The Great Believers

Oh, this book.

THIS BOOK.

I think I'll look back at the end of the year and feel even more strongly about The Great Believers than I do right now. And, I feel pretty dang strongly about it now.

It's about hope and death and love and family and war and friendship and the AIDS crisis of the 1980s. It's about Chicago's Boystown and 1920's Paris and the love that stays with you, long after the person is gone.

It's about the burden of memory. And, the gift of memory, too.

Yale is a gay man in Chicago in the mid-1980s. The gay community there was like a battlefield, with the "new" disease AIDS picking off men, one by one. Yale watches slowly as men around him become infected and die, always suspecting the same disease might come for him.

Fiona's brother Nico is one of Yale's closest friends. Nico dies early on and Fiona is the one who takes care of them all and really tries to hold the whole community together. 

Chapters alternate between the 1980s and 2015. In the future timeline, Fiona is in Paris trying to track down her daughter, who once joined a cult and has cut off ties with her parents. What Fiona finds in Paris is far beyond what she was looking for. She's also confronted with the memories of those times in the 80's and all the men she lost.

In the middle of all of this, there's the story of an old woman dedicated to paying tribute to a man she love and lost 70 years before. An artist, who because of war, never got his due. Her story ties so closely together with Fiona and Yale. The burden of how we honor those we've left behind.

This book is long and, at first, felt a little slow. But, about a quarter of the way in, I was enveloped by the characters and the story. By the time I reached the final chapters this morning, I simply could not stop reading it. In fact, I sacrificed a good hair day because I read as a curled my hair. When I reached the last two pages, I stopped what I was doing and went to my bed to finish it. I needed to be wrapped up when I saw how it all ended. 

Yeah, that good.

That quote above comes late in the novel, as a character Fiona hadn't seen in decades finally reunites with her. He relates what they've been through to Horatio in Hamlet - the only character who lives to tell their stories. The burden of memory. I had never heard it that way. It's devastatingly beautiful.

I read in the afterword that the author wanted to write this book because not enough has been written about AIDS in Chicago. It's the third largest city, so many men died. Someone needed to tell their story. I'm so glad it was done in such a beautiful way.

Despite the apparent death sentence, the men in this book are somehow still hopeful. They care for each other as, one by one, they fall away. The parallel to the old woman telling stories of losing men in World War I was subtle and heartbreaking. 

There's so much here. So much that will stay with me. 

As I write this, I've just found out that Amy Poehler has optioned this book for a 

TV project. I can imagine it being told beautifully, richly - and by one of my favorite people! But, I do believe (no pun intended) that it should be read first. 

The Witches Are Coming

I'll start by saying I'm a fan of Lindy West. She's unapologetic in her feminism and her ownership of self, despite the fact she's been a lightning rod for criticism because of those things. I've read her other writing and I'm a fan. But, this book just didn't quite do it for me.

West's writing addresses the sexism that still permeates across America. This book specifically talks about that sexism in Trump's America. The first essay is the best one, in which she describes how the term "witch hunt" is now thrown around casually, including by the president, and (ironically?) ignores the origins of that term and the sexism that drove and defined the actual witch hunt that took place in American history. I love when she says "the witches are coming" as a way to show women are not backing down anymore. I love that message - political or not - of equality and feminism.

I think my problem here was that every essay led to that same conclusion. That's not unexpected, really, but it just ended up feeling repetitive. Because of that, I found myself liking the book a little less with every essay I read. Not that I didn't want her to come to the same conclusion - it's the basic theme of her writing. But, I felt like I wanted something else from it; I wanted some different avenue, maybe, even if the conclusion was ultimately the same.

The bigger issue is probably that I'm not a huge fan of books of essays unless other voices are brought in. The exception, probably, is Trick Mirror, which I read earlier this month and loved.

There's some good stuff here, don't get me wrong. About the depiction of abortion in pop culture, about the mystery of Adam Sandler, etc. But, maybe I'm better off with an essay at a time instead of a book full all at once.

Ghost Wall

Oh man, this book had promise.

How much promise? A blurb on the back said it would grab me by the guts and not let go!

Sometimes, a little gut grabbing is just what you need!

Well, it was a hell of a start, but left my guts wanting more.

It's a compact novella with a hell of a plot. A family takes a two-week "vacation" to far northern England to join an Anthropology class adventure. The dad, who you'll hate instantly, is obsessed with life in the Iron Age. The class is designed to replicate that exact experience, from the tunics to the foraging to the creepy "ghost wall" made out of human heads (back then) or animal heads (in their interpretation) as a way to scare off Roman invaders.

The book is told through Silvie's eyes, the teenage girl forced to live here in her dad's bizarre fantasy land. This is a dad who beats her - both before they come on the trip and during - but, her perspective remains clear and her voice is strong throughout.

Dad, being the real peach that he is, takes the whole thing too far and the next thing you know they're really trying to be authentic by inching towards human sacrifice.

That's where your guts get grabbed.

Yet, as bizarre and fascinating and unique as this story is, the book itself feels somehow formulaic. You can't believe where it's going, yet it's somehow predictable at the same time.

My co-worker read it, too, and she's right: it takes a leap without a middle and leaves you wondering if it would have been better as a 230-page book instead of a 130-page novella.

I didn't hate it. As I said, the characters' voices were interesting and the writing was fantastic. The plot itself is unique. But, it needed more/different/better. I leave with my guts intact.

Trick Mirror

I'm coming in hot to 2020 with a book that I bought myself for Christmas.

Somehow, Jia Tolentino's book of essays slipped on past me through most of 2019, but the cover screamed at me from the shelves at Auntie's Bookstore and I bought it just in time for a plane ride (the best reading setting in the world, if you ask me. Maybe 'above' the world is a better description. Either way. Let's not dwell on the prepositions.)

I've read Tolentino's writing in the past and I love both her voice and her perspective. In a world where everyone has a "take", Tolentino's perspectives are more thoughtful than they are knee-jerk and some of her essays in this collection resonate even more a week after I've read them.

She opens big with thoughts on the internet and the internet culture in which we are all now immersed. It's the reality now that social media has given us all some kind of voice; with that has come the need for all of us (most of us?) to constantly perform. She points out, though, that this is nothing new, pointing to decades-old research about how we're all performing all the time - the internet simply magnifies it.

My favorite thoughts on that topic, though, are about this "fake woke" culture so many of us buy into. It's so easy to express a view on feminism/homelessness/poverty/civil right, etc. without having to do the work to change those social ills. "The internet was dramatically increasing our ability to know about things while our ability to change things stayed the same," she writes. The act of showing solidarity on social media is far more desirable than actually doing anything about the issues.

She writes about the meteoric rise of athleisure, at once complimenting and condemning it. She subtly mocks the "Spiritual Gangster" tank top trends and eloquently explains the draw of often-overpriced leggings. "It feels comforting to wear high-quality spandex," she says. "I imagine it's what a dog feels like in a Thundershirt."

There are thoughts on marriage and how the institution ultimately harms women more than men; she writes about the scams that define her generation, from Frye Festival to student debt to the housing market crash; she compares ecstasy to her megachurch Houston upbringing; and she devotes an entire chapter to the pure heroism of young female characters in literature.

I didn't love every essay, but I loved most and at least liked the rest. She's worth a follow on Twitter, a read of this book and at least a few thoughts next time to log onto Facebook and see your Namaste in Bed-clad friending posting about social issues.

A great start towards my goal of 60 (!) books in 2020. Away we go!

Disappearing Earth

Finished my last book of 2019 just under the wire. I expected I would be finishing as the clock approached midnight on NYE, but a bout of middle-of-the-night insomnia made for a good hour to wrap things up this morning. This was a good one to end with, but it left a little to be desired.

I didn't know much about Disappearing Earth, but it was on quite a few lists of the best books of the year. Reading the description, I wasn't sure it was for me. But, it was a well-told story with a complicated web of characters that you knew would somehow come together in the end.

It starts with the disappearance of two sisters on Russian's Kamachtaka Peninsula. Isolated from many and in the shadow of a volcano, the mystery begins on that very first page. We, the readers, know that the girls are taken. Many in the region believe they merely drowned in the bay. 

Each chapter is a different month of the year of their disappearance and each focuses on new characters. Slowly, they start to blend into each other's stories. When each chapter begins, it takes a few pages to engage with that story, but I found every one of them to be worthwhile on their own. Then, you see a pattern emerge about the way women are treated in this far-flung part of the world; each of their stories, much of their existence, is defined by the men in their lives. In each case, you realize that it's up to the women to find their own way.

I found this story riveting and, at times, breathtaking. There were a couple of moments where I literally put my hand over my heart at what was taking place. But, as it raced toward its conclusion, I found it wrapped up a little too easily. I also look back now realizing some of the characters that moved the book along didn't do much to advance the story itself. While much of it was grounded in realism, the ending felt a little too tidy. 

My 5 favorite books of 2019

By the time the clock strikes midnight and a new decade begins, I should have finished reading my 55th book of the year. 55! That's more than I expected, but a healthy pace for the third straight year.

As some of you know, this blog started with a New Year's resolution for 2017 to read a book every week. In 2017, I finished 56. Last year, I wasn't planning on keeping up that pace, but finished with 44 total. I fully plan to keep up the one book per week pace next year, but I also have a lot of TV shows I want to finish and a lot of podcasts to try, so I'm not going to make myself crazy. Still, I have absolutely loved getting back in the habit of reading more and there are a million on my list still to read.

So, breaking down 2019...

55 books is a lot of books. Looking back, though, that number is not entirely accurate. I started and didn't finish a book this year, but it keeps showing up on my total. It was truly awful, you guys. And, I don't feel bad about not finishing it. But, maybe 54 1/2 is a more accurate description for how many books I actually FINISHED this year. There's your factcheck.

I LIKED a lot of what I read this year. I didn't love quite as many as I have in the past few years. I read a good mix of new and older, fiction and non-fiction. I read a lot of books that dealt with poverty and a lot of books that examined the ways society puts women in boxes and expects them to stay there. That wasn't intentional, I really do try to mix it up. That's just the way the bibliography shook out.

This year, I became even more intimately familiar with my public library. Wait, intimately may not be the right word there... It was a strictly platonic relationship. But, I did check out quite a few more books this year, which means I bought fewer titles. I miss owning books. I'll be moving into a new house in a couple of months and have space set aside for bookshelves, so I look forward to transfering some of the shoe budget to the book budget (just kidding... books AND shoes are what make the world go 'round.)

So, sorry for the preamble there. I just like to look back on the year in books as whole. For those of you who have read this far, THANK YOU. Thanks for reading this, thanks for reading my reviews, thanks for suggesting new books to add to my list. I already have about 20 in the queue for 2020...

Without further adieu, my top 5 books of 2019... (out of 54 1/2). Links go back to my full reviews.

1. Daisy Jones & the Six. 

I couldn't possibly love this book more. One of my top five favorite books of all time. Daisy Jones & the Six are a band in the 70s who hit it big, then break up with no public explanation. This book is told as if in a series of interviews in a music magazine. It's about love, family, music, badass women, heartbreak. It's just perfect. It took my breath away at times, broke my heart in others. And, I read it on the beach in Costa Rica, so it will always feel like coconuts and sunshine to me. I rarely read a book more than once; I will absolutely read this one again.

2. City of Girls

Another one of my favorite books of the year (and of... ever) is about a strong, badass woman who lives her life in a way you don't expect. Our protagonist here lives unapologetically, but only after she's shamed and forced to rethink everything. City of Girls is pure magic. It's about a woman named Vivian who loves sex, loves men and lives out loud in a period of time where that wasn't exactly accepted. This book shows you the consequences of her actions and also how she defined herself beyond her youth. It's written as a letter to a woman whose identity we don't learn until nearly the end. It completely swept me away. Like Daisy Jones, I also read this book on vacation. A long weekend at the lake and this book was exactly what I needed.

3. Homegoing

Okay, I didn't read this book on vacation. And, it's not about misguided women living life on their own terms. Lest you think that's all I read this year. What Homegoing has in common with the first two books on this list is the unique narrative structure. With as many characters as this book laid out, the author had to be incredibly skilled to pull it off without confusing the reader. Yaa Gyasi did it magnifenctly. Homegoing tells the story of a two family bloodlines from a village in Africa, through slavery into the United States and into present day. Each chapter switches between families; each chapter advances the family another generation. It's incredibly written, remarkable in its structure. This book was published in 2016; my only regret is not reading it sooner.

4. The Testaments

I feel like I cheated a little bit on this one. I hadn't read Atwood's famous book The Handmaid's Tale until this year. To be honest, I didn't realize it was as famous a novel as it was. All I knew was that the world was obsessed with the Hulu series. I was fascinated by the subject matter, but didn't feel like I had the time to invest in the series. But, as soon as I saw all the hype about its sequel finally being released, I had to see what it was all about. I read Handmaid's Tale, then immediately jumped into The Testaments. I felt like I cheated because I didn't have to wait the 34 years like the readers of the original book had to do. Jumping into both back-to-back was a revelation. Handmaid's Tale is about the dystopian society where women lose all of their power and are relegated into categories designed only to perpetuate the species. So much mystery is left at the end. The Testaments answers all of it in a completely satisfying way. Again, badass women living outside of their boxes. I loved them both. You absolutely can't read one without the other.

5. Three Women

Okay, now that I've reached the final book of this list, I realize 2019 absolutely did have a feminist vibe. And, a tilt towards books not written in the most conventional way. Three Women is a strange book to describe and my feelings about it have changed a lot since I finished reading it three months ago. A work of non-fiction, the book is a profile of (you guessed it) three women with very different and complicated stories to tell. One is a young woman who had an affair with her high school teacher in a story that became national news. One is a woman trapped in a sexless marriage who reached out to her high school boyfriend and tries to recapture the sexual ache of her youth. The last is a powerful business woman whose husband likes to watch her have sex with other men. It's unflinching, intimate and, more often than not, extremely uncomfortable. It's the most in-depth, honest look at female desire that I've ever read. I've thought about it so much in the months since I read it. It makes you think about how women's sexuality is portrayed and how we all fit into advancing that complex narrative. And, it explores how men and women share that same desire, but it's the women most often punished for it.

So, that's my Top 5. Strong women, powerful narrative structure, covering centuries with diverse and unforgettable characters. 

There were others that I liked quite a bit that sit just outside this top 5. Here are some quick links, so you don't have to sift through all 55!

-Nickel Boys One of my favorites, it's about a school for "broken boys" in Florida and the racism that was finally exposed, decades later. 

-Becoming Michelle Obama's memoir was my first of 2019. A dense and powerful look at a woman who will stand in history in her own right.

-There's No Crying in Newsrooms - My most-read review on the blog this year, it's pretty specific to women in my industry. A powerful, important read for women in news.

-Immortalists Unique and powerful book about a group of siblings who are told by a fortune teller the day they will die. It follows them all through their lives as you wonder if the fortunes will come true. Such a great book! 

Hope you can find something here you like. As always, I'm happy to recommend books! Here's to a great year of reading in 2020. 

Fleishman Is In Trouble

Why books great 'til they gotta be great?

I'm exaggerating.

Kind of.

But, this book held so much promise for me. I liked so much of it. But, I feel like it fell apart in the final 30%. Like Peter Griffin on Family Guy once said about The Godfather, "It insists upon itself."

That's how this book ended for me. Like, it made its point (which was a good point, actually), then it just refused to end. That's what's left a bad taste in my mouth.

Let me back up.

This book took off like a rocket to me. Toby Fleishman is a soon-to-be-divorced fortysomething dad who is experiencing single life for the first time after a long and, to hear him tell it, tortured marriage. He's finding out through dating apps that there's a world of adult sexual experience to be explored and he's living his life to the absolute fullest in that regard. We also learn about his wife who is more obsessed with her career than she is with being a mom. One day, she drops the kids off early for their weekend with dad and vanishes. Drops off the face of the earth. No texts, no calls, no updates. In the weeks (and chapters) that follow, we wonder along with Toby how a mother could simply abandon her children. How could she be so selfish?

You see where this is going, right? It doesn't take a soothsayer to know that you're going to find out where Rachel really is and that maybe Toby's opinion isn't exactly spot on after all.

The book is narrated by Toby's college friend who is living her own version of a tortured marriage existence. Through her and every other central character in this book, the message of this book is crystal clear: in marriage, we're all wrong and we're all right and we rarely see it through other people's eyes. And, we're all longing for the past and future simultaneously without ever really appreciating the present.

See, there's a lot about this book that resonates. The idea that every day, we're getting older. We're constantly trying to hang onto something that's past. As parents and spouses, it's incredibly easy to forget who we are; when we try to remind ourselves, our motives are dismissed as selfish and immature.

The book did an incredible job capturing that feeling. It also did a great job exploring how we never really know anyone, even someone we've shared our bed with for more than a decade. And, it made the point about the expectations society has for women. We're either moms or sexual beings, but not both. We're either moms or ambitious about our career, but not both. The points are clear and relevant. But, at the end, it really belabored that point. It's also a theme that appears more and more in books I've read. The author here didn't do much to tell it in a different way. By the end, I felt like shouting "WE GOT IT!" and it still went on for 40 pages or so after that.

About 80% of the way through, there's a metaphor about watching a show that doesn't get good until the third season. It's about how we endure just because we're expecting some payoff and about the time we waste waiting for something to "get good." It was an apt metaphor given my thoughts on this book overall.

I guess what I'm trying to say here is, I almost loved this book. Maybe 70 fewer pages could have done the trick.