The Paris Wife

“Though I often looked for one, I finally had to admit that there could be no cure for Paris.” Isn’t that an inspired opening line?  I, regrettably, just finished reading The Paris Wife and all I can do is sigh that it is over.  Wow, I almost feel as if I just had 2 trips to Europe, one via a printed time machine, to those heady expatriate days I originally fell in love with while reading Hemingway’s The Sun Also Rises and A Moveable Feast.   In this creative,  fictionalized retelling of Ernest Hemingway’s first marriage, author Paula McLain has told a completely captivating tale of a time with which I could easily become utterly obsessed.  Ok, maybe I already have.

A long time ago, I took a course, or two, on Hemingway and pretty much read everything he wrote.  I had a bit of a conflict between my Women’s Studies minor and Papa’s misogynist ways, but overall, I was smitten.  His use of language, his characters, the romanticism of the time period and the settings.  I became an admirer and have never wavered in my affection for his talent, or my fascination with his life.

In the Paris Wife, McLain has beautifully recreated those days and tells the tale from Hadley* Richardson Hemingway’s perspective.  The debauchery and drinking, the traveling from city to city, country to country, the presence of other famous literary personalities and characters… I absolutely could not stop reading this book.  I was completely taken in by the story, one which was familiar to me from my studies, and truly feel as if I was given a bird’s-eye view to the birth and subsequent death of a marriage, along with the nearly mythical career of one of America’s finest writers.

Fascinating, well-researched and written, this is the best novel I’ve read since Laura Hillenbrand’s Unbroken.    Get it.

*Hadley was my “girl name” if I ever had a daughter.

“I’ve already told you so much more than I know.” – Richard Russo

Forgive me if I’m still blushing, but, last night  I met one of my literary heroes and I’m still feeling a bit girlish.  Richard Russo participated in a panel discussion about translating the novel to the screen as part of the Williamstown Film Festival and, thanks to Joe Donahue sharing that information on air, I was front and center, literally.  No, really, I sat in the front row within 15 feet of Rick (as his co-panelists called him) and was utterly charmed by him.  I’ll tell you everything…

About 5 years ago, I went on a Russo kick and read all of the novels he had published.  I was taken by his frankness, his nonjudgmental characterizations of the people who populated his world.  (Let me just say one thing, I have a degree in English, yet I feel unqualified to really talk literature.) Here’s how I see Richard Russo – he is the John Irving of upstate New York.  He’s one of us. He sees people in a respectful  manner, reserving his own judgment and simply allowing their story to be told.  I love his ability to make me smile and shake my head in a single sentence.  Amazing!  My favorite of Russo’s works is Bridge of Sighs and this is the piece that quaked me:

“But each of them had walked through an open door, then heard it slam shut behind them and the mechanism lock.  While neither regretted her decision, knowing the door was locked was disconcerting just the same, as was the fact that their husbands, if they’d heard that same slam and click, seemed untroubled by it.  If anything, knowing there was no turning back was reassuring to them.  They never felt trapped,, never wondered about the mountain road not taken, never felt as though some important part of them was withering as another flourished, never were greedy for what they didn’t have and would never experience.”

Holy shit!  I had never heard that sensation described so accurately – much less by a male author emoting for a female character.  That was deep, sensitive, insightful, intense.  I grabbed my little black book and, after reading the passage an additional 1/2 dozen times or so, noted the passage.

I’ve shared this extended quote a time or two with friends that I knew would be moved by the words – male and female.  I certainly never imagined having an opportunity  to tell the author of those words how powerful I had found them to be. Goodness, I live a good and lucky life, because there I was at the Clark Art Museum walking down the hall next to Russo and telling him he inspired me to get divorced.  Just kidding!  Well, I did say that, but I was only kidding about his being to blame for my marital status.  I will, however, hold him completely responsible for writing words that truly inspire and move me, a state of being that I can only hope continues for many years, and books, to come.

Abraham Lincoln, Vampire Hunter

Finally – a vampire story that I can sink my teeth into! (Sorry. I couldn’t resist the cheapest of laughs. You know I live with three boys, right?). Ok, hear me now, I was NOT interested in reading this book despite the positive things I heard from coworkers who raved about it. I don’t like vampire books. Period. But… 

In my quest to help my middle son to meet his dreaded Readers to Leaders requirement, I was desperate. I was familiar with this book trailer and decided to entice him to pick up the novel by playing it for him. As the video ended he asked “Can I see that again?,” and I knew I was getting somewhere. After the second viewing, he asked for the book and we were in business. The thing is, though, I’m always a little skeptical about his reading – does he skip around? Miss important plot details? Read the ending first? In situations like this, I think it is best to just read the same book, so I grabbed a copy for myself (librarian perk!) and promptly lost myself in a world of American history, political strife, swinging axes and blood sucking demons.  Fabulous!

The opening chapter of the novel was set in Rhinebeck, N.Y., which immediately sucked (ha!) me in to the story.  As the time period shifted from present day to 19th century, the action-filled story kept me interested to the point I was unable to put the book down.  I loved the image of Abe Lincoln as an axe wielding assassin to bloodsuckers, be they slave owners or supernatural creatures.  Grahame-Smith does a masterful job of blending the historical and the possible to create a tale that almost seems plausible.  I highly recommend this book for teens and adults alike and must admit, that there finally is a novel in this genre that I can completely and enthusiastically endorse.  

The film adaptation of the novel opened today, June 22nd, but please read the book before you see the movie.  The movie, incidentally, is directed by Tim Burton based on a screenplay by the author Seth Grahame-Smith and so help me God, if this joint effort is a repeat of the shit show that was Dark Shadows, well, let’s just say I will definitely have an axe of my own to grind.

Revolution by Jennifer Donnelly

image: jenniferdonnelly.com

Jennifer Donnelly, who resides in upstate New York, writes very engaging historical fiction.  Prior  to my reading Revolution, I had read a previous novel of hers, A Northern Light, which takes the Theodore Dreiser story An American Tragedy and changes the narrator to a female teenager working in an Adirondack boarding house.  Do you know this story?  In the early 20th century, Chester Gillette was convicted of murdering his pregnant lover Grace Brown and was put to death in the electric chair.  The novel was also adapted into a film, A Place in the Sun, starring, among others, Elizabeth Taylor and Montgomery Cliff.  You know it’s a good story when books are still being inspired by it a century later.  Check that one out, too.

But, on to Revolution… Andi, a seriously depressed, Brooklyn teenager trying to survive the loss of her younger brother,  is the narrator of this novel which alternates between the 18th century French Revolution and contemporary Paris.  Andi is a gifted musician who depends upon her guitar to retain her precarious grasp on life.  Her suicidal state of mind is addressed with powerful medication, both pharmaceutical and musical, and the descriptions of both “drugs” are boldly honest.  I was struck by the following description of a very familiar, to me, Pink Floyd song:   “…a moody guitar comes in, there’s a pause, and then four notes, clear and stunning: B-flat, F, G, E….David Gilmour got sadness down in four notes.” 

 

The novel contains countless musical references beyond Shine on You Crazy Diamond.  As I was reading I was continually impressed with the author’s knowledge of music from a wide array of genres – classical, pop, hip-hop, rap, traditional and others.  The musical descriptions were informative and added to the sensory stimulation present in the work. As someone who knows very little about the French Revolution, I found the history component to be really interesting, particularly the descriptions of the catacombs in Paris and the daily life of the royal family.  Despite her negative reputation, Marie Antoinette was portrayed with sympathy.  She may have been a shallow, spoiled woman but in this novel we are reminded that she was also a mother who has suffered the loss of numerous children.

A little history, a little mystery, some music and romance…sounds like a good summer read, friends. 

The Eternal Ones

After what feels like a long time, I’ve fallen in love with reading books again and have relegated the iPad to a place not on my nightstand. Yes, yes, I know that some folks read books on iPads or other electronic readers, but that isn’t really my way. I like to turn pages.

Anticipating a couple of personal days contending with a civil lawsuit (intriguing, yes?), I grabbed a novel to occupy my mind – Kirsten Miller’s the eternal ones. From the jacket I was able to determine that it was a tale similar to Ann Brashare’s My Name is Memory and The Time Traveler’s Wife by Audrey Niffenegger. I cracked the jacket with realistic enthusiasm and proceeded to be…mildly entertained? Here’s the good news – there are a couple of likable characters and the descriptions of Italy and New York City provide interest and color. The book is also a really quick read, I read faster and faster because I was so amused by the ridiculousness of the story that I couldn’t wait to see what inaneness came next. The only thing unpredictable about the plot was the consistently unimagined absurd plot twists.

This book had it all – romance, religion, adventure, drug abuse, a lovable gay stereotype, fashion, travel, mystery, suspense, humor, Satan… The only thing missing was plausibility. Hey, guess you can’t have everything, right? Like those hours back that I spent reading this dreck.

We All Fall Down

image from: hachettebookgroup.com

I have a dark fascination with addiction. I don’t understand it, but I know that it is real and accept that it is a part of our society. It’s everywhere. Of course, for every drug addict there is an ever widening circle of the people impacted by the drug addict and their actions. I think it would be very difficult to find a person who has not been touched in some way by addiction. Despite my years in the restaurant business, I have had minimal exposure to hard drugs or the people who use them. Most of my knowledge comes from reading memoirs and the experiences I learn about when there is a drug related death in a friend’s life. Unfortunately on this particular day in January, I’ve spent time reeling from both of those occurrences in a single day.

A couple of years ago I read two nonfiction works written individually by a father and son, David and Nic Sheff. The father’s book, Beautiful Boy, shares the heartbreaking story of losing a beloved child to a life of drugs, prostitution and criminal activity. And that Beautiful Boy, of course, is Nic. His tale, Tweak, told matter-of-factly, with false bravado and a persistent tone of disbelief, taught me about a world where drugs repeatedly ruined, and sometimes ended, lives. Nic has a new book out, We All Fall Down, which I just read in record (for me these days) time. The repeated trips to rehab, the 12 Steps that never were taken, and the disappointment that constantly waged war with the hope for a happy ending, made this book a real page turner. Knowing that Nic had relapsed after the original success he experienced with Tweak was disheartening, but this was one of those books that can cause a reader to hold their breath. Powerful.

Which brings me to the other part of my day. Perfectly lovely parents are not guaranteed that their children will escape the allure of hard drugs. I’ve been to some wakes and funerals over the years and too often they have been for people younger than myself. To witness a parent bury a child is to witness one of the deepest sorrows imaginable, and as a parent, I think it is impossible to attend these funeral services without projecting how one survives such a tragedy. I don’t want to ever know.

Addiction is an illness frequently accompanied by undiagnosed mental illness. Depression is common, as is a history of abuse, and self esteem issues. Closing the book on Nic Sheff’s struggles only to learn about a friend’s loss of their beloved child to addiction and depression, is nothing short of shockingly sobering. On Friday morning when I share books with students as part of their class’ requested “booktalks,” the Sheffs’ books will be included. While I’ve never subscribed to Nancy Reagan’s Just Say No policy, I will do my best to make sure that children Know the reality and perils of drug experimentation and addiction. And then, Friday night I will attend the wake of a friend’s child and do my part to offer consolation from the ultimate loss. We all fall down. I suppose that being surrounded by family and friends willing to support us, through our struggles and sorrows, is what allows us to keep picking ourselves up.

Unbroken

image from nytimesbestseller.net

I just finished an amazing book about a remarkable man. Unbroken by Laura Hillenbrand relates the absolutely inspiring life story of Louie Zamperini, an Olympic athlete, a soldier in the Pacific during World War II and, ultimately, a man who did not allow the extreme challenges in his life to permanently break him. Or, perhaps Louie’s story isn’t so much about how to deny life the opportunity to break oneself, but is instead a story that proves that it is the way we put the pieces back together, after being broken, that truly define us.

This excerpt, from when Louie began to run seriously, moved me.  Perhaps it was my own physical proximity to where he had been decades earlier, but I felt as if I knew exactly what he had experienced.

“…he went to stay at a cabin on the Cahuilla Indian reservation, in southern California’s high desert…He ran up and down hills, over the desert, through gullies…He didn’t run from something or to something, not for anyone or in spite of anyone; he ran because it was what his body wished to do.”

I imagine it looked like this…

Get this book for athletes, veterans, WW II history buffs, and anyone struggling with personal challenges. It is unforgettable.