Fiction: Jean Kwok

I kept seeing Jean Kwok's novel Searching for Sylvie Lee on recommended book lists, but alas the queue at the library was quite long, so I decided to try out her previous novel, Girl in Translation first. I'm glad I did - this is the type of Asian-American fiction that is squarely in my comfort zone - young Asian girl - recent immigrant or child of too-hard-working to be around much immigrants, succeeds in school, but never quite fits in, finds herself and her passion, but at the expense of love or the approval of her parents.  While Girl in Translation follows this formula, it is in no way rote or unimaginative.  There's a reason this story line is so popular - who doesn't love the struggle of a beautiful girl caught between two cultures, with so much promise, and so much obligation?  The writing and storytelling are easy to follow in a "beach read" way, but certainly not mindless.  This book left me wanting to read more by Jean Kwok, so I was quite happy to find Searching for Sylvie Lee waiting for me at the library.

When I was in college, I took a poetry class that was not my favorite.  I found I always wanted some background on the poet - what was s/he going through when they wrote the poem?  What was going on in the world they were living in at the time they wrote the poem?  What was the poem in response to?  What was the poet trying to say?  But every time I wondered these things, my professor - or other more sophisticated students - would inform me that a poem had to stand on its own, and it wasn't about what the poet intended, but what we took from the poem, without all of that background information.  I understood the point, but it didn't make me enjoy or understand the poems any better.  And so it often it when I read novels.  I wonder if the "fiction" is really "fiction."  Why did the author write THIS book about THESE characters?  People say "write what you know," and what is it that the author knew about the characters and places in this particular book?  And so it is with Searching for Sylvie Lee - about the perfect wife and sister who suddenly goes missing.  Her not-as-perfect sister, travels internationally not just to find her, but to find out more about the real life no one ever understood her sister was living.  After thoroughly enjoying Girl in Translation, there were parts of this book that just didn't seem right to me.  I couldn't quite connect to the characters, and felt uncomfortable about some of their relationships with each other - at the risk of including a spoiler, I won't go into it more, but I just could not relate.  But, it was because of this that I just did some brief internet research about the book - to see how it had been received, and it was there that I learned more about Kwok's background, and that she had suffered the disappearance of a sibling.  That she would then write this book is incredibly brave to me - I know it means that the book no longer stood on its own for me - but I don't care.  It made it fascinating and real, and so much more incredibly painful.  I cared more about what happened to Sylvie Lee, and what would become of her sister.  On its own, I don't think I would have appreciated this book as much as I did Girl in Translation, and maybe I didn't read it the way I was supposed to - with a little background - but that did help me connect better, and I do hope the process of writing the novel brought Kwok some much needed peace.

Pachinko - Min Jin Lee

I love a good multi-generational story - Pachinko is a perfect beach-read with a little more going on.  It's the story of Sunja who lives in Korea and comes from a poor family.  After finding herself unexpectedly pregnant (and unmarried), she marries a man willing to take her and her unborn child as his own - and moves to Japan.  The book follows the family through generations, as they struggle with poverty and racism in their new country.  For the most part I loved this book - the story is compelling and I cared about what was happening to the characters.  There were some parts of the book that seemed oddly out-of-place to me - scenes where complicated characters were presented as one-dimensional, or simply written off and forgotten.  Like many multi-generational novels that cover so much - I often found myself just wanting to know more about a given character- or to learn more backstory - but I always remind myself that books are like life in this way. There are so many people that come and go in your life, many with interesting backstories that you'll never learn - or perhaps you only get a glimpse when you really want more.  For me, this was exactly the kind of book I like to read while on vacation or on an airplane - when I have time to really get into it.  Not perfect, but one of my favorite reads of the year.

Sometimes you just have to laugh...

Every day life can be quite stressful - given my work and current events, it's easy to get bogged down in the negative.  When I have free time and want to unwind, I find that I tend toward the mindless - sitcoms on TV, comedies for movies...and whenever a well-known comedian comes out with a book, I try my best to put it on the list.  Here are a few of the ones I've read in relatively recent past:

No matter how bad her books get, I just can't quit Chelsea Handler.  Her most recent, Uganda Be Kidding Me, focuses on her travels around the world with her closest friends.  This book is horrible.  In chapter after chapter Chelsea gets drunk, is rude to her friends, makes some international faux pas, and then gets drunk again.  I didn't find much of it funny (and I do find her generally pretty funny) and feel like it's one of those situations where she really just thinks talking about how wasted she was is all she needs to get a laugh.  This was incredibly disappointing.  That being said, yes, I will read her next book when it comes out.

I love Amy Poehler.  I thought she was fabulous on SNL's Weekend Update, and after an iffy first-season, I became a true fan of Parks and Rec.  She seems like the kind of person I'd want to be friends with in real life, so I was eager to read her book, Yes Please.  Overall, I liked this book, but I wouldn't necessarily call if "funny."  I more appreciated her frank discussion of what it was like to be a working mom - the stress it put on her marriage (which ultimately ended in a divorce) and her emphasis on the help she receives from her nannies.  She is straight-forward and real, and to the extent there is humor, it kind of comes from a just a general shared vision of the world around us.  For people who are already fans, I would recommend this, but I don't see this winning over any new fans.

I'm not sure if this book is supposed to be funny.  Does Lena Dunham put herself out there as funny?  Or is it just that she is totally "real" about her generation in a way that just seems completely ridiculous so I feel like it's supposed to be funny?  I am not a fan of Lena Dunham's work.  I find Girls to be completely baffling, and do not (thankfully) know a single woman who behaves or speaks in the way the female characters on her show do.  That being said, Dunham has clearly gained incredible success in an industry in which she is not the typically successful (looking?) person.  And so I read Not That Kind of Girl in an attempt to gain better insight into this strange world in which she lives.  I thought this book was actually well-written - but it certainly did not endear me to Dunham.  She came across as a privileged spoiled-brat who created drama around her because her life was otherwise too boring.  I know there has been much made of the strange relationship she seems to have with her sister (including accusations of molestation), and I admit I was a bit taken aback by it all and wondered if she was exaggerating for some sort of perverse effect.  Whatever the case, it didn't really work for me.  I think Dunham is a bit clueless in many respects, but she is making it work in a world that doesn't think she has any right doing so - and that in and of itself is pretty impressive.

People I Should Have Learned About When I Was a Kid: Maya Lin

The Artist of the Month at my kids' pre-school is Maya Lin.  I am embarrassed to say that until I read in their newsletter that they were studying her, I had no idea who Maya Lin was.  Having since read up a bunch on her, I find my ignorance appalling - I'm not sure if it's a function of the fact that many schools do not teach modern artists (unless you take specific art classes which I never did), or if this is simply another example of minority artists not receiving the recognition in the canon that they deserve.

For those who don't know (and my hope is that I am the one in the minority here), Maya Lin is a Chinese-American architect, sculptor, and landscape artist.  When she was only twenty-one years old, she won the public design contest for the Vietnam Veterans Memorial in Washington, D.C.  I remember traveling to D.C. as a high-school student and being brought to tears by the sight and overwhelming significance of the monument.  It is, to me, such a powerful embodiment of those who lost their lives in service to our country.  I wish I had known more at the time about the person who designed it.

Following the Vietnam Veterans Memorial, Lin designed the Civil Rights Memorial in Montgomery, Alabama, and was on the selection jury of the World Trade Center Site Memorial Competition.  In 2009, she was awarded the National Medal of Arts by President Obama.  More of her work can be seen on her website.

Once I learned more about Ms. Lin, I went in search of resources to share with the kids.  I could not find any children's books solely about her, but did discover that a book I should have read a long time ago but haven't, President Obama's Of Thee I Sing, features a chapter about her (and 12 other inspiring Americans).  In addition to reading this book to the kids, we also did our standard coloring sheets while we discussed her work - and I tried to impress on my kids just how amazing it was that she achieved so much at such a young age, and in the face of significant prejudice against her because of her Asian heritage.

I also found this Maya Lin inspired art project online.  It is a little ambitious for us, given the ages of my kids, but it did inspire me to just have the kids break out the play-dough and start creating.

I'm definitely late to the party when it comes to learning about and appreciating the brilliance of this incredible woman, but truly better late than never.

Baby Catcher - Peggy Vincent

I have had two high-risk pregnancies.  Before, during, and after, I never would have considered a home-birth and thought that anyone who did was crazy and really asking for trouble.  But, reading this book definitely changed my mind.  Sort of.  I delivered my children at Alta Bates Hospital in Berkeley, California - the same hospital where the author of this book worked before becoming a licensed midwife. At Alta Bates, women labor (and usually deliver) in individual rooms.  Only when there is an issue, or a need for a c-section, is the woman moved to a more sterile operating room.  I was moved both times - the first because they thought I might need a c-section, and the second because I was delivering twins (which by protocol are always delivered in the OR).  But, each time, before I was moved, I appreciated being able to labor in a room with my friends and family, where I could watch TV or listen to music, have my blankets from home, and generally try to be as comfortable as possible.  So, given that during this process I wanted to have all my creature comforts, why wouldn't it make sense to labor and deliver in my actual home, where I am the most comfortable?  Vincent's memoir chronicles the birth of many many women - most go smoothly and seem much less difficult than I felt my birth was - but perhaps it was the attitude of these women that helped it go more smoothly?  Or perhaps it is self-selective in that the women who can afford to deliver at home (not financially, but logistically) are the ones who have not suffered any difficulties in their pregnancies.  Of course there were times when Vincent did have to take her patients to the hospital when complications arose - and I felt she laid out the interesting and ever-changing dynamics between the doctors and the midwives well.  This book definitely opened my eyes to the beauty of the home delivery - and in working with a midwife (or doula or other such person).  There is so much that is very personal about pregnancy and delivery - the choices that one wants to have, a birth plan, and contingencies - in this area I feel like there is a lot of pressure to be "all natural" and that women are often made to feel "less than" when medical conditions or unforeseen complications necessitate the use of drugs or a c-section.  It is unfortunate because every birth, no matter how it comes about, is an amazing, difficult, and treasured experience.  I think Vincent did a good job in her book of not being judgmental, but of presenting an option for women, and one I would certainly consider if I ever had another kid and my medical conditions allowed for it.

Flux - Peggy Orenstein

I first read this book after I had just graduated from law school.  I was single and fairly certain that I never wanted to have children.  As the book looks at professional women and their choices involving raising families, I felt like it reinforced my belief that it is impossible to have it all, and that having children would only derail what I hoped would be a focused and successful legal career.  Years later, the book was still on my shelves.  But, this time around, I'd been praticing law for almost 12 years, I had a young son, and plans for more children in the future.  I have a husband who supports my career- but who definitely has one of his own.  And so, the majority of the child-care falls to me.  In many ways, I feel like I am the disappointment that Orenstein predicted in women with professional potential who choose to take time to have children.  Re-reading this book while in a completely different place in my life was very interesting.  I found it frustrating and almost hopeless - sad to realize that I'd stepped off the competitive career track that I always saw myself on - or maybe sad to realize that I'm the stereotype of the woman who decided that a high-powered legal career wasn't giving me the satisfaction I thought I deserved. While having a family certainly isn't the be-all-end-all, I enjoy it.  And I enjoy having a job that I love as opposed to one that other people think that I am supposed to have.  I do wonder if it's possible to "have it all" and still get sleep at night.  I feel like I've made the right choices for me that have led to more happiness in my career and personal life than I thought I'd ever have, but still feel like it came at the sacrifice of being a trail blazer or making things any easier for the women who come after me - that feeling still gnaws at me often.  Other women I've spoken to about this book found it comforting - to know that there are other women who struggle with the same doubts as they do.  I found it frustrating - wishing that more people could find a way to have pieces of everything they want, or to be happy in what they have.  Mostly, I wish that we could all find a way to feel comfortable in our decisions, and support others who make ones that are not the same as ours - and for those of us that have choices, to appreciate that reality.  This is a conversation I think will be going on for decades to come, as women wrestle with what we want and what we are willing to give up to achieve it.  This is a great book for sparking debate and serious thought about the life one wants to lead - but getting through it was definitely (for me) no walk in the park.

The Widow Clicquot - Tilar Mazzeo

My favorite cocktail is a kir royale.  I can't say I'm sophisticated enough to have a preference in the champagne or sparkling wine that is used to make it - but I know that there is something special about that bottle in the simple orange box.  I also don't much care for stories about how any type of alcohol is made.  It's kind of why I'm not hugely impressed by tours of wineries (unless the buildings are architecturally interesting or the vineyards are particularly beautiful).  My enjoyment comes from the drinking of the drink itself, not really knowing where it's from.  But, for some reason, I thought a book about the widow who cultivated the Veuve Clicquot empire might be interesting.  It wasn't really, except for the general story about a woman growing up in the shadow of the French Revolution becoming a rich and powerful businesswoman.  An accomplishment almost unheard of today (well obviously the French Revolution part), but even more rare centuries ago.  The book is a good balance between the life of the widow, Barbe-Nicole, and the making of the champagne that made her famous.  It's clear the book was meticulously research, but as might be expected, this can make for dry reading.  The author attempts to add suspense to the story by ending each chapter with a foreshadowing cliffhanger - along the lines of "but that wouldn't be the last time Barbe-Nicole found herself on the bring of financial failure."  I kept hearing an overly dramatic voice-over in my head and the whole thing came across a little cheesy.  But, clearly, she was an amazing woman, and even though a bottle of her bubbly will run me quite a bit more than Prosecco, knowing her background and being the feminist that I am, I think this probably will encourage me to continue to support the on-going success of her empire.

A Widow's Story - Joyce Carol Oates

Last week my aunt lost her husband.  I attended the funeral, and as funerals always do, it made me think about my own life, but more importantly about what the lives of those around me mean.  What would I do if I lost my husband?  How would I feel?  How would I move on?  My uncle had been sick for awhile - but does that really matter?  Does having the chance to say good-bye truly mean that the processing and coping with grief will be any easier than if someone is taken away suddenly and without warning?  Joyce Carol Oates explores all these ideas, and more, in her extremely personal memoir, A Widow's Story, in which her 77-year old husband and partner for over 30 years dies unexpectedly from complications stemming from pneumonia.  Though her husband was relatively old, and though she took him to the hospital, Oates is blindsided by his death.  Though a woman with devoted and supportive friends, incredible intelligence, and an outlet through her writing - Oates finds herself completely undone and lost in her new world and new position as a widow.  Oates recalls the events of her husband's death and the years that follow with honesty - while also looking back with some perspective on what she now believes she was going through.  I was particularly taken, and impressed, with her vivid discussion of her thoughts on suicide, and saddened by her constant feelings that she no longer deserved to be alive, and that with her husband gone, she was nothing but garbarge that needed to be taken out and thrown away.  Of course, given Oates's famous writer status, and the subject of the book, there is much to compare to Joan Didion's Year of Magical Thinking, and Oates references the book without name several times.  But, Oates's book stands on its own as a testament to the love she had for her husband and the incredible impact people can make on our lives.  At the end of the book (it might be the last line), she says something like, the best a widow can say on the one-year anniversary of her husband's death is that she is still living - meaning, of course, that dealing with grief is a tough business.  People want us to "get over it" or to preoocupy ourselves with other tasks, and certainly not to show emotion that would make others uncomfortable.  In the end, while we all need support, we also need to continue to live in our own way and on our own terms. I hope writing this book helped Oates understand her loss, and served as a way to keep her incredible memories of her husband alive.  For herself and others.

Cinderella Ate My Daughter - Peggy Orenstein

After reading Orenstein's riveting views on women in the workplace, I wondered after Waiting for Daisy, how she would go about raising her own daughter. This book sort-of answers the question. In Cinderella Ate My Daughter, Orenstein explores the "princess" phenomenon - the concept that no matter how hard a parent may fight against it, their 3-year old child simply must have the latest Disney princess doll - and all the pink costumes it comes with. Orenstein challenges herself to overcome her own sterotypes about what it must mean to allow her daughter to dress in a tutu and play with Barbies. She looks at the marketing, and she explores nature vs. nuture arguments. In the end, she doesn't come up with many answers, just more questions about whether we, as parents, are doing more harm than good when we try to get girls to play with trucks and boys to bottle-feed their stuffed animals. But, since this is a subject area that I am fascinated with, I found the book quite enjoyable, and found myself repeating anecdotes to my husband and mother. Where our gendered identity comes from - and how we learn to feel comfortable in our own skin - is a question that is answered differently for each one of us. My hope is that by reading books like this one, and discussing them with our friends and partners, that we will raise children who feel unconstrained by streotype, and free to express themselves in the way they find best - and in a world that doesn't judge or ridicule them for doing so.

The Happiest Mom - Meagan Francis

I hate martyrs. So, a book attemptin to convince mothers (and all parents) to stop being martyrs is right up my alley. Francis's thesis is that motherhood has swung from something we were all supposed to pretend was the most fulfilling thing in the world (resulting in The Yellow Wallpaper) to something now that everyone complains on blogs about as contributing to their need to imbibe multiple glasses of wine each evening. Francis believes there has to be something in the middle - a place where we love and cherish our children, but where we also have time to go to the movies with our friends, read, and do everything we did in our pre-children lives. She encourages mothers to put their own needs first, and to cut back on overscheduling their children - because often less really is more. I have no idea what Francis's background is - other than the fact that she is a parent - so she doesn't offer any kind of deep psychological analysis or purport to be an expert on anything - but she does have some great ideas. Mostly, this book serves as a good reminder that even though children change our lives, they don't necessarily have to ruin them - and those who choose to see the world that way have no one to blame but themselves.

The Red Queen - Philippa Gregory (Cousins' War #2)

I've been trying to read Gregory's historical novels in chronological order (not necessarily publication order), but when I saw her latest on the new release shelf at the library, I couldn't help myself. The Red Queen is the story of Margaret Beaufort, a descendant of Edward III, and in line for the throne. She is born in the 1400s, in the midst of the War of the Roses, which pit the Lancasters against the Yorks. Since she was a young child, Margaret considered herself extremely devout, and idolized Joan of Arc. She longs to be a nun, but is instead married off to better the family. From her first vows, she focuses her energy on proving her superiority to others, and ensuring that she has a son and protects him until he becomes the King of England. Like many of Gregory's novels, this one is filled with treasonous plots, and calculating strategy to figure out who will win which battles and which side to align with to avoid the Tower and eventual execution. Margaret's character is absolutely infuriating. She is incredibly self-absorbed and selfish and sees things in black-and-white, with no understanding of politics - except those that seem to benefit her. I felt this novel was more simply written than some of the others I've read by Gregory - as if she's sucuumbed to her popularity and is now just pumping out books as quickly as possible without as much attention to their literary quality.

Shanghai Girls - Lisa See

Shanghai Girls is the story of two sisters, Pearl and May, and their journey from war-torn Shanghai to Los Angeles from 1937-1957. When the story opens, Pearl and May are the spoiled daughters of a seemingly wealthy businessman. They waste their money on stylish clothing and spend their time posing for "beautiful girl" calendars. When their father reveals that he has gambled away the entire family fortune, the girls are married off, and begin the daunting trip to America. The book follows the two sisters as they suffer their own losses in their own ways - and tracks their friendships and betrayals as they learn to navigate their new lives. The story is told from the perspective of Pearl, the older wiser sister. And while she is clearly a biased narrator, she initially came across to me as a somewhat omniscient one - until the story develops more fully in the end and it becomes clear that Pearl has misread the significance of earlier relationships - to the detriment of her own happiness, and her relationship with her sister. Like so many books written about Asian immigrants during this time period, Shanghai Girls is filled with unimaginable sorrow and heartache - but at the same time, it is a beautiful story about family and the strength of the human spirit to perservere despite unimaginable tragedy.

Uncommon Arrangements: Seven Portraits of Married Life in London Literary Circles - Katie Roiphe

I found this book a really interesting read, particularly in conjunction with Elizabeth Gilbert's recent book, Committed. Uncommon Arrangments is a series of essays about married British writers from 1910-1939. Each of the relationships is a study in the idea of marriage and committment, and questioning the traditional notions of monogamy and domestic/professional spheres. I am sure throughout history there have been couples who have consciously made an effort to redefine the idea of marriage -to make their relationships work despite the fact that they may be outside the normal mainstream. Yet, I was still struck that this somewhat concerted effort was going on so early in the 20th century - during a time when I just would have assumed that even if women were miserable, most were resigned to their role of domestic subservience. By nature of the couples that Roiphe chose to analyze however - these women for the most part had a talent and profession outside the home (as Virginia Woolf who features prominently on the periphery of several of the relationships in the book has said, "A woman needs money and a room of her own.") and were thus not wholly dependent on the men in their lives. Yet, they still chose to be married. Some of the women clearly love their husbands - despite the fact that their husbands are philanderers with children born out of wedlock or immature incompetents (sometimes both). Or, the women are lesbians (with gay husbands, at times), looking to perhaps to shield their preferred partnerships. Each relationship portrayed in this book is interesting in and of itself , though Roiphe approaches everything from the viewpoint of a disinterested researched which can become boring at times - but, more importantly, what I found the overall concept of the book truly fascinating. In some ways, it is people acting under the guise of liberal views of marriage - arguably in a way to justify their weaknesses. But, more to the point, I think there is value is exploring what it means to be happy in a marriage or partnership - why a given person enters into such an arrangement - and the importance of those two people making the rules that work for them, rather than feeling constrained by expectations imposed by society. There will always be questions about what people are actually comfortable with, and what they concede to in order to hold on to someone, or whether both people can be equally happy. But, I appreciate the idea that there is not a Platonic ideal when it comes to marriage and partnerships, but that we are all free to figure out and define what works for us as we grow and change in our given relationships.

The Kitchen God's Wife - Amy Tan

After reading The Joy Luck Club, it is clear that Amy Tan does Asian mother-daughter relationships like no other. So, I was happy to pick up her second novel, The Kitchen God's Wife, and find that she continued with the theme. The book initially takes place in the Bay Area, and focuses on Pearl, the daughter of Chinese immigrant, Winnie. Pearl is suffering from MS, but has not yet told her mother, for fear of worrying her unnecessarily. Winnie, on the other hand, has secrets of her own - about her past in China, a former husband, other children, and a life she thought she left behind decades ago. But, when meddling Aunt Helen, who holds both womens' secrets, decides it is time for mother and daughter to come clean, Winnie begins to tell her story. The remainder of the novel takes the reader back to China to learn about Winnie's difficult beginnings where tragedy upon tragedy mount, and just when you think things couldn't get any worse, of course they do. I found myself incredibly annoyed with the portrayal of children in this novel - as selfish, demanding creatures with no manners - but as the book continued I believe this was intentional on Tan's part - a reminder the subsequent generations are often ignorant of the struggles their mother's have gone through on their behalf, and a window into how their behavior might be altered if they understood sacrifces that had been made for them. The plot does have the depressing effect I experienced earlier this month while reading Push, given that one bad thing after another happens. But, unlike Push, I found this book well-written, the plot and characters engaging, and the reflection of the characters on their experience particularly valuable. Of course, one could also chalk it up to my ability to relate to Tan's characters and families more than I could related to those of Precious. While difficult to get through at times, an emotionally worthwhile read.

Stones into Schools - Greg Mortenson

A few years ago I read and was deeply inspired by Greg Mortenson's first book, Three Cups of Tea, about his organization, Central Asia Institute, and their efforts to establish schools (mostly for girls) in remote regions of Pakistan and Afghanistan. Yet, when I saw that he had published this second book, I didn't find myself rushing to read it. And, I'm not sure why - maybe because I thought it would just be more of the same - another 500 pages about the difficulties of getting through to people who believe that young women have no place in a classroom, the hardships of transporting materials to build the schools to such remote regions, the danger of challenging foreign governments and the Taliban. Or, maybe I just didn't want to be reminded that there are people out there who are so selflessly dedicated to literacy, peace, and young girls, while I sit at home and just read about them. Whatever the case, I did finally pick this one up - and from the first page of Khaled Hosseini's introduction to Mortenson's own epilogue, my eyes were filled with tears and my heart simply full from the wonder and amazement of the work being done by the people of CAI, and those they work with in Azad Kashmir and Pakistan. The book is a continuation of the work described in Three Cups of Tea, with a focus on a single school that took over a decade to build, as Mortenson describes the various barriers to achieving his ultimate goal of literacy and access to education for all children, but particularly young girls. The statistics throughout the book are staggering, but I was particularly touched by Mortenson's continual reminder of an African proverb that says something along the lines of - "Educate a boy and you educate an individual. Educate a girl, and you educate a community." Mortenson's message is a testament to the power that women hold in their communities - and the reason why the Taliban and other leaders seek to prevent the education of young girls. Some of the most amazing moments in the book come in realizing what men in these regions who work with Mortenson are putting on the line to educate their girls and better their own countries. Mortenson also shares a lot in this book about his own limitations - the sacrifices he has made in terms of losing time with his own children, how much he relies on the support and encouragement of his wife, and how he is not cut out for the fundraising and literary appearances that are now demanded from him. This book is a reminder (one that can be frustrating) that we can and should all be doing more - it doesn't have to be a complete life sacrifice to a calling like Mortenson - it can be just one more hour of volunteer work a week or one more check we write to an organization close to our hearts. It can even be just taking the time to read this book, to get educated, and to value the opportunities we often take for granted.

Insecure at Last - Eve Ensler

This book has a terrible title and a terrible cover (in my opinion, obviously). But, I picked it up because of Eve Ensler's Vagina Monologue fame. I completely misread what this was going to be about. I thought it was about living in an increasingly insecure world - and what to do when the fear of terrorists and WMDs and incomprehensible world-ending catastrophes overtake us. I assumed it would be only of these hysterical threats are all around us viewpoints, with the ultimate conclusion that we all need to live our lives, so we need to learn to live with insecurity. Instead, this is a very powerful discussion of horrific abuses and violations of human rights (mostly against women) being committed around the world - often in the name of making our world "more secure." Ensler weaves in her own person story of the physical abuse she suffered at the hands of her father, with stories about the use of rape in mass genocide, public executions of women in Afghanistan, the hundreds of murders of unnamed women in Ciudad Juarez, and descriptive accounts of pure brutality. As with her Vagina Monologues, Ensler speaks absolute truth to power - she gives unnamable atrocities a voice and speaks out against actions others are too ashamed to acknowledge. In doing so, she empowers women and communities around the world to engage in a dialogue and to refuse to hide in isolation. Ensler is in your face and at times some of the stories were too shocking for me to finish in one sitting. But there is no question that she is inspiring - this is the kind of writing that I feel is such a call to arms - a reminder that even though we've come so far, we have so much further to go.

Girl Sleuth - Melanie Rehak

Despite the fact that I have loved reading for as long as I can remember, I don't think I've ever read a Nancy Drew mystery. According to the author of this book about the cultural phenomenon that is this girl detective, such a thing is absolutely unheard of. Nancy Drew, created in 1930, has helped sell 80 million books and has taken the country by storm. Changing her personality, her appearance, and her approach to crime to suit our changing views of women and feminism, Nancy Drew has always been an icon with universal appeal. Through this book, Rehak tells the story of Drew's creation and the journalists that brought her to life. While not a Nancy Drew fan myself, I am interested in anyone and anything that has adapted to withstand the test of time, and that can get a little kid interested in picking up a book. Part of this book explores the ubiquity of Nancy Drew - which I never noticed until after I read this - and I realized that the next couple books I picked up all referenced her. I'm tempted to go back and read a few of these - though I wonder if the magic would still apply to an adult who didn't meet Nancy when she was still a child. Whatever the case, it's clear that Nancy Drew has made a lasting impact - not only with respect to literary mysteries, but on our collective consciousness world wide.

Outlander - Diana Gabaldon

This book is The Time Traveler's Wife meets Philippa Gregory - only not as much time travel bouncing around and set in 18th century Scotland. While on her second honeymoon in Inverness, Scottland post-WWII, Claire witnesses a pagan ritual among the stone ruins of Craigh na Dun. When she returns later on her own, she finds herself transported through time and left to explain herself to Scot warriors - not all with the best intentions. Suspected as a spy, Claire is forced into alliances to protect her honor, and finds herself torn between her loyalty to her husband in the 20th century, and her attraction to a man from the past. A nurse during the war, Claire makes use of her healing powers and gains respect among the clan, while struggling to fit her feminist personality into the realities of the 18th century. For the most part, the time travel aspect of this book came across as gimmicky, though I understand Gabaldon has written a number of books in this series, and I anticipate they all allow her to leap through time to different world and adventures. This book has a soap opera quality about it - with Claire's stubborness getting her into predictable and sometimes irritating predicaments, but the numerous characters (villains and heroes among them) are entertaining. Claire's 18th centure infactuation, Jamie, is also a lovely man to root for - with all the charm and none of Rhett Butler, and none of the scoundrel-ness. The immense popularity of this series was not difficult for me to understand, and anyone who enjoys Philippa Gregory and a little science-fiction would probably find themselves drawn to this series. I think it'll probably be awhile before I pick up another one, but it's nice to know they're out there whenever I'm in the mood for a complete escape.

Half Broke Horses - Jeannette Walls

Jeannette Walls bills her most recent book as fiction - most likely in an effort to avoid the accusations made against others such as James Frey in their not-quite-all-true memoirs. But, Half Broke Horses is Walls' best attempt at a biography of her own grandmother, Lily Casey Smith. Smith, a feminist before her time, grew up on a ranch in New Mexico where she was taught that a woman had no need for formal education, and should focus her energies on finding a husband. But, Smith had different plans. She struck out on her own to become a teacher, riding her horse out to Arizona. Smith's independent streak caused her to thumb her nose repeatedly at the establishment - which resulted in her frequent firings and her need to move on to new towns. She managed to find and lose love, to take care of her family without allowing herself to be tied down to them, and to make every reader wonder what she could have accomplished if given even half the opportunity of the men and boys around her. Walls is also the author of the memoir The Glass Castle in which she presents her own childhood as the chaotic result of free-thinking (and likely mentally unstable) parents. Knowing that end made reading this story of her grandmother's life all the more interesting. It also made me wonder how much truth lay in the perceptions of others, and how honest Walls could be in telling the story of a revered and much loved family member. All this of course makes for an incredible story, and makes her decision, in the end, to call the book "fiction" an honest one.

Committed - Elizabeth Gilbert

In Gilbert's memoir Eat, Pray, Love, she falls in love with a Brazilian named Felipe. In her latest, Gilbert tells the story of how she and Felipe came to be married, despite their adamant belief that after their painful divorces, they would never enter into the instution of marriage ever again. I was skeptical when I picked this one up. I thought it might be preachy - or an annoying attempt to justify why Gilbert's marriage was worthwhile, when so many others aren't. I thought it would be just another self-indulgent memoir. But, I was pleasantly surprised to say the least. While this is certainly a memoir, and Gilbert goes deep into her own personal relationships and feelings about marriage, this book is also a study of marriage - what it means in different cultures and religions, why people ever invented the institution of marriage, what it meant to women 100 (or even 20) years ago, and what it can mean for women today. Gilbert has done a lot of research - and sure she picks and chooses the histories that are relevant to her own life, but this one really resonated with me. As someone who never wanted to get married, but after 30 years came to terms with my own wedding, I really appreciated Gilbert's honesty and curiosity about her fears, her expectations in relationships, and her resentment toward a society that often defines marriage in a way that enforces and imposes gender stereotypes. As someone who has chosen not to have children, Gilbert also has intriguing viewpoints on how remaining childless impacts a life-long union (in bad and good ways). This is a great book for sparking discussion about the meaning of marriage - a hot topic certainly in California right now with the passage of Prop 8. And, I thought, a valuable tool for assessing one's own partnership - in terms of how it has lived up to one's expectations, or far exceeded it. I think I (and Gilbert) will always have some ambivalence about the institution of marriage, but learning more about where it came from and how others view it, certainly empowered me to feel like I can remain a feminist while still appreciating the wonder that comes from sharing my life with another person (in a state-sanctioned way). I can see how Glibert's tone might offend, or more likely, annoy many readers, but probably because I share many of Gilbert's inital notions about marriage, I appreciated this exploration of it.