Novels Now

I slept with close to forty boys and men before I figured out doing so was not serving me well. [pg 1]

Loose Girl: A Memoir of Promiscuity by Kerry Cohen
Hyperion, 2008
Nonfiction (Memoir); 210 pgs

Kerry Cohen was nothing like me; or was she? While she was vying for men’s affections and slipping under the covers with boys and men she barely knew, I kept to myself, lost myself in my studies, and sought approval and attention in other ways. Sex, drugs and alcohol were never a part of my scene like they were for Kerry. Despite our different approaches to achieve a similar goal, I was really no different than the author of Loose Girl: A Memoir of Promiscuity.

Kerry Cohen came to realize early in her life that as a woman, she had a power over men. With a certain tilt of her head, the widening of her eyes, and a swing of her hip, men would take notice. Amidst her parents’ divorce, her mother’s favoritism of her sister and eventual abandonment, and her father’s easy going and unrestrictive mode of parenting where he sought to be more friend than parent figure, Kerry was left feeling invisible and hungry for attention most of her young life. Each of her parents harbored their own insecurities, which influenced Kerry and her sister, Tyler, both in different and yet similar ways.

Kerry wanted to be noticed. She wanted to be loved. She thought she could find what she was looking for by latching onto men. She thought she could not live without them—that they were the answer to her loneliness and lack of control over her life. And for a short while, it may have seemed satisfying to her—enough to keep her going back for more. She lost herself in the process, forgetting who she was, striving only to please the many men in her life, wanting them to want her. And yet, her constant need and wanting, even when she had what she had sought after, was never enough because she never quite felt secure in herself.

She eventually came to realize that the dangerous path she was traveling down would not give her what she truly needed most. Her life was spiraling out of control and like the alcoholic or drug addict, Kerry needed to hit rock bottom before she would be able to turn her life around. She did not like who she had become and realized that she had to do something to change that. She started to take back her life. She discovered her love for writing, which gave her a direction to go, and began to accept that she did not need a man to survive. Only then was she able to develop a healthy relationship with someone, and even then, it was not always so easy.

While I did not turn to sex and men the way Kerry did, I had my own vices, my own way of filling that void in my life. I too have felt what it is like to want to be noticed, to be needed and wanted. I could relate to Kerry on that deeper level even having never shared her life experiences. I think most of us can relate to her story in that way. We all at some point feel like the outsider, like we do not fit in. We may feel invisible or alone in this world. We seek approval. We want to be loved and feel needed.

Kerry Cohen’s Loose Girl: A Memoir of Promiscuity was a moving and heartfelt story of one girl’s struggle with her own desires and needs. She sought to be loved not really understanding what love was, mistaking it for sex. The more she gave of herself physically, the more of herself she held back, unable to truly let herself be loved and to love fully. The author’s writing style flows smoothly, and I found it impossible not to form an attachment to the author the more of her story I read. She writes from the perspective of where she was at the time the story was taking place, with occasional bits of hindsight added on. I felt this was an effective manner of telling her story.

The author offers no “cure” or big “aha!” moment in the end. She is not looking to offer anyone a boiler plate solution because there is none. Kerry’s own story and struggles are ongoing. There is no quick fix. I liked that about this book. It is real and honest. After finishing the book, I rushed to her website to see what she is doing now, to see if her story had a happy ending.

Rating: (Very Good)

At this moment, I suddenly want to change everything that is me, the observer part, and move from something else: the living-your-life part. When does that start exactly? And something else. I look into the mirror and someone else says: What are you doing here? You have no right to live. [pg 145]

Apples and Oranges: My Brother and Me, Lost and Found by Marie Brenner
Sarah Crichton Books, 2008
Nonfiction (Memoir); 268 pgs

I was three when my brother entered this world. My mother had to be rushed to the hospital, nearly dropping my brother out right there in the hospital parking lot. My father’s parents were visiting, my grandmother watching me while my parents were away. I remember my father coming home with a grin on his face. It’s a boy! My brother and I were like most other brother and sister pairs, friends one minute, playing in the dirt together or taking to the high seas on our boats made of furniture in the living room, to mortal enemies the next, struggling over who would sit in the passenger seat of the car. As we got older, we grew closer; while at other times we seemed to grow farther apart, family circumstances bringing us together but also keeping us at arms distance.

I have this image of me as the older sister, the protector and the one who had to set the good example. My brother was the youngest child, the only boy, and the one who got away with more. While early on that bothered me, later it seemed the natural way of things–how it works in families–and my brother deserved a break. His was a battle that seemed uphill more so than mine. Our story is an old and familiar one. Life as it was went on for both of us. Our relationship was one that ebbed and flowed like the tide. In recent years, we have not had much of a relationship at all. We are both to blame. There are reasons, some obvious and others less so, none of which I will go into here.

Marie Brenner is a well respected journalist having accomplished much in her career. Her work on an exposé entitled “The Man Who Knew Too Much” was the basis for the movie The Insider, which took a hard look at tobacco company practices. She has built a life on asking questions and telling stories. Her brother Carl had been a trial attorney at one time who later in life chose to give that up and grow apples and pears much to the surprise of his family.

Marie was the polar opposite of her brother. She was liberal where he was conservative. She preferred city life while Carl felt most at home in the country surrounded by his orchards. Marie was married with a child. Carl was more of a lady’s man. He liked things just so and preferred a quiet life. Marie was constantly on the go, searching out details and looking for meaning. Both were stubborn and set in their ways, believing the other was wrong more often than not. The two may have held different beliefs and ideas and lived very different lives, but they were both very similar as well.

Marie Brenner and her brother Carl have always had a difficult relationship. They spoke just about every week; however, their conversations almost always turned into arguments. The constant bickering and lack of connection between them weighed heavily on Marie, especially after learning that her brother had cancer. Suddenly, she wanted nothing more than to connect with him, to understand him and to be there for him. She set out to make that happen, deciding to surprise him with an extended visit. She left her home in New York and headed for Washington. Marie studied up on apples and orchards with the intention of using the information to get close to her brother, but her constant questions and search for knowledge often seemed more like a way to avoid talking about the real issues that lingered between them.

Marie and Carl’s story was one that crept up on me. I had trouble settling into it at first. I wasn’t sure what to think of Marie, and it took me a while to warm up to her. I connected with Carl much more quickly despite his more curmudgeonly manner. Carl’s struggle with cancer, his will to live, along with his resilience and strength, hit close to home for me with my friend’s recent battle with cancer. The lack of availability of treatment options despite the fact that they may exist (albeit not in perfect form) must be so frustrating for families in similar situations who only want to exhaust all means before it is too late.

I was most drawn into the Brenner family history, learning about Carl and Marie’s father and his relationship with his siblings as well as that of their parents. History was repeating itself. The strain between Milton Brenner and his sister, Anita, was being played out in Marie and Carl’s own relationship.

The author’s story unfolds bit by bit, interweaving past and present. Where one began and the other ended was not always clear. The writing is stylish and poetic at times, almost a stream of consciousness. Marie Brenner effectively was able get across her own fear and the control she was trying to maintain as she dealt with her brother’s illness, her frustration with both herself and her brother for not having a closer relationship, and her attempts at developing a closer bond with him before it was too late.

So many years went by where sister and brother constantly battled with each other, their own egos and stubbornness getting in the way. It was not until her brother’s diagnosis of cancer that the two reached out for each other, already with so many years lost in between. Marie did grow and mature during the course of the book, and by the end, I felt a kinship with her. I could see bits and pieces of my own relationship with my brother in her relationship with Carl. I understood better what she was going through and what she had been trying to achieve with her brother. Both she and Carl made mistakes as we all do in our own relationships. Even when they didn’t recognize it, they shared a bond and loved each other as only a brother and sister can.

Apples and Oranges: My Brother an Me, Lost and Found demonstrates the strength and fragility of familial ties. It is a story of love and redemption and of hope and perseverance.

Rating: (Good +)

The Suspicions of Mr. Whicher: A Shocking Murder and the Undoing of a Great Victorian Detective by Kate Summerscale

Pages: 304
Finished: July 26, 2008
First Published: Apr. 2008
Genre: true crime, nonfiction, history
Awards: Samuel Johnson Award for Nonfiction 2008
Rating: 4.5/5

First sentence:

This is the story of a murder committed in an English country house in 1860, perhaps the most disturbing murder of its time.

Comments: This is a most ambitious book which documents the murder case of a three year old boy, is a biography of one of the very first police detectives and shows how this murder and this particular detective spurred on the very first detective fiction such as that written by Wilkie Collins. The book succeeds on all points and is a riveting and incredibly interesting read.

The murder is quite memorable in this time period because it is the first time that public attention focused on a murder committed in a middle class home where one of the inhabitants of the home must be the murderer. At this time in England a man’s home was literally his castle and the recent ruling that allowed police to enter one’s home without the owner’s specific permission was absolutely shocking to the middle and upper classes.

The author takes the reader back to this time period (1860s onward) and expertly discusses the mindset and proprieties of the day which make the understanding of why this case was so scandalous for its time. The formation and early days of policing, plus the introduction of “detectives” into the force is fascinating, as is the life of the firstly lauded then scorned Detective-Inspector Jonathan Whicher. The references to the detective novels which were just starting to replace the sensationalist fiction of the previous generations is fascinating to the reader of Victorian literature. Wilkie Collins’ “The Woman in White”, Dickens’ “Bleak House” and several books by a popular writer of the times known only as ‘Waters’ are quoted and referred to often, though many other books are also mentioned.

The book profusely uses direct quotes from contemporary sources such as newspapers, broadsheets, books, trial documents, journals, letters, etc. There are also a few helpful footnotes along the way and an extensive ‘Notes’ section at the back, along with illustrations, photographs, and endpapers that show the schematics of the house the reader is immersed in the time period.

Well written in an engaging voice and obviously well-researched this is a gem of a book for those interested in Victorian life. Though the book focuses on a true crime and the police procedures of the time there is a wealth of information on all aspects of life in the time period. I also went into this book not knowing anything about the murder case itself and found the revealing of the investigation and eventually the killer to be as exciting as any mystery novel. Highly recommended.

The Suspicions of Mr. Whicher by Kate Summerscale

Summerscale has written a very interesting book about the history of detectives, real and fictional, as well as investigating a true murder that scandalized Victorian England in 1860. The subtitle is “A Shocking Murder and the Undoing of a Great Victoria Detective.”

The murder was of three year old Saville Kent, killed during the night while he slept. The shocking part was that it had to be a member of the household who killed him. The great Victorian detective was Jack Whicher, one of the first members of London’s detective squad. The research in this book was amazing, although I read it straight through and did not refer to the copious notes at the back for the reference source. Because it was a scandalous murder in a time of increasing media, there was certainly a lot of material written about the murder and the characters for Summerscale to use. At the time, England was entranced with the details of the murder and trials in the newspapers. The telgraph made information more immediately available and the public could not get enough of the sordid details. The critics bemoaned the downfall of society and the general decline of morals. Sound familiar to today?

Throughout the book, the author parallels the development of detectives and the detective novel. I am anxious to read something by Wilkie Collins now, as his mystery novels were referenced the whole way through, as well as Charles Dickens, a friend of Whicher’s. It’s hard to imagine a time when Sherlock Holmes and Hercule Poirot were new literary characters, but until Poe’s detective Auguste Dupin in 1841, the detective was not invented. The first real detectives weren’t hired in London until 1842, so they were still quite a new commodity at the time of the murder and conflicted with the idea of privacy in Victorian days as well as highlighting the class situations between middle, upper and working classes.

The time of the murder, 1860 is such a fascinating time. It is far enough away that it seems long ago, but recent enough that so much information is still available. One of the sisters of the murdered child lived to be 100, so it wasn’t until 1944 that she died. There are some great pictures and relics included in the book.

This would be a great book for people who like reading true crime mysteries, readers of detective novels, Victorian era fans, and well researched nonfiction books. I had originally planned to slowly pick away at the book, a little bit every day, but by page 100 I had to keep reading and find out the ending. Great suspense and pacing in the book to describe each of the characters and what happened to them after the murder.

300 pages, plus 50 pages of notes and bibliography

4/5

Losing It - And Gaining My Life Back One Pound at a Time by Valerie Bertinelli

Pages: 273
First Published: Feb, 2008
Genre: autobiography, memoir
Rating: 2/5

Reason for Reading: I enjoyed watching One Day at a Time as a child and always though Valerie was beautiful. Needing to loose weight myself, I though her weight loss story might be inspiring.

First sentence:

Some people measure depression by the medication they take or the number of times per week they see a therapist.

Comments: This is more of a memoir than an autobiography. While it does go chronologically Valerie only tells bits and pieces of her life. Running throughout the book she talks about her poor body image even as a skinny teenager, though she didn’t start dieting until she started gaining weight at a much older age. I was very disappointed in this book.

Valerie’s acting career is skimmed over mercilessly. One Day at a Time gets a brief discussion, Touched by an Angel gets even less page time and her many made-for-TV movies are only mentioned by name. Most of the book is spent talking about Eddie Van Halen’s various drug and alcohol problems along with his volatile relationships with the various lead singers of the group. Valerie talks of how this affected her and her family but there is so much of it that it became boring especially since I have absolutely zero interest in this rock group to begin with.

Valerie’s weight loss and Jenny Craig experience was relegated to the last two chapters and very quickly told from the first phone call to the final results. I was hoping this book would be an inspiring weight loss story, instead I found her words made it sound so easy and fast and simple to lose weight. “Hey, just call Jenny!” … yeah, right.

I will give her credit for being candid in this memoir. She didn’t skip over the ugly parts and talks about her own drug use and adultery. I was surprised with the profanity in the book, though. This probably won’t bother most people but there was more than I was comfortable with. I do not like swearing in narratives and I guess I just didn’t expect Valerie to be the type to cuss so much.

If you want to read the story of a woman who survived a rock star marriage and an alcoholic and drug abuser husband then you will probably enjoy this book. But if you are looking for the story of Valerie’s acting career or looking for weight loss inspiration this is not the book for you.

For me, this is the essence of life: Accepting the situation for the reality of what it truly is ad accomplishing what needs to be done to advance oneself for the greater good of all, no matter cost or sacrifice. [excerpt from the book]

Moving Forward: Taking The Lead in Your Life by Dave Pelzer
Center Street, June 2008 (ARE)
Nonfiction (Self-Help); 192 pgs

I haven’t a clue how to review a book like this. Self-help books cater to the individual on a very personal level, often times requiring deep thought and inner reflection. The questions we ask ourselves and the thoughts we ponder as we read a book like this are not always easy ones to face—some we may not even come to consider until long after finishing a book, particularly if we decide to apply it to our lives.

There’s also the problem that not everyone will hear the message the author is trying to convey. There could be a lot of reasons for that. Perhaps the person is not ready yet or maybe the message is not one the reader needs to learn. It could be, too, that the author’s method and style do not connect with the person trying to take in the information. That is no one’s fault, of course, just a fact of life.

Quite frankly, I do not often read self-help books. Rarely, actually. I could count on one hand the number of self-help books I have read. I guess it says something that I remember them though, doesn’t it? It is just not a book category that I gravitate towards in general. I do love to read inspirational stories, but usually those come in the form of a novel or memoir.

Whenever I begin a self-help book, my hackles automatically go up. Who is this person and why does he or she think they can tell me something about myself that I don’t already know? I know me best, after all. Eventually, the writer wins me over though and I start to pay closer attention. I may not always learn something I did not know, but I do find validation, inspiration, and sometimes even get a kick in the pants to motivate me to change or do whatever it is I need to do.

When I was offered the chance to read and review Dave Pelzer’s latest book, Moving Forward: Taking the Lead in Your Life, I was a little hesitant. Did I really want to read a self-help book right now? Would I gain anything from the experience or would it be a waste of my time? After careful consideration, I decided to give it a chance. I admit the identity of the author played a huge part in my final decision to give it a try. Dave Pelzer is a man I admire and respect, and I was interested in hearing what he had to say.

I first came across Dave Pelzer years ago when I was encouraged to read his first book, A Child Called It, the author’s account of his abusive childhood. I went on to read two more of this books, The Lost Boy, about the author’s time in the foster care system, and A Man Named Dave, the author’s entry into adulthood and in coming to terms with his past.

A Child Called It and The Lost Boy are staples in my office. The books make the rounds every other year or so, new people encountering them, reveling in the author’s story—not because of the terrible childhood Dave Pelzer had to endure, but more so because of what an inspiration Dave Pelzer became. Despite all odds, he rose above a terrible past to make something of himself and to give back to society. He served in the United Air Force and has worked with at risk youth much of his life. He offers hope to abused and neglected children—and hope to those of us who are trying to work with and help those kids. He doesn’t reach out to just those kids or people who have been abused, however. Dave Pelzer speaks to all of us.

In his book, Moving Forward, Mr. Pelzer makes a point of saying that he is not just the “child-abuse” guy. His life story is not so much about what happened to him as it is about his journey to move forward in life. It is all of our stories, really. We all have made mistakes, been through difficult times, and felt helpless at one point or another. It is what we do in these situations, how we react to the baggage we collect throughout our lives, that either will land us in a rut or help us achieve our goals in life.

Mr. Pelzer’s ideas and philosophies are not too different from my own. I decided long ago not to be a victim. I would not let my past hold me back nor would I let it get the better of me. That isn’t to say that there haven’t been difficult times, times when I wanted the world to go on without me or felt like nothing I could say or do was right. There are times when it is easier to just take things as they come instead of taking the reins and being an active player in my own life.

There were two parts of Mr. Pelzer’s book that spoke to me the loudest. One part was about being a good leader, a mentor and a hero. As a supervisor who doesn’t always feel up to the task, I am striving constantly to be a better leader—to be fair and just. The other had to do with standing up for what you believe, not always falling into people-pleaser mode, something I am guilty of doing all too often.

The author is rather blunt in manner, taking the say-it-is approach, and uses humor as a tool for connecting with his readers. He shares his own life experiences, offering them as examples where he has failed or succeeded at doing the right thing. He is not afraid to admit his mistakes. He learns from them and moves on, a message he repeats throughout his book.

Moving Forward will not appeal to everyone, but it certainly will motivate and inspire many. Much of what the author writes about is common sense. Dave Pelzer encourages readers to take charge of their lives and strive to be the best they can be. He acknowledges that this is not something that can be done overnight; but, with time and effort, it is a goal everyone can strive for with the right mindset. When all is said and done, I am glad I took the time to read Mr. Pelzer’s Moving Forward.

Rating: (Good)

The Girl in Saskatoon: A Meditation on Memory and Murder
by Sharon Butala

Pages: 260
First Published: March, 2008
Genre: memoir, True Crime
Rating: DNF

First sentence:

One soft spring evening in 1962 a young nurse named Alexandra Wiwcharuk wasmurdered and an entire city came to a stop: Alexandra’s murder was all anyonecould talk about.

Comments: With that promising first sentence, I was interested to read about this true crime and the unfortunate girl who was murdered. Unfortunately, this book was all about the author. I couldn’t finish it. I got to page 104 and had not learnt anything about the crime that was not stated in that first sentence. I don’t normally write about books I don’t finish, but since this was sent to me as a Review Copy I feel obligated to give my opinion however short. The author spends the majority of this book (the part I read) comparing her life to the victim’s, how they were similar and how they were different. I didn’t care for the author’s voice and was mostly bored with the narrative. If you are looking for True Crime, this is not the book for you.

July, 2005. It was the summer of her Chevette, of J.P. and letting her hair grow. The last summer, the best summer, the summer they’d dreamed of since eighth grade, the high and pride of being seniors lingering , an extension of their best year. She and Nina and Elise, the Three Amigos. In the fall they were gone, off to college, where she hoped, a long and steady effort, she might become someone else, a private, independent person, someone not from Kingsville at all. -From Songs for the Missing, page 1-

In the summer of her 18th year, Kim Larsen disappears without a trace - leaving behind friends and family who are bewildered and hurting. This is not an unusual story. It is a story we see every day in America - the young women filled with potential disappearing into the darkness of uncertainty. Many are never found. Many are found murdered or raped. It is an old story. Stewart O’Nan, with his refined and elegant prose, takes this story and makes it unforgettable.

Songs for the Missing is about those left behind. It is about relationships and expectations and faith and the very human need to know why and where. The characters in this beautifully written novel include Kim’s mother Fran, her sister Lindsey (only 15 when Kim goes missing), her father Ed, and friends - J.P., Elise and Nina. Each character deals with Kim’s disappearance differently, and as the months rolls into years they each come to terms with it in their own unique way. My heart felt broken by Ed - the father who searches relentlessly for the daughter he could not keep safe and who wishes for her to come to him in his dreams.

One reason he didn’t take the pill was that he longed for a dream of Kim. He didn’t expect her to tell him what had happened, he just wanted to see her again, to be in her presence as if she were alive and none of this had happened. Every night he went to bed hoping she’d come to him. Every morning he was disappointed. -From Songs for the Missing-

This novel touched my heart, especially because of my own involvement with Search and Rescue. O’Nan got it perfectly when he describes the searches, the role of law enforcement and the nearly unbearable hope of the lost one’s family which permeates every search. As the novel unfolds, I found myself immersed in the emotions of the characters, hoping they would find Kim and come to a resolution.

O’Nan has written a tender, sensitive and all too real novel about what happens when a loved one disappears. Highly recommended.

Matt Rogers

218 pages

Zondervan Publishers

From the Publisher:

On April 16, 2007, the campus of Virginia Tech experienced a collective nightmare when thirty-three students were killed in the worst massacre in modern U.S. history. Following that horrendous event, VA Tech campus pastor Matt Rogers found himself asking and being asked, Where is God in all of this?The cliché-ridden, pat answers rang hollow. In this beautifully written reflection, Rogers illumines the path for experiencing God as truly good when life isn’t.

My thoughts:

This is beautifully written book that ponders the question that most of us have asked at some point in our life. How can God be good and loving when bad things like the events at Virginia Tech happen?

We go through the year after the tragedy with Matt Rogers.

In the first section of the book, which is titled A Heavy, Sinking, Sadness: Embracing The World That Is , the author recounts the shock, horror and then the tremendous pain and grief of the people connected with Virginia Tech. This section brings sharply into focus the fact that life is finite. A person can literally be here one moment and gone the next. This is a very heavy section but then tragedy and grief are very heavy subjects.

The next section is called Echoes of Eden: Embracing the World that Was. In this section we walk with Matt as he embraces the gifts all around him. The gift of creation, the kindness of people. He travels to Colorado and Japan in an effort to distance himself from the tragedy. Both trips are through the kindness of people. His experience with nature is healing and draws him to God. His conclusion is that:

Nature reminds us of the world that was, but that’s just it: that world is no more. Even the leftovers are infected. It is not enough to embrace the world that is, nor to remember that which was. My need, the great need of us all, is to know that there is a better world to come. -When Answers Aren’t Enough- page 146

This leads us into the final section of the book entitled Breathless Expectation: Imagining the World that Will Be where the author discusses Heaven and the fact that we are caught between two worlds. We live here and now and we suffer. But, as Christians, we wait in joyful hope for the restoration of all things and the return of Christ.

I found this book honest and at times, heart-wrenching. But in the end, it is also eminently hopeful. It didn’t offer up canned responses, it did exactly as I hoped it would. It pointed to the Creator. I would highly recommend this book to anyone grieving.(5/5)

Glimpses of shared humanity make it so hard to kill others. -From Laughing Without An Accent, page 219-

And if it’s one thing I hope we Iranians have imparted, it is the closeness of extended family, not because we all get along perfectly, but because we know that we all benefit emotionally from maintaining those ties. -From Laughing Without An Accent, page 160-

Firoozeh Dumas has written a very funny, immensely insightful memoir about growing up as an Iranian living in America. Dumas immigrated to America at the age of seven with her mother, father and brother and so retains memories of both her childhood in the small Iranian town of Abadan as well as her youth in California.

Laughing Without An Accent is Dumas’ second novel (she published Funny in Farsi in 2003 to rave reviews). It is a collection of vignettes which give the reader insight into the melding of cultures and the struggles (often humorous) of immigrants living in the United States. Her stories reflect the difference between the generations in how immigrants adapt to life in another culture - and her affectionate and hilarious reflections on her parents were some of my favorite parts of the book, such as when Dumas and her French husband host Christmas at their home in San Francisco:

My parents always buy wrapping paper on sale, paying attention only to the pretty colors. As Francois held his stack of gifts, all emblazoned with “Happy Birthday!” and “Congratulations, Graduate!” he looked a bit puzzled. A steep learning curve lay head of him. -From Laughing Without An Accent, page 97-

Dumas’ memoir strikes just the right balance between lightheartedness and reflection on deeper issues. When she shares that “the only time I felt like a complete foreigner was in college,” the reader sympathizes. Likewise, her recollections of the Iranian Hostage Crisis and how it impacted her family filled me with dismay at the prejudice towards immigrants which came about as a result of that event.

Witty, warm and compassionate - Laughing Without An Accent is a memoir worth reading.

Recommended;

The Prince of Frogtown by Rick Bragg
Nonfiction - Memoir
2008 Knopf
Finished on 3/30/08
Rating: 2/5 (Fair)
ARC - Due out on May 6, 2008

Book Description

In this final volume of the beloved American saga that began with All Over but the Shoutin’ and continued with Ava’s Man, Rick Bragg closes his circle of family stories with an unforgettable tale about fathers and sons inspired by his own relationship with his ten-year-old stepson.

He learns, right from the start, that a man who chases a woman with a child is like a dog who chases a car and wins. He discovers that he is unsuited to fatherhood, unsuited to fathering this boy in particular, a boy who does not know how to throw a punch and doesn’t need to; a boy accustomed to love and affection rather than violence and neglect; in short, a boy wholly unlike the child Rick once was, and who longs for a relationship with Rick that Rick hasn’t the first inkling of how to embark on. With the weight of this new boy tugging at his clothes, Rick sets out to understand his father, his son, and himself.

The Prince of Frogtown documents a mesmerizing journey back in time to the lush Alabama landscape of Rick’s youth, to Jacksonville’s one-hundred-year-old mill, the town’s blight and salvation; and to a troubled, charismatic hustler coming of age in its shadow, Rick’s father, a man bound to bring harm even to those he truly loves. And the book documents the unexpected corollary to it, the marvelous journey of Rick’s later life: a journey into fatherhood, and toward a child for whom he comes to feel a devotion that staggers him. With candor, insight, tremendous humor, and the remarkable gift for descriptive storytelling on which he made his name, Rick Bragg delivers a brilliant and moving rumination on the lives of boys and men, a poignant reflection on what it means to be a father and a son.

It’s been almost a decade since I first heard of Rick Bragg. I absolutely loved his first memoir, All Over but the Shoutin’, savoring the beautifully crafted sentences, laughing and crying my way through the entire book. It’s one of the first memoirs I’d ever read and I was so moved by Bragg’s story and writing, I bought several copies to give at Christmastime that year.

When Ava’s Man was about to come out, a former co-worker sent me an Advance Reader’s Copy. I couldn’t wait to return to Bragg’s lyrical writing and quickly finished the book I was reading. Unfortunately, I couldn’t get past the first few chapters of Ava’s Man, despite two separate attempts. I was so disappointed!

So when that same friend sent me an ARC of The Prince of Frogtown, I was a little more prepared when it, too, failed to live up to All Over But the Shoutin’. However, unlike with Ava’s Man, I stuck with it, determined to read the entire book. (Which I did, although I have to admit that did skim a chapter or two.)

In water so fine, a few minutes of bad memory all but disappear downstream, washed away by ten thousand belly busters, a million cannonballs. Paradise was never heaven-high when I was a boy but waist-deep, an oasis of cutoff blue jeans and raggedy Converse sneakers, sweating bottles of Nehi Grape and Orange Crush, and this stream. I remember the antidote of icy water against my blistered skin, and the taste of mushy tomato and mayonnaise sandwiches, unwrapped from twice-used aluminum foil. I saw my first water moccasin here, and my first real girl, and being a child of the foot washers, I have sometimes wondered if this was my Eden, and my serpent. If it was, I didn’t hold out any longer than that first poor fool did. It took something as powerful as that, as girls to tug me away from this tribe of sunburned little boys, to scatter us from this place of double-dog dares, Blow Pops, Cherry Bombs, Indian burns, chicken fights, and giggling, half-wit choruses of “Bald-Headed Man from China.” Maybe we should have nailed up a sign–NO GIRLS ALLOWED–and lived out our lives here, to fight mean bulls from the safe side of a barbed-wire fence with a cape cut from a red tank top, and duel to the death with swords sliced of a weeping willow tree. I don’t know what kind of man I turned out to be, but I was good at being a boy.

And so begins The Prince of Frogtown. I love the way Bragg writes. It’s impossible to read his words and think he’s from anywhere but the South. His sentences have a cadence that make me want to read them over and over again, listening as I would to a favorite song.

It was the year I realized the TV preachers’ rants on hell were all wrong, that the devil lives in Alabama, and swims in a Mason jar. He lost his looks, drank his paychecks, wrecked his old cars, and stiffed the Tennessee Valley Electric until all they would give us was free dark.

My biggest complaint lies not in the writing, but the focus of The Prince of Frogtown. I wish Bragg had written more about his relationship with his stepson and less about his father. But obviously, as the title tells us, the book is really more about the latter, with short (2-3 page) vignettes about his stepson. And yet I wonder if I really would have liked it better if the emphasis were more on his own parenting, than the lack of his father’s. In spite of the lyrical prose, there were times I thought, I don’t really like this man (Rick, not Charles) at all. I was really put off by Bragg’s initial attitude toward his young stepson. He didn’t understand the boy, felt he was pampered and spoiled by his mother, and he doesn’t hesitate to tell the reader just how he feels about his new life as a husband and father.

I was born into a people who could cuss the horns off a bull, before revival and after dinner on the ground, but he lived in a world rated G with candy sprinkles on top.

And there were times when I though he was downright mean-spirited toward the boy. After reading the following blurb from a Kirkus review, I see I’m not the only one who had these same reservations about the book:

Alternating chapters on his unnamed stepson, by contrast, resound more with the annoyance Bragg feels at the start than the love he professes at the end, at which point the author sounds uncomfortably self-congratulatory about the maturation of his stepson, now “the man I rushed him to be.”

Personally, I’d rather be a pampered and spoiled child than grow up amongst dog-fighting, cock-fighting, gambling drunks.

Bragg’s love for the boy he calls his son begins to show itself toward the end of the book, tugging at my heartstrings in spite of myself:

I waited for him, as he got older, to torture me with rap, or heavy metal, or plastic top forty. But one day he heard Johnny Cash, and his life changed. I heard him in his room, singing “Get Rhythm” and “Folsom Prison Blues.”

He sings well. His voice is deep, strong. He sings from the backseat. He sings to the dog. I stood in the kitchen recently and watched him sing as he walked around in the yard. It was one of the finer moments in my life.

And, I couldn’t help but chuckle when he poked fun at women:

He does not like girls, yet.

“Why do they talk so fast?” he asked me. “I can’t understand what they say.”

“That’s all right, boy,” I said. “You won’t be able to understand them when they talk slow, either.”

But the sprinkles of humor and touching sentiments are few and far between. I’ll be interested to see what others think of the book once it’s published. Meanwhile, All Over But the Shoutin’ remains one of my all-time favorite memoirs. It might just be time for another reading.

The Middle Place by Kelly Corrigan
Memoir
Finished 12/3/07
Rating: 4/5 (Very good)
ARC - Book due out on January 8, 2008

Publisher’s Blurb:

In humorous, incandescent prose, Kelly Corrigan alternates tales of growing up Corrigan with the story of her life and her father’s today as they each–successfully, for now–battle cancer. A book that reminds us of the good things in life, The Middle Place examines the universal themes of family, adulthood, and how we all must, inevitably, make the leap to the other side and grow up.

Book Description:

For Kelly Corrigan, family is everything. At thirty-six, she had a marriage that worked, a couple of funny, active kids, and a weekly newspaper column. But even as a thriving adult, Kelly still saw herself as George Corrigan’s daughter. A garrulous Irish-American charmer from Baltimore, George was the center of the ebullient, raucous Corrigan clan. He greeted every day by opening his bedroom window and shouting, “Hello, World!” Suffice it to say, Kelly’s was a colorful childhood, just the sort a girl could get attached to. Kelly lives deep within what she calls the Middle Place — “that sliver of time when parenthood and childhood overlap” — comfortably wedged between her adult duties and her parents’ care. But she’s abruptly shoved into a coming-of-age when she finds a lump in her breast — and gets the diagnosis no one wants to hear. And so Kelly’s journey to full-blown adulthood begins. When George, too, learns he has late-stage cancer, it is Kelly’s turn to take care of the man who had always taken care of her — and show us a woman as she finally takes the leap and grows up. Kelly Corrigan is a natural-born storyteller, a gift you quickly recognize as her father’s legacy, and her stories are rich with everyday details. She captures the beat of an ordinary life and the tender, sometimes fractious moments that bind families together. Rueful and honest, Kelly is the prized friend who will tell you her darkest, lowest, screwiest thoughts, and then later, dance on the coffee table at your party. Funny, yet heart-wrenching, The Middle Place is about being a parent and a child at the same time. It is about the special double-vision you get when you are standing with one foot in each place. It is about the family you make and the family you came from — and locating, navigating, and finally celebrating the place where they meet. It is about reaching for life with both hands — and finding it.

Two years ago, at the age of 41, my younger brother was diagnosed with rectal cancer. We had just experienced the absolute worst loss of our lives, only to learn of Chris’ cancer 6 weeks after Rachel’s death. We were stunned beyond belief. After two rounds of chemo, radiation, and radical surgery, Chris is now, thankfully, cancer-free. Somewhere along the line, in my quest to become more knowledgeable about this particular cancer (to learn how to help my brother emotionally, as well as educate myself about my increased risk as a sibling), I stumbled upon a particularly informative website. While CircusOfCancer is a site for those seeking information about breast cancer rather than colo-rectal cancer, it provided me with an insider’s view to chemo, radiation, how to talk to friends with cancer, etc. I was moved by the story behind the website and read everything posted, including the photo essays. Little did I know, two years down the road I’d pick up an Advanced Reader’s Copy of Kelly Corrigan’s memoir, only to discover that she was the creator of CircusOfCancer! What a small world.

Corrigan is a marvelous storyteller, drawing you into her family and home with the ease of a seasoned writer. When I finished the book, I felt as if I’d met her in person, trading stories about family and love and fear and loss. In typical fashion, I read with a packet of sticky notes in hand and wound up with a dozen or so pages marked for a second reading. This first passage is from the Prologue:

…I called my parents from the maternity ward and cried through the following: “Mom, Dad, it’s a girl, and Dad, we named her after you. We named her Georgia.”

Three years after that, almost to the day, I called home to tell my parents that I had cancer.

And that’s what this whole thing is about. Calling home. Instinctively. Even when all the paperwork–a marriage license, a notarized deed, two birth certificates, and seven years of tax returns–clearly indicates you’re an adult, but all the same, there you are, clutching the phone and thanking God that you’re still somebody’s daughter.

I especially like this brief passage:

I get another e-mail from a particularly grown-up friend of mine, Jen Komosa. She just says, “You are stronger than you think. You are strong enough.”

Such truth in these simple words. I never thought I could survive the loss of one of our children and I’m sure there were times when my brother thought he couldn’t survive the rigors of cancer treatment. But it’s amazing what the heart and mind and body can endure. We are all stronger than we think.

I like the cadence of these particular paragraphs:

There is fear, like the moment before a car accident or the jolt that shoots through you when you see your baby slip under water, and there is pain, like whacking your head into a cabinet door left open or the quiver in your shoulders as you carry your end of the sofa up those last few stairs, fingers slipping. And then there is pain and fear together, like delivery a baby or standing up for the first time after surgery. Until they tell you it’s working, chemo is like that, pain and fear, fear and pain, alternating relentlessly.

Yesterday, I took eighteen pills in twenty-four hours for everything from the well-known side effects like nausea and fatigue to the secret ones like runaway infections and tear-jerking constipation. Each side effect can be treated with medication, which usually has its own side effect. For nausea: Zofran. For the constipation caused by Zofran: laxatives and stool softeners. To ward of infection and stabilize your white blood cell counts: Neupogen. For the deep bone pain caused by Neupogen: Vicodin, which in turn causes nausea and drowsiness. And there you are, right back where you started.

I nodded my head in agreement when I read this:

I envy my dad his faith. I envy all people who have someone to beseech, who know where they’re going, who sleep under the fluffy white comforter of belief.

I remember feeling this way after Rachel died. And I remember feeling like this, too:

I feel different from everyone these days. Words are loaded now–people who were “so sick they wanted to die,” who ate “so much they wanted to puke,” who hope someone will “take them out back and shoot them” before they get old and infirm.

And yet, as I relate to quite a bit of Kelly’s thoughts and feelings, I became annoyed when I read the following passage (her response to learning she would need to begin hormone therapy in order to temporarily eliminate estrogen from her system, thus postponing the possibility of any more children for five more years):

I shake my head. “They talked about cancer like it was something to get through, to treat, to beat.” They never said it was going to change everything, all my plans, and take things away from me that I have wanted since I was a child. “They said it was gonna be a bad year. So doesn’t that mean when the bad year is over, when you do everything you are told to do–and with a goddamn smile no less–you get to go back to the life you had?”

Finally, I just stare ahead. I’m so mad and so tired at the same time.

“I thought that was what I was here for–to raise a bunch of kids,” I say as we get closer to home.

I wanted to reach through the pages and past and shake this young woman and tell her she should be thankful to be alive. Thankful to have two beautiful daughters, a loving husband, devoted parents and friends and relatives who love her deeply. I wanted to tell her that while my brother is also a cancer survivor, he didn’t get to go back to the life he once had either, but he’s deeply grateful for his life, physically altered though it may be.

I can’t begin to imagine how I’d personally handle the diagnosis and treatment of cancer, but I did watch my brother ride the emotional rollercoaster for the longest year of his life. I’d like to think that Kelly’s reaction to the hormone therapy was exacerbated by the stress and emotional fragility of that long year in her life and that she can now appreciate how truly blessed she is to have what she has.

And now to jump on my soap box — Many, many cancers are treatable, if detected early. If you are 50 or older, get a colonoscopy! I had one two years ago (six years sooner than normal, but highly recommended due to the hereditary risk as a sibling), and quite honestly, it’s not a big deal. I was alseep through the entire procedure and the prep the day before was certainly tolerable. I’d gladly have that test once every five years if it prevents the ill effects of chemo (nausea, chemo brain, neuropathy, mouth sores, etc.), not to mention prolonging my life.

Pete Gall
293 pages

“I wonder what it would be like to wake up and be with other people who are awake–to live with less fear, fewer lies, less compulsive consumption and all the other junk that keeps us anesthetized. I wonder if there are people who actually live that way. Weirdos, I’m sure.” -My Beautiful Idol pg 20

With that, the author leaves a good paying job in advertising and heads off to change the world for God. He ends up working in a rehab program, as a pastor’s assistant in an urban church, at a group home for mentally-disabled men, for a ministry program, and as a plumbing salesman.

His encounters with fellow Christians are at times comical and at other times heart-breaking. The hardest parts are when you recognize yourself in the people he meets and in his struggles and you understand that we often do good things for totally wrong reasons.

I found this book challenging as I followed the author from the brashness of youth and a desire to make a difference to the more mellow faith that is slightly tempered by life experiences. He does an excellent job of illustrating how we each hide behind our “things” and how God is rarely how we expect him to be. However, He is always there. The arguments are not always simple and I’ll admit that there were a couple of times that I had a hard time following. It was worth the effort though. (4/5)

It is almost always easier to learn about history through historical fiction or current world events through memoirs, and this book is no exception. Daoud Hari gives us a harrowing account of his experiences translating for various media outlets in the Darfur region. The violence in Darfur, especially toward women and children, is unspeakable. Though not overly graphic, it is still difficult to read in spots.

Similar to the plight of the Kurds, the people of Darfur have had their lives shattered due to boundaries set by people not of their region. This brief, engaging book will not only enlighten you to the situation in Darfur, but will also make you question the wisdom of meddling in other countries’ affairs at all.

2008, 189 pp.
Rating: 4

The Quirks and Quarks Guide to Space by Jim Lebans
42 Questions (and Answers) About Life, The Universe, and Everything

If you are lucky enough to get CBC radio, you probably already know about Quirks and Quarks, the science show on Saturdays. Host Bob MacDonald explains all the newest scientific discoveries, in everyday language and with humor. I was very excited to see this book released, and it is going to have a prominent place on my desk at school. During physics classes, the most amazing questions can be asked, and I don’t know the answer to many of them, astronomy not being my strong suit. I may even start reading a chapter out loud every day or so, because this is the stuff that people want to know.

To give you an idea of the tone of the book, which is very readable, the opening quote is from Douglas Adams, “Space is big. Really big…..” Lebans, a producer with the Quirks and Quarks show, tackles 42 questions and then answers them. Where does space begin? (100km above Earth) Can I run fast and jump into orbit? (theoretically, but not really) What moons are worth visiting? ( Jupiter’s Europa, and Saturn’s Titan might be very interesting) and How fast are we moving through space? (it’s all relative to what else is moving, but pretty fast)

Lebans does a great job of explaining why Pluto isn’t a planet anymore, and what might happen if you fell into a black hole, which involves ’spaghettifying.’ I first heard that phrase when watching ‘A Brief History of Time,’ the documentary based on Stephen Hawking’s book of the same name. I am not up to date enough to know if everything is accurate, but since science changes so rapidly, I’ll assume it is good for now. I plan to reread some of the Big Bang Theory questions later, and I hope I’ll be lending this out to those inquisitive students who love physics.

For those of us living in the United States, the suffering that goes on in other parts of the world is unimaginable. Darfur is one of the places where such suffering takes place. Genocide is occurring there and military power is constantly shifting. The reasons for this are complicated. However, this book contains an appendix that helps to explain it.

Daoud Hari is a brave man who risked his life repeatedly to take reporters into dangerous areas so that they could get the story out to the world. I found myself wondering constantly as I read his story if I would have the courage to withstand the things that he did to help his fellow countrymen.

I cannot say that this was a “good” book because it is so difficult to read about the suffering of these people. However, this was a very enlightening book and offers a lot of information about the situation in Darfur. (4.5/5)

It says everything about this land to know that even the mountains are not to be trusted, and that the crunching sound under your camel’s hooves are usually human bones, hidden and revealed as the wind pleases. -From The Translator, page 20-

Daoud Hari’s memoir about the genocide occurring in Darfur is beautifully and simply wrought, and so powerful I found myself choking back tears. Hari decided to write his memoir, focusing on his years as a translator for Western news organizations, because he knows ‘most people want others to have good lives, and, when they understand the situation, they will do what they can to steer the world back toward kindness.‘

Daoud Hari grew up in Darfur - and shows the reader his happy childhood, his close extended family, and the beautiful social network of his people. He then brings the reader up to the present day, where roving packs of Sudanese government supported rebels and militia groups systematically burn villages, rape women and children, and torture and kill tribesmen and their families who are only trying to eek out a simple existence in desert valleys. Hari reveals the thousands of displaced people living in camps without adequate water or food - places where women and children are forced to risk daily rapes as the price of wood for their fires. The stories contained in this slim memoir are horrifying and graphic - stories which once read would simply refuse to leave my consciousness.

The Translator is required reading for those who care about the people of the world. As Hari points out, if we continue to allow genocide to occur in Darfur, we risk it happening in other places as well. For Hari, it is simple: speak out, put pressure on our government and the people positioned to make a difference. Our voices, as Hari’s voice, can make a difference.

For those readers unfamiliar with the political situation in Darfur which has led to the massacre of thousands of indigenous Africans, Hari provides an appendix which helps put the crisis in historical perspective. The situation in Darfur is complex and not easily understood…Hari helps to simplify it.

The Translator is a disturbing and powerful book. It is not a book which I can read, set aside and forget about.

Highly recommended for its lyrical, yet simple prose and its tremendous social significance.

Rating: 5/5

Daoud Hari, as a translator of many languages, knows how important words can be. During his entire life, Hari followed the “pen is mightier than the sword” philosophy by providing translation services to journalists writing about the genocide and the horrible circumstances of his homeland, Darfur, Sudan. His adventures and reflections came to life in his memoir, The Translator: The Tribesman’s Memoir of Darfur.

Let every reader of this little book be warned: Hari’s memoir is powerful, impactful and heart-breaking. He spares nothing when describing how his fellow countrymen and women (including children) are being slaughtered in Darfur. Entire villages are being gunned down by helicopters, men and women are burned alive in their huts, children are killed by the sharp tip of the bayonet. During most of this book, I could only read a couple of chapters at a time because the descriptions were so hard to read. But Hari’s plea to his reader - to read and learn more - echoed in my head , and I pressed on until I finished the last word.

I have no regrets reading this memoir. And I ask that all of you read it too. By talking about this book, I hope to spread the mighty written word of Daoud Hari to you, and together, we can be more aware of the situation in Sudan and Chad. Won’t you join me?

Rating: 5/5

Rating: 4 Stars

First Sentence: I am sure you know how important it can be to get a good phone signal.

Reason for Reading: I was interested in learning more about the current conflict in Darfur. I received this book through the LibraryThing’s Early Review Program.

Comments: Last summer as I immersed myself in books, I spent time in Africa. Through books, I lived life as a child soldier in West Africa; I talked with the killers in Rwanda who murdered their own neighbors and friends, ones they played and dined with just days before; I was taken into South Africa and came face to face with Apartheid; and I lived through a vicious war in what now is called Zimbabwe. The torture and slaughtering of a people is nothing new. The horror of such actions remain fresh always.

As far away and unaffected as we Americans may feel, miles away from the death and danger, that distance is not so great. What goes on across the globe does impact us, whether directly or indirectly. As history repeats itself over and over again, we must not fall into the trap of thinking we are immune. We live in this world too. We are all brothers and sisters. Our basic needs are the same. Our hopes and dreams are not far off from each other. The older I get and the more I learn, the more I realize just how connected we all are. Our choices and decisions have consequences that can have a resounding effect all over the world.

Daoud Hari brings his story to the world in hopes that it will make a difference. He wants his story and the story of those in and from Darfur to be heard. For perhaps in the telling, people will listen and take action.

Daoud Hari, a Zaghawa, was born and raised in a village in Darfur. He had a relatively happy childhood, surrounded by family and a close-knit community. Life had been tranquil, full of the usual every day hardships, playing games with friends and cousins, attending school, and visiting neighbors. Suddenly all that changed. The government has been unstable for quite some time; politics, power, and religion, all creating rifts that would soon come to a head, leading to the slaughter of several thousands of people and displacing millions more, in what would later earn the grim title of genocide. This is still taking place today.

The government under the Sudanese President Omar El Bashir used its military might to attack the every day people and manipulated ethnic groups to turn against their friends and neighbors. Arabs who once lived side by side by their African brothers took up arms against them, and the fighting began. Rebel groups that had begun forming over the years of rising conflict, grew in numbers as the violence escalated and innocent people died. The Sudanese government took advantage of the rebel groups, pitting them against each other, making promises of power and money that were empty at best. For women and girls no matter their ages, rape was a given. Death and violence was everywhere. Is everywhere. The Sudanese government continues to engage in such practices, continues to murder and rape the country. And yet the people, those caught in the middle who have become the targets, struggle to live on as best they can. It is because of people like Daoud Hari that their screams and cries are not falling on deaf ears.

In The Translator, Daoud Hari writes about his life in Darfur, his travels into the great Sahara, Israel and his imprisonment in both Israel and Egypt for entering Israel illegally. He also talks about how he came to be a guide and translator for both the genocide investigators and journalists wanting to visit and speak with people in Darfur. He risked his life time and time again, leading the reporters and investigators into war torn Darfur so the truth could get out.

Mr. Hari’s voice comes through in his writing. He seems genuine and sincere. There is no pretension. His writing is simple and to the point. He maintains his sense of humor even in the direst of moments–at least in the retelling. What else can you do? You have to cope somehow. There were, and continue to be, so many every day people trapped in between the fighting, some fleeing and others trying to survive and hold onto what they still have.

The author describes the horrors he encounters, individualizes the victims and gives them their own voices. He includes the readers, drawing us in pointing out the similarities, however small: the girl you admire, the loss of a baby. These are all things we all can relate to regardless of our borders. While he is careful with names and locations for the safety of those who remain behind, he does not shy away from talking about the rapes, the torture and the murder. He is not overly graphic in his descriptions, but the reader cannot help but visualize it all. Several times throughout the book, my heart ached and tears welled up in my eyes, mothers and fathers watching their children die.

Daoud Hari’s experiences while in Darfur during the war were full of suffering and loss. And yet, he stood his ground and carried on. He had a purpose, always moving forward to help those around him who needed his aid and in helping get the word out about the conditions is which the people of Darfur were forced to contend. He saw the humanity even in those who might cause him the greatest harm. His courage and strength carried him through as much as his friendliness, insight and thoughtfulness.

The Translator is a powerful memoir that needs to be read. It is an important story about the terror that has engulfed Darfur and is spilling over the borders into neighboring countries and regions. Darfur is not the only area that currently is facing such atrocities, and unfortunately it will not likely be the last unless humanity begins to take action and set things right.

Favorite Parts (and on a lighter note): I loved how he described the Sahara desert–beautiful and merciless. It is obvious the author is in awe of this great desert, but then, who wouldn’t be?

The author is a reader! One of his favorite books is Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte.

Miscellaneous: I actually marked several quotes in this book that I would like to go back to at a later time. Unfortunately because this is an Advance Readers Copy, I am unable to post them at this time.

It seemed quite timely that just as soon as I finished reading this book, there was an article about Steven Spielberg in relation to Darfur. He has withdrawn as the artistic adviser for the Beijing Olympics in protest of China’s failure to take a stance against the Sudanese government. China has close ties with the Sudanese government and is one of the main buyers of Sudanese oil.

And every week there was the unspoken question behind it, the one I did’nt know enough to ask myself - Have you found her yet? The one who reminds you of you? -From Have You Found Her, page 22-

Janice Erlbaum is in her mid-30s and decides to volunteer at a shelter for homeless girls - the same shelter she lived in almost twenty years before. She doesn’t fully understand her motivations, and she immediately breaks the rules for volunteers by choosing favorites, giving gifts and eventually befriending the troubled Samantha. Have You Found Her is Erlbaum’s story of that year and what she discovers…not just about Samantha (who is more ill than anyone can imagine), but about herself.

This memoir is a disturbing read, and ultimately one which is heart breaking. Erlbaum is a talented writer, slowly revealing Samantha’s problems and her (Erlbaum’s) underlying issues about motherhood, co-dependency and escapism through drugs. She builds tension with some subtle foreshadowing and the book unwinds with a sense of doom. Long before the final secret is revealed, the reader knows to expect disaster. Luckily, the sadness is balanced with a sense of fulfillment which Erlbaum finds with her domestic partner, Bill - a man who shines between the pages as a person of hope and stability in an uncertain world.

To say I enjoyed Have You Found Her seems inappropriate - who could enjoy the gradual unraveling of a young girl’s life, the sense of futility and lost hope that invades the prose? But despite this, I couldn’t put this book down. I felt compelled to turn the pages, to understand the despair which drives mental illness, to find out how it all would end.

Janice Erlbaum has written a memoir which will stimulate discussion among parents of teenagers, and those who work with disturbed or drug addicted children. Brutally honest and revealing, this is a book I can recommend.