Tag: reading

book-review, books, read around the world, reading, time travel

Time travelling

k4books

If you were able to go back in time, would you? What if there are all sorts of rules that you need to abide by to do this? You have to sit in a specific cafe, at a specific chair, and not get up. You can only meet someone who had been in the cafe, and the present will not change. And you only have as much time there as it takes for the cup of coffee you were served to go cold.

That is the truth about a small cafe in Japan that has been serving coffee for over 100 years. Urban legend has been published, but most are scared away by the rules. This book, Before the Coffee Gets Cold translated from Toshikazu Kawaguchi’s Japanese best seller by Geoffrey Trousselot, tells the story of four people who are driven to make the choice to sit in this chair. Each has their own reasons for doing this. One goes back to confront a man who left her, one is seeking to receive a letter from her husband’s early onset Alzheimers, another to see her sister one more time, and the last to meet the daughter she has not been able to meet. All while knowing they need to wait for the seat to be empty, as it is occupied by a ghost that didn’t drink her cup of coffee in time.

The beautiful reasons why they choose to go, and the unexpected ways these visits unfold are nothing short of love stories. Written tenderly, even in translation, each woman that goes is motivated by love – unrequited, romantic, familial and maternal. Each visit, while not changing the present, has significant impact on each of these women.

The way the stories unfold is comforting and the language evokes a dark and cool underground cafe in Japan. A gentle read of love and the possibilities of reliving a moment in time.

It may be an ironic way to end 2020, but it does bring hope.

book-review, Historical Fiction

As the year winds up

k4books

As I look back at the last installment of this blog, I realize I have not been reading much at all. My near constant review of Goodreads.com or the library website available ebooks has significantly fallen off. One friend just posted they made their goal of 50 books, and I realize that I had been within striking distance for months but have not gotten over the line. That was when I started to have the desire to read come back.

As I started to feel this way, I started at my own bookcase. I have a few “easy starters” ready, but they actually were put aside when I started planning and cooking for Thanksgiving. Yes, I made a 15 pound turkey with all the sides, got out the good china and set the dinning room table for just my four. We have these, so we need to use them. More stress from work, and I finally started to get bored with the holiday movies on Hallmark. It was inevitable. I usually ban these things until after Thanksgiving, but I started to indulge much earlier this year – early to mid November. The shorter days, lack of vacation, and general lack of leaving my house is getting to me. I needed a book to get me out of myself. One book group I have fallen behind on this year had just read Finding Dorothy, which I had recommended. I found it at the library and read the first chapter. I was engaged, but fell asleep. The exhaustion of life has been getting to me and I am sleeping fitfully if at all, so when it happens I go with it.

Then I start to knit again. My friend had a baby at 24 weeks, and we have all been on pins and needles. He is growing well, and is now over six months, breathing on his own, but not yet home from the NICU. I start to knit his baby “lovey” and blanket in hopes I will be able to finish before he makes it home in late January, early February. As I sit doing this, I go to hoopla and download The Queen’s Gambit. Again, this captures my attention, and with the novice knitter I am, I have plenty of time to listen to the book.

The listen is absolutely worth it. I may need to pull apart three days of work because I can’t figure out how I have extra stitches, and I have no idea what row I am on, but at least I have this book as my outcome from all the effort.

The story could have gone in many directions, but remained focused on the main character and the insular world she has built herself. The other avenues, while they are ways I would love to explore, are closed to us, as the protagonist has closed them to herself. She has control only on the chess board, and does not allow herself to explore much outside that. Taking from that, also, the writing shows options of how choices are reviewed and examined, but as the pieces of life move, you respond based upon the plan you have made. Beth’s actual playing is reflected in the choices she makes in the book, each mirroring back to the other. When things go differently than expected, she acts rashly and ultimately learns that bad choices can take her farther from herself and any goals she may have. She also learns that it is not enough to want something – you need to work for it.

This all makes more sense after you read the book, but I don’t want to give away too much here. Suffice this to say, it was an engaging book, with characters you care about but not too much, a game that most don’t fully understand, and a metaphor for how to live a life.

book-review, Family Drama, literature

A return to reading

k4books

This year has been very different from anything anyone has ever experienced.  The COVID-19 life has been full of fear, isolation, and stress.  Many people with kids (of all ages) are watching them struggle with the new normal of not seeing people they care about, more screen time then we ever thought we would allow, and generalized anxiety about how this impacts them.  That last one will tip you off that I have teenagers.

In this atmosphere I am working to maintain my own identity.  My brain has not been able to process things as well as I used to.  I am spending hours playing solitaire; I pick up books just to put them down; and I don’t even spend the time finding new titles online.

Then we went on vacation.

I should tell you now that I have been known to not move for a week, except to turn pages.  I spent a week on Martha’s Vineyard and read 8 books while still spending time with the group of people I went with.  We were headed to the ocean with my in-laws, so I needed to make sure I had things to do.  I packed a book and an eReader.  First, I read The Ambassador’s Daughter by Pam Janoff.  The characters seemed familiar but I couldn’t place them until I posted on goodreads.com.  This is a prequel to The Kommandant’s Girl and The Diplomat’s Wife.  Each story can stand on its own, and I read them years apart.  Each was an interesting take on the world, but nothing was earth shattering.

Then I started reading the only other thing I had downloaded – The House by the River by Lena Manta.  The story of a strong woman who followed love, made a life for herself and her five daughters, and watched them grow and leave the small village under Mount Olympus.  The story of each child is then told, each left with their own goals and choices, and lived their lives.  In the end, the power of love, and the hope to start anew bring the women all together again, wiser and more aware of the good place they came from.

This has stuck with me.  My mother made so many choices for her three daughters, and we have all gone away to live our own lives.  Each of us, in our own way, has found our way back to mom and the comfort of the love and familiarity of where we came from.  The women’s lives were lived full of passion and adventure, either by direct path or not.  Born from love, they sought that out, if at first or not.  The stories of these sisters have pointed me back to myself.  In order to survive and thrive I must live fully with the choices I have made and the places it has taken me.  If I do not, I would not be true to the parents that raised me to be fearless.

Now, I am fearlessly reading books again, even if I have been stopping the heavier reads and going to more non-fiction, it is reading.  And I feel better.

 

book-review, books, Family Drama, reading

Glass Houses

k4books

Choosing a book, I went to my bookshelf and found Proof of Heaven by Eben Alexander. After that was finished I found A Gift from the Sea by Anne Morrow Lindberg. Then my colleague Nigel suggested I read The Happy Prince by Oscar Wilde. Each of the books, a scientific search for understanding a near death experience, a reflection on life and its every stage, and a tale of giving of yourself to heal others all pointed me on a path away from sadness, and toward a purpose. Then, as if by magic, the library’s electronic version of Emily St John Mandel’s The Glass Hotel was available.

If you don’t know by now, Ms. St John Mandel’s Station Eleven has been on many “To Read” lists because it was a novel that predicted a pandemic like the flu that decimated the economies of the world and killed millions. It was a brilliant story, well written and so believable that it was eerie when COVID-19 showed up. I was eager to read her new novel. The story is written over a number of years, by a number of characters. The story weaves them in and out of each other’s lives. At the core is Vincent, a woman from Vancouver who lost her mother to a canoeing accident when she was about 12. Her half brother, Paul, comes into her life after a stint in rehab for drugs, running from the law because he shared some bad drugs with someone who died from them. Through back and forth stories we next see them at an exclusive Hotel Caiette on an island in British Columbia. The place is owned by Jonathan Alkaitis, who works in finance and owns the hotel. One night someone writes in acid ink “Why don’t you swallow broken glass” on the window of the hotel, shaking a guest, Leon Prevant, to his core. As time continues, we find that Paul, who worked at the hotel as a cleaner, was accused of the graffiti and left the next morning, and Vincent, his sister was working as a bartender that night. That night was when Jonathan gave her his business card with money as his tip.

As the story unwinds, there are small and large choices that are made by each of the players. Knowingly or not, or as one person states – knowing and not knowing together – each is faced with a question. How easy is it for you to cross the line? Some choose to stand on the morals they claim to have, while others are surprised when they cross them in hind-sight. It is this struggle between our actions and out beliefs that are the moral of the story. That, and the interconnectedness of each person to another. Throughout the changes and years, each remains connected bringing into question the idea of coincidence – is it real or is there a cosmic plan?

In the end, it is those with self-knowledge that are aware of the impact others have on them and the price to be paid for not crossing the line.

By the way – I don’t believe that it was a coincidence that these books came to me in that order.

 

books

To My Dad

k4books

My father died March 21, 2020. He had celebrated his 90th birthday in February, and was ready to go. While he knew he was loved by his family, I live 800 miles away. With the country starting on lock down, and borders being closed, the idea of driving from my home in Massachusetts to my parents in Michigan was becoming a nightmare. If we even made the 12 hour trip through Canada, where the borders were closing, or 14 hours around the lakes, we didn’t know if there would be restaurants or gas stations open for us on the way. Since my parents had just moved into an apartment on March 3, I didn’t even have somewhere to stay if I actually made it there. So I live streamed the funeral with my family here. Staring at the bench my father teased his mother-in-law about all my life. It was like he made sure I would smile thinking of him. He knew I was there.

While I know in my head he is gone, the reality of seeing a coffin and watching it lower into the ground, and then the worst sound in the entire world – that of dirt hitting a coffin – are missing for me. It was three days after the funeral when I finally had a visit from my dad in my dreams. He was letting me know it was ok that I didn’t come, because I still needed to hear that.

My dad’s good opinion of me was everything. The last three times I saw him we both made sure that we knew that we loved each other and that nothing needed to be forgiven or explained. We had made that peace. I wanted to honor him in ways that reflected on our relationship. We had both loved Hemingway’s writing. Not only were we admirers of the clean clear sentence structure, but we both felt a connection to the writer. The summer camp my father helped build with his friend, the one that my dad sent his three daughters to, was next door to the property that Hemingway had. The Nick Adams stories were written about this place. The Horton Bay General Store is real, and we have been there. I read In Our Times in his honor. The stories I had loved so much, however, fell flat for me this reading. I did go back to our conversations about Sherwood Anderson, and it made me smile to think of our discussions on the stories that made up Winesburg Ohio. But I didn’t feel closer to him.

As time moved on, and I began to heal, my daily life and routines kept me going. I started to pick up more at work, and started reading more too. I ended up looking at my bookshelf, since we can’t go to the library, and a book called to me. Proof of Heaven by Eben Alexander. The true story of a neurosurgeon’s Near Death Experience. When I was reading about his experience, and the fact that the thing he learned was that we were all loved and we can’t do anything to make that stop, I sobbed. I thank my dad for reminding me that we had that love. No matter what. Nothing I do in this life will ever change that.

In the world of crisis we live in, send out the love. That is all that matters. That is the start and the end of it. Let go of all else. Connectedness matters. I was told today about an affirmation someone was given – you are enough. She passed it on for herself, but I hear it for me too. We are all enough.

The world is trying to remind me of the love I am missing. I will do my best to honor you all the rest of my days. I love you daddy.

book-review, Family Drama

The Crawdads are Singing

k4books

As this isolation continues, we all seem to be searching for something more. Is there something or someone out there orchestrating this? Is this the beginning of the end? Is there someone to lead us to safety like Neo “the one” Anderson in The Matrix?

Humans are in need of a pack. Families are one, friends are another. What happens when these disappear? Just as with other species, those that appear weak are cast out. Isolation is the theme throughout Where the Crawdads Sing by Delia Owens. With heartbreaking clarity, the detailed discoveries of an amazing young child on nature, supported by the author’s own degrees and work in Zoology, focus on the need for others to make us whole. The actions of the “flock” to someone not quite their own are also explored. While more can be said on the underlying tensions and actions that set things in motion, in our current world, it is the isolation that drew me in the most.

At the age of 5, Kya watches as her mother walks down the path and out of her life, never to return. Kya is left with her brother Jodie, 8 years older, and their father, an abusive drunk. When Jodie leaves after a beating, Kya is left alone with her father, until he also disappears. With almost no money, she begins to build a life. She walks to the Piggly Wiggly barefoot, as she has no shoes, and is shunned by “proper women” as dirty and bad because she lives in the Marshes of South Carolina with no money. No one truly reaches out to help. As she begins to become reliant on herself, she digs oysters in an effort to not take charity. She strikes up a deal with Jumpin, a black man that buys her oysters and smoked fish, and in return makes sure she is watched over and given items she needs. With his wife Mabel, these social outcasts in the south (blacks in the US in 1950 knew of her torment, but made a family together), they made sure she had clothing, supplies, and people to turn to for information and help. All in a manner that would be acceptable to Kya. There was no need for thanks, no glory requested for good deeds. They simply took care of someone in a manner that the receiver needed it.

As we continue our isolation through this virus, we need to make sure that we all open up to those in need. Blaming someone for having the virus, or passing it on by mistake is the same as blaming Kya for being abandoned. Have compassion for those around you, especially the most vulnerable. It is in times like these where the true heroes are found. Those that help with no need to tell others. Those that don’t even think they are doing anything extraordinary.

Today, do something for someone else that they need, without asking, and in a way that makes it easy for them to accept with grace.

In the end, that is all we have.

book-review, books, literature, memoir, Non-Fiction, reading, romance, Science Fiction

Happy Stories for Stressful Times

k4books

In this crazy time of social distance, self-isolation and quarantine, there is nothing better than curling up and escaping with a good book. I spend a ton of time doing this. In order to keep up our spirits, I thought I would share some titles that are fun and enjoyable to help the time go. In no order other than the one that I thought of first:

A Man Called Ove: All about a grumpy man that finds his solitary world turned on its head when a young family moves in next door. He becomes engaged despite his best intentions, leaving you smiling all along.

An Odyssey: A Father, a Son, and an Epic: Eighty-one-year-old Jay Mendelsohn enrolls in an undergraduate seminar his son teaches on the Odyssey. Explores both the story and their relationship. Sweet tribute to his father.

Born a Crime: Stories From a South African Childhood: Trevor Noah’s memoir of growing up in South Africa and coming to America to host The Daily Show on Comedy Central.

Daisy Jones & The Six: A fictional band who’s only album is an anthem for 70’s rock and roll broke up and no one knows why – until now. Hearing this story is a bit like Almost Famous, but even better.

Mrs. Queen Takes the Train: What would happen if the Queen of England went on a stroll without the knowledge of her courtiers? Find out here.

Roommates Wanted: 1990, Toby Dobbs is gifted a house for a wedding gift from his father. One month later his wife leaves, and Toby advertises for roommates. 15 years later they are still there. How to move forward in his life, now that his father is about to show up for the first time in 15 year? Smile and read on.

The Daily Show: An Oral History: How the show came into being, hosts changed, and how the show changed the country. As a fan of the show, and of Jon Stewart, I loved reading the behind the scenes and remembering when I first watched the shows/events they mentioned.

The Martian: A young adult book that had my son at the opening line (“I am F*&^*&%). I loved it because it was fun, stressful, and funny.

The Most Beautiful Book in the World: Eight Novellas: Eight separate stories populated by a wide cast of characters, all exploring what beauty is.

The One and Only: Love of football and romance combine in this story of a super football fan with a crush on the legendary head coach, her best friend’s father.

book-review, books, reading, Science Fiction

What Station am I at?

k4books

Every day life gets weirder. Fewer people are working in the office. Streets normally bustling are empty. No rush hour traffic. All of this makes me grow more spooked.

As a new convert to the dystopian genre, I don’t have that many books to reference back to. I have always expected things to happen like Orwell’s 1984 with the government tracking your every move. All they need is access to your fitbit or iphone. If they want to get rid of your books, like Bradbury’s Fahrenheit 451 just access your hoopladigital or amazon account. Say what you want about who is in charge in government, but to me, it certainly feels that all pigs are equal, just some more equal than others (another shout out to Orwell.) Access to birth control and OBGYN doctors is so limited, and fertility treatments are so expensive, its just time before we are all looking like handmaids.

But Emily St. John Mandel’s book Station Eleven is haunting me right now. Four years after I read it. In her story everyone started to catch colds and die. Only some survive, and no one knows why or how. Self isolation had been part of the story, too. As I remain in my home with my family, keeping away from others who may have been in contact with people that have been tested positive, it makes me wonder. Will I need to strike out to find others?

The bonus of being isolated is there is plenty of time to catch up on my reading. Let me know if there is anything you think I should pick up during this incredibly strange time.

books, reading

Awesomeness of Reading

k4books

This week my company had its first ever Global Employee Forum. A speaker at the forum was Neil Pasricha. Neil has written the popular The Book of Awesome and has been an inspired TedTalk speaker, among many other accomplishments. For those who have seen his talks, you know his incredible story of how he found his voice in the world. During his talk about how to find “happy” he suggests three ways to do this. First – walk in the forest. It seems the trees create a chemical reaction within us that makes us happy. Second – journal every day. Write down something that went well to continue to relive it happening, and then feel good about it when you read what you have written. A good thing that keeps giving. Third – read 20 pages a day. Of Fiction. From a book. This will transport you from where you are to a new place.

Well, DUH.

The whole reason why I have been reading my whole life is to escape from what reality around me was. I was never a popular kid in grade school, made fun of throughout my childhood, and felt invisible. I hid in these books, where I was able to be part of something without being judged. This year has started off in a difficult manner, and to be honest, I have averaged 90 pages a day to take me to another reality where I wouldn’t feel so much pain and loss. I have used reading to expand upon my world. Just because I haven’t travelled to 50 states doesn’t mean I can’t glean something of what the world there is from a book – the lush but hot world of the Hawaiian Islands or the rough and unforgiving Alaskan winters. I continue to push myself, with you sharing in my journey, to read around the globe, and open myself to new cultures and experiences. I may have started this as an exploration of how times have changed in my lifetime, and now look to expand my understanding of other’s experiences in this world.

Does this reading make me “happier?” Maybe. I know it frustrates my husband when I get lost in a book or I am so filled with emotions from the story I take it out on him. I know I have things to talk about with just about anyone, from a small child just introduced to The Runaway Bunny to senior executives in my firm about my favorite format for reading – ebook or paperback.

I am very proud that people know me as a reader. My boss thought of me when she heard of a book group at work. My daughter asked me to drive a friend home and by way of directions she said “now drive to your favorite place, the library, and it’s the third house after that.” I have experienced many lives through my reading, and hopefully I have become a more sensitive, understanding and accepting person by having been open to learning of how other people have lived and survived.

So, if you see me smiling for no reason, its probably because I just met a new friend in a new place, and we are off on a new adventure. And I am happy about that.

African Experience, Black Experience, book-review, literature, read around the world

Stories from Africa

k4books

As I begin reading through my list of books to be read, I check out Say You’re One of Them by Uwem Akpan. As I turn to start the book, I am met by a map of Africa. I see the following countries highlighted for me: Sierra Leone, Liberia, Benin, Gabon, Nigeria, Niger, Ethiopia, Kenya, and Rwanda. There are so many countries on this continent – and yet all of these are part of this book. I start to think about my arm chair travelling.

Without fully comprehending until the first story has finished, I begin to realize the richness of the collection that is before me. With as many religions as languages throughout Africa, this is an extremely complex and confusing place. A continent that had been under siege, either by force or not, the contradictions that the people bring on to themselves is so sad, especially in the context of the children’s eyes we are looking through. Africa is a story of stolen children’s lives.

Each story begins with innocence, and ends in terror, or death. The capacity for hatred, and for adjusting to survive, are just a hairs breath away from each other. We have heard of the terrors on tv, but these stories, told from a child’s point of view, kick you harder. Where innocence should be, there is nothing but wariness and fear. There is no way this will not impact the future generations and how they relate to each other and themselves.