State of Wonder

State of Wonder
By Ann Patchett (384 pages)
Published by Harper Perennial
Bookish rating: 4

Have I mentioned that one of my favorite reading combinations is escapism + non-stupidity? Well, it is, and State of Wonder serves up a delightfully non-stupid, escapist read--I mean, we get to go into the freaking Amazon!--in an intelligent, well-written novel.

Marina, a doctor now working for a pharmaceutical company, must go to the Amazon to get information about a co-worker who croaked under somewhat mysterious circumnstances. There, she must deal with her former mentor, who is working on a miracle drug for the company. There are anacondas, bugs, heat, foilage, and a surprising dose of made-up-yet-weirdly-believable science.

Marina's mentor, Dr. Swenson, is the strongest and most interesting character. She's super flawed, in a really fascinating way. We also meet a little deaf native boy who is extremely compelling---he probably generated the most conversation in our book club.

Patchett evokes the intimidating thickness of the Amazon, its hiding creatures, buzzing bugs, and the sense that the jungle itself is vibrating and alive. I had the joy of reading the last several chapters of this novel in a very hot, humid house after losing power during our "land hurricane," so I felt particularly immersed in the moist jungle world Patchett created.

If you're looking for a an old-fashioned good read that takes you to another world, along with good writing, State of Wonder should do the trick. Recommended.

The Gospel of Ruth

The Gospel of Ruth: Loving God Enough to Break the Rules

By Carolyn Custis James (224 pages)

Published by Zondervan

Bookish rating: 4

I must admit that I have a soft spot for Carolyn Custis James. She calls herself an “evangelical thinker,” which of course brings to mind images of Joel Olsteen and his too-many-teeth smile—at least until you get to the “thinker” part of phrase. At that point, the phrase sounds like an oxymoron.

But James is a thinker. And I heart her. Why? Because, like me, she is in that in-between spot between conservative Christianity’s steadfast nature and liberal Christianity’s let’s-love-everybody common sense. She has devoted her career to promoting greater leadership of women within the church and she is oh so skeptical of the whole wives-submit-to-your-husbands bit. (Disclosure: I’m a member of a “liberal” Protestant denomination, but not until after a lot of mental tug-of-war in which I came to believe that the traditional views on—and treatment of— women, gays, lesbians, and dinosaurs [evolution] were too black-and-white or, um, wrong.)

Although I suspect our opinions on many issues differ (or hey, maybe they don’t), James has done very, very good things for women.

In The Gospel of Ruth, James does an old-fashioned exegesis of the story of Ruth and her mother-in-law, Naomi, of the Old Testament. (I love the book of Ruth—in fact, our wedding ceremony centered on this text.) Instead of presenting the story of Ruth and her so-called rescuer, Boaz, as sentimental or romantic, James details the ancient Hebrew laws and customs, the historical context, and the entirely disenfranchised status of widows—especially those who have lost their children (read: sons) or are barren. In doing so, James shows how ballsy Ruth is—and what a rule breaker she is.

Ruth breaks all sorts of rules and customs aimed at keeping her down—or even protecting her—because she is a woman.

I won’t detail all of James’s theological points, but James herself makes a ballsy move by seriously challenging the wisdom of dissuading present-day women from making noise in their churches or becoming leaders. And yes, much to my delight, she (albeit very politely) deliberately and thoughtfully refuses to buy into the myth of wifely submission.

Friends, this is the first time I’ve ever read such words from an evangelical, or in a book published by Zondervan.

I hope that I’ve just been reading the wrong books.

James also does great favors for women by openly discussing miscarriage and infertility, or what the Old Testament would charmingly call “barrenness.” In the church, particularly more conservative ones, pregnancy, children, and raising children are highly lauded. Honestly, pregnancy loss might actually be dealt with BETTER in such churches, as the loss is never minimized. Everyone is very aware that a BABY has been lost, and that it is a great loss.

But infertility? No one talks about that. In today’s culture, even church culture, it’s devastating and isolating. In Ruth’s culture? During a famine? Your lack of status or sons to care for you could literally mean your death.

James, who struggled greatly to conceive, zeroes in on this aspect of Ruth’s story. She gives voice to the woman struggling to have a baby. It’s a powerful segment of the book.

James writes to a broad audience. Her book isn’t intended for PhD candidates seeking to get confused by big words or the nature of God. Though well researched and reasoned, The Gospel of Ruth is aimed at the lay reader. As such, the tone of her writing can be almost annoyingly polite. Or something. Personally, I like more edge, more voice to the tone of writing, even in the more scholarly stuff, and James’s writing voice is a bit on the bland side for me.

That said, there’s a lot of good stuff in The Gospel of Ruth, no matter where you land on the Christianity conservative-to-liberal scale. Recommended.

Wordiness

This blog is ultimately about words, so I’ve decided to devote a post to using them more economically and correctly.

Wait! Don’t leave! Keep reading! HEAR ME OUT!

See, one way to alienate your friends and acquaintances is to be that über annoying person who corrects grammar, saying, with a nose tilted upward, “Whom not who.”

Disclosure: Despite making a living with the word “editor” in my title, I don’t consider myself a “grammarian.” I lack deep, deep understanding of exactly how the English language is constructed, and I’d rather read an insipid Danielle Steel novel than debate split infinitives or whether “website” should be one word or two.

My grammatical wishy-washiness is not helped by the fact that my career started when publishing was very much in flux. When budgets for editorial work got cut, so did editorial standards. Publishers merging with other publishers often led to lack of oversight and quality control. The reduction of print and boom in online jabber have made the written word much more fluid and ongoing. Production schedules shrank. From what I understand, systems--and people--to train and mold grammar sticklers are now few and far between. The result is a freelance pool overflowing with poorly trained, unqualified editors who edit on the basis of what "sounds right." Of course, technology ain’t all bad. Programs abound that allow for manuscript tracking, redacting, detection of plagiarism, verification of references, and so on. Heck, even a simple PDF is highly searchable and incredibly useful if you need to check the consistency of a single word’s use throughout a 1,000-page book without losing two weeks of your life. The tools are there to improve editorial quality.

But no, I’m no grammarian. Mostly, I’m a rule-follower. I won’t take a stroller on an escalator, cross a street without a crosswalk AND a walk signal, or wear white after Labor Day. Thus, once I learn a grammar or editorial style rule, I follow it.

Less charmingly, I become sort of a stickler for it. I cringe when “impact” is used as a verb (which occurs in damn near every other sentence on CNBC) or a hyphen is used in place of an en dash.

That said, I get a tad annoyed when people freak out about a typo in the newspaper, or a minor inaccuracy in a book. Statements like, “The editor should’ve caught x, y, or z” from people who have no clue about publishing are aggravating. Readers really have no idea in what kind of condition that manuscript was submitted, what sort of prima donna author that editor is dealing with, that editor’s workload or pay scale, the quality of the copyeditor or proofreader the editor was stuck with, the deadlines forced on the publication, or the internal drama surrounding it.

Devoting a post to grammar, punctuation, or sloppy wordiness does little to dispel the notion that I copyedit or proofread for a living, which I’m pretty sure is what most of my family members think I do. I don’t. In fact, I don’t like to copyedit or proofread, because it’s really hard to do it well and you can't build an interesting career doing it (although you can bring in some extra cash). Most importantly, it’s BORING. Important  . . . but boring.

One thing that decent copyeditors can do is reduce word counts. Tight writing is a crucial part of good writing. Why, why, WHY use 9 words to say the same thing 1 or 2 might say?

So, for the good of the English language, I’ve managed to compile a list of obnoxious phrases I’ve recently come across and suggest words that can easily take their place (ahem, I mean substitute).

• the majority of = most
• is able to = can
• make the assumption that = assume
• has/have the ability to = can
• is defined as = is
• for a comparison of = to compare
• provided with = given
• my hope is that = I hope
• a multitude of = many
• would still be able to = could
• and therefore = , so
• put the emphasis on = emphasized
• for the purposes of = to
• the manner in which = how
• come to an understanding of = understand
• through the addition of = by adding

See, none of the original phrases is wrong. Each is simply wordier than necessary, at least within the context it was used.

Why do I tell you this? Mainly, to bring attention to the importance of words. To raise appreciation of the error-free Facebook status update (I hypocritically type this—mine are riddled with errors). To give credit to good basic writing that can then be tweaked, inverted, and pushed in the service of literature.

Words are important!

Red Hook Road

Red Hook Road
By Ayelet Waldman (343 pages)
Published by Doubleday
Bookish rating: 4.25

Red Hook Road has a horrifying yet catchy premise: A bride and groom are killed in an accident during the limo ride from their wedding to the reception.

What follows is four years of both families--the well-to-do bride's family and the working-class groom's family--coping with their losses.

Waldman takes a big risk with the novel's "inciting incident," which could have easily been reduced to a gimick or overdramatic, sentimental poo. Fortunately, Waldman steers clear of everything threatening to tank a novel about loss and premature death. In doing so, she illustrates the complexity and gravity the topic deserves.

That's not to say the novel is heartless. Waldman drops little bombs that are utterly overwhelming to anyone with a shred of maternal instinct. For example, Iris, the bride's mother, arrives on the accident scene and sees a body bag--and tiny strands of blond hair stick ever so slightly out of the bag's zipper. Hair she had brushed, blonde curls she delighted in, and on and on. Yeah, I had nightmares the night I read that scene.

The writing is very good, and the characters, particularly Iris, are well-drawn. Waldman, perhaps unintentionally, approaches the gruff character of Jane, the groom's mother, with some condescension. Jane is working-class, uneducated, small town, and Protestant, while Iris is well off, a literature professor at Columbia, living in New York City, and Jewish. Truthfully, the character of Jane seems to be written by Iris--and, well, Iris and the author are quite similar. Just saying.

That said, Iris's access to literature and music (her dad is a retired world-class violinist) takes the novel up yet another notch by deeply revering literature and music. Totally neccessary to the novel? Not really. But it's a nice perk.

Some back story gets a little long-winded, and the dialogue isn't always quite right, particularly that of a young girl in the novel. Another minor quibble? Waldman gives lovely descriptions of the lavender wedding colors and the decor inside the historical hall in Coastal Maine where the reception was supposed to occur, but the cover shows an outdoor wedding reception with peach tableclothes. I mean, really?

Overall, Waldman gives us a non-gimicky, non-cheesy, and non-sentimental novel that explores the deepest kind of grief. Recommended.

The Lonely Polygamist

The Lonely Polygamist
By Brady Udall (624 pages)
Published by W. W. Norton & Company
Bookish rating: 4

Obviously, the irony of The Lonely Polygamist is right there in the title. How can a dude with four wives and close to thirty children be lonely?

But lonely our male polygamist lead, Golden, is. In this rather long novel, Udall examines the dynamics and weirdness of polygamy. Although I do think that Udall glosses over some extremely problematic aspects of polygamy (e.g., sexual exploitation of young girls, its community's often cult-like isolation), his nonjudgmental approach allows characters to be more fully developed. Overall, I Udall's overall portrayal of polygamy is too freaking rosy, but that rosiness also differentiates the novel from other literature and tell-alls dealing with the topic (e.g., The Chosen One [which I highly recommend], The 19th Wife, Escape).

With a cast as large as Golden's huge family, Udall neccessarily focuses only a select few: Golden, the husband; Trish, the discontented and bored fourth wife; and Rusty, the neglected and somewhat wacky child. Through these three main characters, Udall manages to effectively illustrate the power struggles and competition among wives; the kids' yearning for attention, the chaos of almost 30 kids; the preciousness of each child's life, even in the midst of SO MANY of them; the pressure to PROVIDE for everyone; and so on.

The novel has no overarching plot; instead, it moves forward with a simmering pressure, and eventually all hell breaks loose at the climax. It works. That said, Udall's writing can get a tad long-winded, and at over 600 pages, it's really not neccessary. He also does a LOT of jumping back and forth, depending heavily on flashbacks. For the most part, jumping backward timewise works just fine, but it can get distracting.

Overall, The Lonely Polygamist is a must-read for anyone interested in the bizarre world of polygamy. The characters are incredibly drawn, the writing is simultaneously heartbreaking and hilarious (especially when we have Rusty's point of view), and the nuances of the family life are extremely believable. Recommended.

Bicycle Days

Bicycle Days
By John Burnham Schwartz (253 pages)
Published by Summit Books
Bookish Rating: 3.5

Schwartz does a lot of things right in this coming-of-age story of a young American college grad working a stint in Japan. Initially published in 1989 as Japan--and the rest of the world, I suppose--was starting to capitalize on high-tech, the novel is definitely dated--but in a sort of historical way (when is the last time you heard the phrase "word-processing terminal"?).

Schwartz effectively evokes the out-of-placeness of Alec, Tokyo city life, and Japanese culture. However, the novel seems overwritten. Schwartz simply tries too hard. Alec has all sorts of flashbacks to his parents arguing and their eventual divorce, which I guess he decides to emotionally work through while in Japan. Why? I don't know. I'm not sure Schwartz does either. I guess he needed some sort of Deep Mental Conflict or something. I dunno.

Alec wants to view himself as deeply pensive and troubled, which eventually climaxes in a seaside town when he's feeling particularly deep one morning and goes into an inexplicable funk. I didn't buy it.

Other things just didn't fit. For example, Alec goes to visit the grandparents of the girl he's screwing in a remote village. He stays there for a few days, having more Deep Thoughts. Again, readers are left clueless as to why he went there. It just seemed weird.

Finally, the women, who are Japanese, are portrayed in what I think tends to be a typical way for American men: docile geisha girls. Schwartz tries to sidestep what is essentially a sexist and racist portrayal by making one girl smart, kind, and--to prove how progressive he is, I guess--an old lady in her early 30s. And she is, of course, exotically beautiful, with a "swan neck, and, despite charming deference during the day, she's wild in bed at night. Of course.

Lust interest #2 is essentially a hooker, whom Alec meets in a set-up catering to businessmen.

Overall, the book is good enough. Though significantly flawed, it's not bad, and it has some good things going for it. I admit that while reading it, I craved hot sake and sushi, neither of which are particularly recommended for pregnant women such as myself. As a temporary escapist trip to the Japan of 20+ years ago, the novel is fine but not really recommended.

The Thin Man

The Thin Man
By Dashiell Hammett (201 pages)
Published by Vintage
Bookish rating: 4

I'm about 80 years late to the party on this one, but the fact that Hammett's mystery novel is still in print speaks to its awesomeness.

In this super sexy mystery, which takes place in the early thirties (when--duh--it was written), a former private detective, Nick Charles, gets sucked into a murder mystery. Not only do we get to enter the atmospheric world of New York City speakeasies and morning cocktails, but we also get a witty comedy of manners to boot. The dialogue, Nick's narration and wry observations, and characters such as his wife, Nora (based on Hammett's real-life main squeeze Lillian Hellman) are in addition to a complex, clever mystery. Or perhaps vice versa.

The amount of alcohol consumed by Nick and his peeps makes the guys of Mad Men seem like lightweights. I could argue--and if I had more time, I would--that alcohol itself is a main character. The writing and language is 1930s perfection--I mean, when is the last time you read the phrase, "What a dame!"?

Finally, the character of Nora fascinated me. I'm extremely familiar with Lillian Hellman (fun fact: there's yet another new biography out on her, which I haven't read and thus can't vouch for, but I CAN vouch for this Lillian Hellman biography, which came out in paperback last summer), but to see her mannerisms and character via Nick (meaning, via Hammett) has always been somewhat of a missing piece for me.

I plan to read the rest of Hammett's work, including the lesser known novels. In the meantime, read this one. Preferably with a scotch. And if you're not a scotch drinker, well, just make a very strong cocktail, sit back with some jazz playing in the background, and try to integrate the word dame into your next conversation (in a nonsexist way, please).