Reconstructing Amelia

I’ll keep it brief.

This wasn’t for me.

Mind you, I cranked through this book and, thanks to a road trip to visit family, had a few hours in the car to burn through a couple hundred pages. But, in the end, it left me feeling meh.

It didn’t start out that way.

Reconstructing Amelia gets underway with a jolt. In the early pages, a New York City single mom has her world rocked to its core when her daughter jumps to her death from the roof of her posh private school. The question is simply, “why did she jump?” It quickly turns to “Did she really jump – or was she pushed?”

After the shock of that event, the book winds its way backwards. We read about life as a teenager from Amelia’s perspective and look for clues hidden in cryptic Facebook posts. We see mom’s side of things as she reaches back not only to the days before her daughter’s accident, but her life before she became Amelia’s mom. All of it is supposed to lead us to what happened on that roof and the truth about Amelia. Because I knew I was leading to that inevitiable reveal, I was turning pages quickly to get there. Then, I was turning pages quickly to just get done with the thing.

It wasn’t bad. It was just not great. I feel like the characters and even the plot relied too much on cliché (adolescent parties and secret clubs, single mom who works too much, etc.) When the author did reveal a few plot twists at the end, they just felt forced. I should have written down what I liked so much about the book before I finished it. I know it was a good start and kept me interested, but if it was a movie, I would have turned it off and read a book instead.

The Road

Exhale.

It's going to be awhile before I digest this one.

Am I the last person on the planet to read this book? I feel like I've probably picked it up 1,000 times over the years, ready to read it. But, I worried it was too dark and I'm not generally a fan of post-apocalyptic settings. Still, I feel like it's one of those books you have to read. Now, that I've read it?

Exhale.

You probably know the plot by now. I mean, the thing won a Pulitzer, for crying out loud. But, in case you don't know... The Road is a journey of father and son through a world destroyed years ago by an unexplained force. We never know how it happened or exactly how long ago. We don't know how old the boy is and we never learn either of their names. And, maybe that's the point. Their names don't really matter anymore to anyone other than each other. What's the point of a calendar when the days are stretched into oblivion?

Like sharks, the man and the boy have to stay moving. Where are they going doesn't really matter. They just keep moving to avoid the danger that lurks inside every abandoned house and around every bend in that road.

Perpetually cold and endlessly gray, the world they occupy is all the boy has ever known. His father is his entire world. Each is acutely aware that they can't survive without the other. A pistol is all they have to protect themselves from roaming bands of bad guys. Not just bad guys, though. Cannibals.

I found myself racing through this book, wanting something in the end. I knew all along, however, that I wasn't going to get a satisfying conclusion. The world wasn't going to "undestroy" itself. Instead, like the man and his son, I found myself sometimes scared to turn the page, afraid of what I would find on the other side.

Along the way, they find relics of the world that has fallen away, in maps and canned goods and abandoned trains and left-behind treasures. They live because of what's left by those who could not survive. And, as readers, we discover the absolute worst of mankind that appears to emerge when societal norms fall away.

Did I like this book? Like isn't the right word. A couple of scenes depicted in this book would make you something of a monster for saying you "liked" it. So, how do I feel about it?

It's complicated.

Do I appreciate the work? Absolutely. It's brilliant in both concept and execution. But, it's disturbing as hell, too. And, somehow unsatisfying. 

I'm glad I read it. I won't read it again. And, whether or not you choose to read it, you're probably right.

The Power

What would happen if everything was different? If the patriarchy was upended and the women ruled all? Would it truly be, as many have said, a kinder, gentler world? Would our innate kindness prevail? This book examines that question in ways only a brilliant storyteller could imagine.

In The Power, it happens in a flash - literally. Young girls around the world develop a power that initially can't be explained. They can generate electricity from inside themselves, giving them the power to fight off almost anyone. You cheer for them initially, as victims of rape can stun and kill their attackers by summoning this power from within. You watch as entire societies are upended. Then, you hope against hope they won't do what others in power have done for centuries.

It's that quote above that stuck with me throughout. As the women slowly gain power and take over the world, you hold you breath and hope they choose a better path. Momentum builds towards the inevitable, yet you still hope someone will come in and stop it. And, you hope that "we" turn out to be better than "them."

A friend and co-worker gave me this book the day before I flew across the country. I opened it before my flight took off and immediately knew I wouldn't be napping on this flight. I couldn't read it fast enough, as I watched through that open slit between my fingerprints, fearful of what was to come.

The jacket of this book says it will make you rethink everything. It did not oversell. Beautifully written, completely unique and perfectly timed with the #MeToo movement, it's food for thought wrapped in literature. 

Good Booty

I'll admit, it's the cover that caught my attention. I was wandering through my local library on a snowy Sunday morning, looking for a non-fiction book to round out my stack. I don't know exactly what I was looking for, but a bright pink cover snagged my attention. It helped, too, that the words GOOD BOOTY were written in huge letters on the side. I'd like to say I knew it was about music.

I'd be lying.

But, I was instantly intrigued to learn what the book was actually about. Written by an NPR music critic, Good Booty tells the story of sex and music and how the two are intertwined throughout American history. Yeah, I thought. I should check this out.

We've all had that moment - when you realize what that song is really about. For me, it was probably Madonna's Open Your Heart video. I was in about 4th grade and my best friend and I would try to recreate the video in her basement. Have you seen that video? Looking back, I'm sure our parents would have been horrified to see us work that backwards chair! But, it's a rite of passage in many ways, to realize the sexuality that music represents.

Ann Powers' book starts before the civil war on the streets of New Orleans. Slaves brought the music and movements of Africa to the city, mixing that with stiff American culture of the day. Over time, the cultures collided, often on the dance floor before it did in the rest of society. Powers describes how music evolved through the decades, from the sexual undertones of the Charleston to the free love movement of Haight-Ashbury in the 1960's. She brings it all the way up to Beyonce, with a long discussion about the influence of the Single Ladies on the music and videos that would follow.

It's hard to decipher when you read it which comes first, the cultural change or the music. Which is the chicken and which is the egg? Either way, you watch society evolve from buttoned up to free to closed off in the age of AIDS - and, to the autotune robot that defines pop princess Britney Spears.

This book reads like a text book. You could imagine it being assigned by a a professor in that cool college class you should have taken. You can envision listening to tracks and writing papers on their influence. But, academic as the framework is, it's still terribly fascinating, too. And, a good reminder that the best songs will move more than just your soul.

Beartown

It took me so much longer than I expected to finish this book. It's not that it wasn't compelling (more on that in a second). It's more because, like everyone in the universe, I was trying to avoid getting hit by this nasty flu. So, over the last two weeks, I've traded hours of reading this heart-wrenching book for sleep. 

But, wow. This book.

That quote spells out so perfectly the irrationality of being a sports fan. If you're not an over-the-top fan of sports on some level, I don't know that this book will resonate as much with you. You won't understand why the people of the factory community of Beartown live their lives through high school kids playing hockey. You'll think that obsession is so irrational, you won't understand why it blinds them to everything else. You won't even begin to relate to why adults put their hopes and dreams - and, the hopes and dreams of their dying town - onto the backs of those boys. 

But, if you do get that way about sports, you may detest a part of yourself, too. Because the people of Beartown are like so many of us. So many who would trust the word of an athlete above all else. Who would be willing to look the other way - away from something terrible - if it meant the dreams of your team would stay alive. You would know that it's wrong and maybe do it anyway. And, if you did, you would be like so many in Beartown.

This is a powerful, heartbreaking, beautifully-written book by the same guy who wrote A Man Called Ove and My Grandmother Asked Me to Tell You She's Sorry, two of my favorite books from last year. Once again, he finds a way to appeal to something deep inside of all of us. He finds those universal truths that allow you to relate to an immigrant kid playing hockey in a small town - or the aging coach of that club who finds himself irrelevant. And, the young girls who seek deep solace in each other's friendship, even as their childhood crumbles around them.

Beartown is about hockey. And, community. And, small towns and dying dreams. It's about adolescence and feeling invincible and lies we tell to fit in. It's about the choices we make and the consequences we're willing to accept. And, it's about the reality you learn as you get older: no matter how hard we try, we can't protect our children.

This book first drew me in, then it broke my heart. I had moments of joy and moments of recognition. I read lines, like the one above, that expressed perfectly the reality of every day life. 

Of the three Backman books I've read so far, this was by far the darkest and most powerful. And, was still as beautifully written as the others. I don't know that I could read it again, but I would start it over in a heartbeat.

We're Going to Need More Wine

This was a one day read.

I picked up Gabrielle Union's book at the library at 10:25. At 10:30 pm, I finished the last page.

Did I like it? Duh.

Let me start by saying, I already loved Gabrielle Union. Not just because of Bring It On (because, obviously...) but also because of her strength and the fact she makes no apologies for being herself. It also doesn't hurt that she's married to the greatest Marquette basketball player of all time.

Then, she comes out with this book and the title alone spoke to me. We're Going to Need More Wine. You bet your ass we are.

She starts this book with a very personal note to readers about the stories she's about to share. She acknowledges the fear of laying bare your life for the world to see. Especially when the world wants and expects you to be one person. But, you feel from those very first pages that you're really going to get a sense of what has made her the woman she has become; not Gabrielle Union the celebrity, but Gabrielle Union, the woman. 

I laughed, I cried, I awkwardly remembered my first period and I Googled pictures of what Jason Kidd looked like in high school - and I was only 105 pages in.

She shares so much here that's easy to relate to. She talks about trying to fit in, trying to live up to people's expectations, the breakup of her parents, her early teenage independence and the questionable decisions that come with that. Some of it put me back into early adolescence immediately. Then, she talks about being black in a mostly white community - and, about the discrimination she felt within her own race because she's not considered light-skinned. Obviously, I can't relate specifically to that, but anyone can understand that struggle between what we believe about ourselves and what others see.

She also describes being violently raped while working at a Payless Shoes while she was in college. She talks about the fear that still lives inside of her and the resources she found to get through the months afterwards. Folks, she's been through some things. But, this book doesn't sugar coat the journey to "the other side" of that. She speaks frankly about how that fear never completely goes away.

You follow this journey with her from uncertain teenager with low self-esteem to beautiful, successful, seemingly confident woman. She does not apologize for her sexuality. She does not apologize for her strength. We could all use a little more of that, right?

I'm sure it sounds incredibly corny, but I felt inspired by this book. I felt nostalgic, too (when she talks about a boyfriend singing The Tony Rich Project's "Nobody Knows" to keep her from leaving, it was 1996 all over again.) If you're a woman who read Judy Blume to help understand about puberty, there's something in this book for you.

I read this book so quickly, I feel guilty bringing it back to the library today. They didn't have it at my branch, so I had to request it and that process took about a week. Now, I'm going to bring it back the next day??? Sorry, Moran Prairie Library. I just couldn't put it down.

This One is Mine

This book is something of a juxtaposition.

I love Maria Semple. Where'd You Go Bernadette is one of my favorite books of the last 10 years. And, I love the pace at which she writes and the characters she conjures up. This book began as no exception. It just felt easy and I looked forward to opening up every night this week.

Then, it kind of lost me.

I'll back up.

The book revolves around an extended family living in Los Angeles. We meet Violet, the wife of a hot-shot music agent who is clearly restless in her marriage. And, we meet that music agent's sister Sally, who is desperate for a life free of financial stress.

These ladies are a mess.

Violet quit her job as a TV writer when her husband's career soared. She filled her empty days with projects - first, a home renovation. Then, she found a project disguised as a struggling musician she met in a high-end bathroom. He's impressed with her - enamored with her. And, you can tell she's chasing that high that's clearly missing from her marriage. It's a cliche for a reason and it carries the plot for awhile.

Sally is chasing the financial comfort that Violet is clearly taking for granted. Her desperation shows as she locks down a rising TV star who is clearly not compatible.

Both stories converge and you cover your eyes waiting for the crash.

You can see, the plot is compelling. The characters are fantastically awful, yet somehow relatable. But, I still didn't love it. It was Semple's first novel and it feels like it. I felt like she had some good bones, but maybe tried to do too much. I found myself just wanting it to be done.

Would I recommend this book? Probably not. But, I'd recommend every other Maria Semple book, as you can clearly see the improvement with each one.