What Should Be Wild

I feel like I’m on a cold streak. The last few books I’ve read have left me longing… This one almost scratched the itch.

Until I hit page 210 or so.

The premise of What Should Be Wild is enough to grab you. A young girl, kept basically captive in her family’s old estate. Maisie’s father can’t let her out because she has an incredible and mysterious power. She kills everything she touches. Plants, people, animals… nothing is safe. Her mother could not even survive the process of carrying her and she was borne from her mother’s death She also has the power to bring things back to life with that same touch. But, you can see why her father could take no chances. She’s also told never to go into the mysterious woods behind the walls.

You can see where this is going.

When Maise finally ends up venturing into those woods, she sets into motion a centuries-old curse. It’s a curse that has women from throughout her family’s lineage, trapped in some sort of in-between. They are there because they fled what would have otherwise held them back.

It’s fascinating and, for the first 200 pages or so, it carried me. I was hungry for what’s next. I was anxious to see how this “cursed” little girl could help unlock the curse that kept her ancestors captive in the woods. Unfortunately, the book was 308 pages long. And, it took a dive well before that ending. I found myself slogging ahead, wondering what happened to all that juicy momentum. When Maise is forced to take a detour out of the woods, I found myself detouring interest as well. The ending may have been satisfying had it not been for the 100 pages or so that preceded it.

Maybe it’s me. Maybe it’s that this was the author’s first book. Either way, what started out as such a fascinating story ultimately lost me. Maybe a re-write would do the trick, as the ending was somewhat satisfying on its own.

I actually finished this book more than a week ago, but just got around to writing about it because it just didn’t interest me enough to share.

Unfortunately, the book I’m currently reading may be following the same fate.

Stay tuned…

Whiskey

I finished this book last week, but I really needed to sit with it. I needed to shake it off. I needed to let it roam around inside my head before I put my thoughts on paper.

What did I learn? 

It's a good book. But, it's a hard read.

Whiskey's cover caught my eye, then I learned the author is local and that the book takes place all around me. From the reservation to where I live to the mountains and hills that make up eastern and central Washington, brothers Andre and Smoker live a tough life. From their addict parents' tumultuous home to their own misguided choices and mistakes, you find yourself wanting to root for them, but frustrated time and again at the decisions that lead them to inevitable tragedy.

This book forces that question... how much are we a product of our DNA, of our upbringing, of the small towns and small minds that pre-date our existence. How much can we blame the nurture AND the nature before we're responsible for our own lives? 

The story of these brothers meanders a bit between time periods and points of view. The writing is dense. The subject matter is heavy. There are times you can't help but sigh because you know the alcohol is going to win. You know the men are going to leave. You know the women are going to fail their children.

It's extremely well-written and I can see it being taught it schools as an example of the modern American west genre. But, it's not a story in which you can casually dwell. Read at your own risk, knowing the characters will fail themselves and your expectations. Know that it's reality for so many families in poverty. 

Despite my appreciation for the writing and the structure, I struggled to get through it. I know it's a good book, but I can't say it's a good read. The lack of redemption was just too much.

The Farm

If you're someone who still reads magazines (which I am), you'll be reading all about this book this spring and summer (which I had.) I have tried my best to save money on my book habit by checking out at the library instead of buying hardcover books, but the hype got me on this one. I caved. I bought. I read.

So, does it live up to the hype?

Almost.

When I rated this book on Good Reads, I started with 4 stars. Just now, I went back and changed to 3 stars. In reality, I'd like to make it a strong 3.5 stars. Maybe 3.75 stars (which is the score a young Britney Spears got on Star Search, which is neither here nor there.) The point is, I thought so much of this book was fascinating, but it just fell slightly short of what it could have been.

The premise is what got me. The book is about a placed called Golden Oaks, which is a high-end retreat for surrogates. The women there, many of them immigrants, are called Hosts. They're carrying the babies of the super rich who either can't carry their own babies or simply don't have time to let pregnancy interfere with their lives and careers. The surrogates have everything they could possibly need for healthy, relaxing pregnancies. They have cashmere pajamas, massages on demand, weekly ultrasounds and the best food and vitamins money can buy. What they don't have is, you guessed it, any freedom at all. Their phone calls, emails and internet use are closely monitored and most don't even know whose babies they are carrying. They leave their lives behind for those nine months with the hope of a large paycheck at the end. All they have to do is successfully deliver healthy babies.

What could possibly go wrong?

What does go wrong, without giving too much away, is that their very human choices and urges and emotional needs get in the way. Some of the Hosts start to regret the contracts they signed and the lives they left behind. Some resent the control the Clients have over their bodies. Others, the immigrants specifically, start to realize that no matter what happens inside Golden Oaks, their lives will always be lived at the mercy of others.

The concept here is fascinating - and, timely. The characters are compelling and well drawn. It was interesting and well-paced enough that I finished it in three days. There is drama implicit in the plot, but I feel like Ramos could have pushed even further. That said, this could easily be a movie or miniseries with a little juicing up of some of the storylines that carry through.

So, is it 3 stars or 4? Today, it's 3.5 stars (which is one quarter star more than Justin Timberlake received on Star Search, if you're keeping track.)

All in all, a good summer read. Just like the magazines told me it would be.

The Library Book

I thought I was going to read a book about a fire. Instead, I learned about the history of the Los Angeles library system and more about libraries themselves than I ever expected to learn. 

Books, man. 

I read in passing about this book and about how it detailed the mystery behind a massive fire than destroyed millions of books in the 1980's. Something about the description appealed to me, but I really didn't take the time to read what else the book was about before I checked it out from the library. I'm sort of glad I didn't. I feel like if I knew it was going to be about a library system I've never set foot in, I probably would have written it off and found something else. 

I'm so glad I didn't.

For example... Did you know there are more public libraries in the U.S. than there are McDonald's? Did you know movie studios used to steal so many books from the libraries in L.A. that they hired two full-time people to visit the studios and take them back? That's the kind of thing I learned from this book. And about how library collections and circulations closely mirror the issues of the day (right before prohibition, for example, people stole most of the books about making liquor at home from the libraries.)

Susan Orlean has a clear love and appreciation for public libraries and their role in our communities. In the course of investigating the fire that ravaged the library (about which she really does uncover some revelations), she started to see why libraries matter so much to her. In that discovery, she draws parallels to her mother's battle with dementia. It's a book about books, a book about family, a book about memory and a book about communities.

I really enjoyed this book, though I wouldn't recommend it to everyone. It's educational, it's profound and it's, at times, fascinating. But, if you're not a lover of libraries, you may find yourself slogging through, hoping to learn who really started the fire. 

There is one line that Orlean I loved that sums up that love and appreciation of libraries and of books - and, of her need to write this one. "Writing a book, just like building a library, is an act of sheer defiance. It is a declaration that you believe in the persistence of memory." 

Things My Son Needs to Know About the World

I believe I pre-ordered this book one second after it was announced.

Yes, because I have young sons and it's a bit of a mystery how I can raise them to grow up and be smart, caring, romantic, independent grown-ups. But, also because everything Fredrik Backman writes is instantly my favorite thing to read. This was a departure from the novels that I've raved about in the past; it's every bit as heartwarming and delicious.

In this book, Backman writes to his young son about everything from the rule you MUST follow in Ikea (he lives in Sweden, it's a big deal) to why every man should join a band (for the t-shirts, of course, but also the friendships.) It's sweet, really funny and includes the universal truths that make his writing so special and memorable.

I love that it's not mushy in any way - he refers to toddlers as "tiny telemarketers" for their demanding nature. He acknowledges that little kids can be absolute assholes from time to time. You laugh... then, you sigh when some chapters feel like they're written less for his son and more as a love letter to his wife.

Backman manages to be sweet and tender and even a little crude at times. He's also so damn profound, there's a sentence every so often that takes the wind out of you with an emotional punch to the chest.

I don't want to give any of it away and I couldn't do it justice if I wanted to, but there's a chapter about good v. evil when Backman expounds on the tough lessons his son will learn and all the bad things we encounter in the course of ordinary life. Then, he hits you with the counter-punch: "It's also full of all the other stuff. The small things. Kindness between strangers. Love at first sight. Loyalty and friendship. Someone's hand in ours on a Sunday afternoon. Two brothers reconciled. Heroes who stand up when no one else dares. A fiftysomething man in a Saab who slows down when he sees your turn signal and lets you into his lane during rush hour. Summer nights. Children's laughter. Cheesecake."

Backman, man.

Reading this helps me understand why Backman writes fiction the way he does. It made me appreciate his novels even more. If someone told me Backman was writing a book about the inner workings of my sewer pipes, I'd read it. Thankfully, he wrote this instead. And, I loved every second.

Did I learn how to raise better sons? Not explicitly. But, I did learn that a man can be sweet and thoughtful and crude and write beautiful books that make you think differently about the world. That's an even better lesson for a woman raising sons.

Homegoing

Wow.

Wow, this book.

You've probably never read anything quite like it. And, I can't wait to read something like this again.

Homegoing is a story of family, of history and of the legacy that's embedded deep in our DNA. Embedded even more firmly when you're a descendant of the slave trade. This story begins on Africa's Gold Coast in the 18th century, in a village where human beings are bought and sold. It ends in America, centuries later, where the scars of slavery remain. In between, you live through generations, volleying back and forth between two families. You get one chapter for every character, leaving you wanting more and giving you hints of the progression that moves the family through time. Through their stories, you see a butterfly effect of how minor acts and small decisions can set a family's course for generations.

I just read another review of this book and about how the title is taken from an African-American belief that death transports the spirit back to Africa. Here, you see the echoes of those early days in the village playing out in their descendants. You see in vivid prose that the curse of slavery continues to damage, long after the practice was outlawed.

This book is uniquely told, beautifully written and incredibly moving. Easily one of the best books I've read this year.

Washington Black

When a book is on pretty much every list for one of the best of the year, you should probably read it. Sometimes you'll be disappointed (The Vegetarian, anyone? UGH). But, sometimes you can instantly see why the world raved about such a book.

Washington Black was one of those books. I read about it on a ton of lists, recalling the best reads of 2018. The writing alone makes it worthy. But, as good as that writing was and as much as I found myself interested, I would have liked for the story to move along a little more quickly. That would have taken it from 3 stars to 4 for me in the all-important "random book rankings on Good Reads" scale.

Washington Black is our narrator - full name: George Washington Black. He's given that name by the master who owns him on a sugar plantation in Barbados. We meet "Wash" as they call him in the opening pages and he tells us then that he is a free man. Then, he goes back to his earliest memories on that plantation and foreshadows the route to freedom that is to come.

We learn of the violence through Wash's eyes. How he came to lean on an older slave named Big Kit and how he's invited into the master's house for a meeting that changes his life. We follow Wash to freedom, to America, to the Arctic and beyond - and, we realize that while he's technically free, he can never escape the men and the memories that haunted his life as a slave.

The story is compelling. The characters are sometimes larger than life. But, it's the beauty of Edugyan's writing that makes this book a worthwhile read. Again, there were times the story slowed and a lesser author would have lost me. But, she manages to create enough inertia that you have to simply follow Wash's story to see where it goes.