never forget.