The Life You Can Save - Peter Singer

Peter Singer is a professor of bioethics at Princeton. In this book, he asks what each of us can do to help end world poverty - suggesting that every person with means to spare (most of us) should aim to give 5% of their income each year to charity. Specifically, Singer advocates donations to international organizations, despite most people's inclination to give to organizations closer to home. Singer then addresses various philosophical or ethical responses from people who choose not to give - from futility arguments to the diffusion of responsibility. Singer maintains that it is morally indefensible to turn a blind eye to the lives that are lost each day as a result of poverty - given that it is within all of our power to do something as individuals to change this. Singer is very convincing - and he does it in a way that is not about guilt, but rather about common sense. He acknowledges that most people who will choose to read his book are people who already give in some sense - in both money and time. But, while I think it would be great if everyone read this book, I do think even if you already give much of your time and income, that this is a good book for thinking about why you give and how you decide which organizations to give to. It has helped me to think about being more focused in my giving, and to prioritize in different ways. I am always interested in ideas that further creating a culture of giving - in our smaller communities and in our society as a whole. Singer has great anecdotes about big change by small people, and admirable recognition of people like Warren Buffet and Bill Gates who regularly give large percentages of their income. This book will help you to re-evaluate what you "can" give to others, and why it is so necessary to do so. Even in these tough economic times at home, this book is a reminder that millions and millions of people world-wide are struggling just to obtain clean drinking water, immunizations, and daily food - and that there is always more we can be doing to help.

2666 - Roberto Bolano

This book is incredible. It might be because Bolano died before it was published. It might be because it is 893 pages long and I can still think of a couple hundred more I wish he would have written. Or it might be because it is just one of those masterpieces that made me waiver between just sitting back and enjoying it, and actively wishing I could write so seamlessly about everything and nothing at the same time. 2666 was, at some point, intended by Bolano to be published as five separate novels. Each of the five sections of the book works independently, held together by the common thread of the true unsolved murders of hundreds of women in the border town of Santa Teresa (Cuidad Juarez in real life). The first part of the novel (my favorite)focuses on three literary critics who are obsessed with finding an obscure German author by the name of Archimboldi - who may or may not actually exist. I love the story of an elusive mysterious writer, but amidst this, the critics are also involved in a complicated love triangle (to become a square?). I was disappointed when this section ended and Bolano moved on to the next part of the story, and I did not meet up with the critics again in the novel. But, Bolano had many many more characters to introduce - some to follow for the next hundred pages, and others to abandon after one very long sentence. I can't say that this was the most intriguing book that I have ever read, or that I flipped through it on the edge of my seat wondering what would happen, but I can say that I am just in awe of this accomplishment. It makes me want to go back and read Bolano's other novels - sad to know that he will no longer be writing, but pleased to discover yet another amazing author.

The Witches of Eastwick - John Updike

Following John Updike's death in January, I wanted to read one of his books in celebration of his accomplished literary career. And, given that the sequel to this book, The Women of Eastwick, was published last year and I still had not read the original, I decided it was time. By now, most people have probably seen the movie starring Jack Nicholson, Cher, and Susan Sarandon, but the basic premise is that three female witches living in Eastwick have their true colors revealed when a most powerful devil named Darryl moves to town. The women, all with powers of their own, seem to value their independence. Yet, Darryl is able to seduce each of them, encouraging them to flaunt their powers, but ultimately leaving them all to marry their innocent friend Jane. As a straight-forward story, I of course found the focus on Darryl to be infuriating. These women had so much going for them - so many ways to use their powers, and they chose to destroy each other and another woman because of a man. But, when read as a satire on books that waste their female protagonists, I was able to enjoy the humor of the characters and the brilliance of Updike's writing. I have read here and there that Updike himself was somewhat of a misogynist, so perhaps my reading of the story as a satire is too generous, but I suppose whatever it takes to appreciate a great and heralded author. I look forward to re-watching the movie and checking out the sequel.

Patronizing the Arts - Marjorie Garber

The importance of the arts in our society and how the arts and artists are supported - by corporations, by individuals, or by themselves - are issues that I think about often, with no sound solution. So, when I randomly came across this book at the library while visiting Olympia, I had to check it out. Garber's fundamental premise is that art does have value in our society, and as such requires funding from private sources. The patronage relationship, however, brings with it a host of problems, including judgments about what constitutes art, as well as limitations on freedom and innovation. This book begins with a history of patronage - including descriptions and anecdotes from famous artist/patronage relationships. From here, Garber develops her argument that the arts are on par with science in terms of the seriousness that it should be afforded, and that universities should take a leading role in providing the necessary funding and development of the arts and of artists. This was an accessible read, but not one that I felt added much to my overall thinking about the arts. Garber's argument that universities should play a bigger role in patronage was an interesting one, since often times the idea that "art" can be taught in a university setting is one that I question. I did appreciate Garber's recognition, however, that the teaching of the arts in a university setting leads not only to the development of artists, but also to the cultivation of people who appreciate art - and who in turn become the patrons that the arts so desperately require.

The White Tiger - Aravind Adiga

The winner of the 2008 Man Booker Prize, The White Tiger, is the story of Balram, born in the darkness of India and privy to the seedy underbelly of a nation coming into its own. The story is told through a series of long correspondence from Balram to an important visiting Chinese national. The purposes of Balram's letters is to tell the real story of India - the story that a visiting high-ranking official would presumably not be exposed to. Balram's story is one of constant class warfare - as a driver for a very wealthy man in Mumbai, Balram is forced daily to compete with fellow servants for power within the household. He kowtows to his master and desires the success that money can buy - including blonde-haired prostitutes. At the same time, Balram is clear to decry the hypocrisy and constant bribery of the police and politicians rampant in his country, as he himself evades the constant demands for money from his own destitute family. While Balram as a character is clever at times, and a sympathetic narrator, his story is too one-dimensional to maintain credibility. The wealthy are all evil and selfish, and insensitive to the realities of those less well-off than themselves. The poor are ignorant and simplistic. Only Balram, in his own mind, is able to straddle the two worlds and explain them to the reader. The overall message of Adiga's novel is an important one - the struggles of a nation seeking to maintain the importance of its culture while emerging into a more modern society. Yet, at times Balram is too black-and-white in his critiques, making a mockery of the whole process.

A Mercy - Toni Morrison

Toni Morrison's latest novel, like her Pulitzer-Prize winning Beloved, focuses on the slave trade and the effects of slavery on women and families. In Beloved, a mother chooses to kill her own children to protect them from the horror of bondage. Here, a slave mother is forced to watch her daughter, Florens, given away to a Dutch traveler as payment for a debt. She hopes that a life with a man who abhors dealing in human flesh, and whose wife has just lost her own child, will be an improvement on the life she herself would be able to provide. The story is told from the perspective of Florens, of Rebekka (her new owner), and Lina (the sole survivor of small pox in her Indian village), among others. While it is easy to get lost in Morrison's lyrical prose and become enveloped in the sadness of her characters, the reader is forced to work quite a bit to understand whose story is being told in a given moment - but the pay-off is tremendous. As with much of Morrison's writing, the focus is on women - their strength and ability to survive the most horrific of circumstances. As a woman, I find it impossible to read Morrison without feeling a debt to those who have come before, an appreciation for the life I have, and a measure of hope in the midst of continuing struggle.

The Night in Question - Tobias Wolff

Author of This Boy's Life, Wolff is a creative writing professor in the English department at Stanford whose writing is very dear to me. His writing is straight-forward and engaging, with characters who end up in situations that are not quite always what they seem, yet still always strangely familiar. This collection of short stories does not have a single narrative theme or subject matter - but rather is a collection of writing Wolff has earlier published in magazines such as The New Yorker and The Atlantic. My favorites included "The Other Miller" about an American soldier in Vietnam who is told that his mother has recently passed away. The title suggests the mistake that has occured, and while the twist in the story is predictable, Wolff still manages to instill a sense of dread in the reader - the inescapable train wreck that cannot be avoided. Another story featuring a boy left home with his best friend's girlfriend presented the ubiquitous story of betrayal and love, told in a fresh way. When it comes to collections of short stories, I often want to read them here and there - to save the collection so it is not over all at once. But, as I expected, once I reached the end of one, I felt compelled to move on to the next. There is nothing flashy or ostentatious about Wolff's stories, but they manage to be both familiar and uncomfortable in a very insightful way.