Some books are moving, some books are funny, some make your stomach turn. Today I bring to you a book that will do all that and more – Lucia Etxebarria’s Un Milagro En Equilibrio (A Miracle in Equilibrium).
First of all – a disclaimer – I am not a mother, only a daughter, so if any of you mothers out there disagree with me on anything – that’s OK. The book’s narrative is quite simple – Eva, a successful yet self-doubting writer, gives birth to a baby girl. She then sits down to write a memoir in which she describes her life before motherhood to her daughter, so as to someday let her know who her mother is, without embellishing the gory stuff.
This is a book that is so real and speaks so much to women of my generation, it sometimes hurts. The brutally frank discussion of the fight to become independent, of the difficulty of leaving your past (and childhood) behind, the ways in which we think of ourselves as feminist, liberated women but sometimes behave like we know nothing about it, and many many more issues are at the heart of what every young career woman out in the dating pool is going through.
The book also offers a poignant look into one of the most complex relationships in nature – the relationship between a mother and her daughter. As one of two sisters growing up with a single mother, this is one subject I can never get enough of, and Etxbarria jumps into it feet first.
All in all, a very refreshing and recommended book, sparing you nothing but still keeping it readable and not too scary. Have fun!
I am leaving you with a song about one of the most (if not the most) iconic mothers – The Beatles’ ” Lady Madonna”:
Long time since our last meeting…went through a very hectic (but good) period and I’m back in full force.
Generally I read only fiction, with very few exceptions. For me reading is about going on a journey to other people’s lives and minds, and the human situation is what fascinates me. Therefore I tend to skip non-fiction.
But – for every rule there is the exception, and today I am here to share with you my experience in reading a magical book – The Orientalist by Tom Reiss. This is the true story of a Jewish writer and author called Lev Nussimbaum and his remarkable life story – running away from the Bolsheviks and than the Germans, his literary career, his fascination with everything oriental and his conversion to Islam, his tumoltous love and family life- all this before his early death at the age of 36.
This book opens a real-life Aladdin’s cave of treasures and looks into the many facets of the life of an extremely intelligent and talented, but also risk-seeking and complex man.
It is also a journey into a world that no longer exists – Baku and its oil magnates, Berlin and Vienna bustling with cultural life in which the Jewish community has a prominent role, Paris as the capital of Russian immigrants escaping the Bolsheviks – worlds that have died away, and which Reiss has succeeded in bringing to life with the help of the bery last few living witnesses of these places and times.
I came across this book completely by chance in my trip to Georgia, when in a very rainy day we found refuge at Prospero’s – the best English book store in Tbilisi. The thing I really rregret is that at the time I had no knowledge of the person the book spoke about, so I left behind a copy of Nussimbaum’s masterpiece Ali and Nino: A Love Story (written under the pseudonim Kurban Said). I hope to rectify this and find a copy somewhere.
As my trip was, among other things, a discovery of the fantastic world of the land of the Caucasus, parts of The Orientalist really took me back to the beautiful scenery, the kindness of the people and the sense that everyone has a place.
The book is filled with the mystery and magic that is often present in real life but difficult to put into words. Tom Reiss has done a marvelous job and created a book that is not only a biography but a poem and a eulogy. It was moving and fantastic. You should give it a try.
If any of you has suggestions for other surprise masterpieces I’ll be very happy to hear about them.
As you already know, I am an avid reader, and reading is not only one of my favorite things to do but is also something I feel really constitutes a big part of who I am.
When I was younger I had a habit of never leaving a book I started reading, even if I didn’t like it. As I grew older I became (a little) less strong-headed and also realized that if I don’t seem to “click” with a certain a book, there are two possibilities:
1. I really don’t like the book. In this case – why suffer? Better go on to something more enjoyable.
2. This is not the right timing for me to meet this book. I have let a few books “ripe” in my library, and to my surprise a book I could not get over page 20 in at one point was read in one continous read three years later.
That said, I sometimes go through periods in which I find it very difficult to read anything. These episodes are rare, but they do happen. They make me wonder – is there a “Reader’s Block” similar to a writer’s block?
Lately I find myself picking one book after another, reading a few dozen pages and leaving them for a later date, or moving very slowly through them. I started getting worried until I found this lovely book – The Oxford Murders (Crímenes imperceptibles) by Argentinian author GuillermoMartínez – an enjoyable, easy to read, intelligent little thriller that I finished in two days’ reading on the bus on my way to work.
Although I am still struggling with other books I started, this gave me hope that this phase shall and can pass.
I am not a very big comedy fan. In many cases it doesn’t really make me laugh, and situation comedy causes me great anxiety (No! Not that one! The other one! There! He just left through the other door! etc. Not amusing).
The little comedy I do like is British humor. Here, as with detective stories, the British rule supreme. Their comedy (or at least the kind of comedy I like) has a streak of sadness or complexity, as it speaks of life and the funny bitter-sweet or horrible but still laughable things we live with. To write these comedies one has to have a discerning eye for detail, a deep understanding of human behavior, irony and compassion – not bad traits for an author.
It is therefore not surprising that some of Britain’s great comedians have turned out to be excellent authors as well. Today I will present two of my personal favorites, and I will be happy to be introduced to more such authors.
First and Foremost – Sthephen Fry. This genuine multi-talent is one of the funniest, saddest, most interesting people on earth. Do take a moment to examine the extent and breadth of his work – it’s amazing. Alone and with friends he has written and participated in some of the most hilarious comedy you will ever set eyes on.
As an author he remains highly entertaining yet touching, bordering on some heavy issues in a refreshing and intelligent manner. of the novels he published I read The Hippopotamus (highly amusing) and Making History (fantastic), and The Stars’ Tennis Balls is next on my reading list. Not to be missed!
The Eedgier Option – Julian Clary. This fantastic comedian has made a carrer of being sarcastic, mean and over-the-top camp. He just tears me up. When I stumbled upon his first novel, Murder Most Fab, in a second-hand book store, I just had to have it. And it didn’t disappoint. Funny, shocking and a great read, with the added bonus of an interview with the author at the end of the book. Very much recommended. I understand he has written another novel, Devil in Disguise, and I definitely intend to read it.
Well, some of my story-hoarding friends may find this hard to believe or even offensive, but to me there is nothing like a good detective story. A lower art, some may say, but I beg to differ – a good detective story is a masterpiece of the imagination and the mind. They are smart books, but to my taste – not geekish. A true pleasure.
In this art form the British definitely set the tone, and today I will discuss three of my all time favorites. I provide no specific recommendations – anything by these authors is definitely worth reading.
The father of all detectives. The mesmerizing story lines, the enigmatic, charismatic character of Sherlock Holmes and the comic and emotional relief the character of Dr. Watson brings to the stories combine into a thrilling, challenging and highly enjoyable series of books and stories. Holmes’ powers of deduction and his encyclopedic knowledge in various scientific and cultural realms is fascinating.
Ms. Christie lived in a man’s world but managed to express her extraordinary talent, introducing two of the most unlikely but shrewd detectives – the flamboyant (and probably gay) Hercule Poirot and the seemingly frail old spinster, Miss Marple. These two exhibit a surprising acute perception of minute details in the ongoings around them, making for many books that have a fantastic mixture of a sensitively described social scene, a humorous take on that same scene and the detectives themselves, and great suspense.
Don’t you just adore a man that is both a hard-working, no-nonsense police officer and a sensitive, tortured poet? This author is much more modern than the previous two, and her books reflect that in the more complex, full characters she presents and in letting us into the lives of both victims, murderers and the people who investigate the crimes. Apart from being wonderfully and thoughtfully written, these books offer a wonderful mixture of great detective work and pure old good story telling.
Do you have more recommendations for great detective books?
Some people (mostly men) wrongly refer to Jane Austen books as ‘chic books’. Although there is nothing wrong with chic books (I confess to having a soft spot for Little Women and Jane Eyre, hard-core chic books), treating Jane Austen books as such degrades the work of a great artist, focusing on form rather than substance.
It is undeniably true that each and every one of her books features a young heroine going through some sort of journey or crisis on the way to finding the man she will eventually marry and setting out to the horizon on the exciting life of a married woman. BUT where other people see only the romance, I see sharp and poignant social criticism of the situation of women in society at the time and the mechanisms ensuring things will not change, including inheritance laws, unavailability of education for women and the most effective tool of all – pressures from other women. Though her books are comic, to me they have a rebellious streak which echoes in my heart, as unfortunately we girls are not done fighting for our rights yet.
Yes, yes, I know, you all adore Emma. I’m sorry – to me she seems like a not very bright spoiled brat. Of all Austen’s heroines, only Catherine Morland is more stupid than Emma, and is therefore my least favorite. I like the more sensible Austen girls – Lizzie Bennet and Elinor Dashwood, and Lizzie is my all time favorite.
In a scene that explains in the best way why I love Lizzie so much, Mr. Darcy – the man most women in the country would kill to marry – proposes to Lizzie in the rudest possible way, explaining that although she is clearly quite beneath his class and could in no way be considered a good match for him, he finds himself inexplicably attached to her. In a response that always makes me go: “Go Lizzie! Go Lizzie!” she makes the socially suicidal and courageous act of throwing him the hell out. FANTASTIC.
I do recommend each and every one of Miss Austen’s books. They provide a look into the difficult lives of young women in a different era.
I leave you with a clip from the fantastic 1995 BBC mini-series adaptation of Pride and Prejudice(Attention:Addictive!)
One of the great things about establishing a blog is that whatever you write is OK – it is all a matter of opinion, and you are expressing yourself. That said, the next post might cause some aggravation to fellow readers who do not agree with my views. I apologize for any inconvenience, but I have to be heard on this matter.
Every now and then I come across a work of art – a book, a film, a play – that is considered to be very good or even a masterpiece, and sometimes really is very good, except for one flaw – the main character seems to be riding the fast lane for self destruction for no apparent reason.
You might argue that people don’t always act in a reasonable way, and being the emotional being that I am I would of course have to agree.
Nevertheless, to me, the character’s actions should be explainable in terms of the character’s inner world and motivations as reflected in the story. Random or unjustifiable acts of suicide disguised as acts of love/heroism/despair/folly just don’t do it for me. There has to be something more.
To demonstrate my point, here are several examples of such annoying acts in otherwise very good books:
This one really bugged me. After leading a life that’s mostly lead in his own mind, Oscar attempts to kill himself, which is reasonable within the scope of the story. He later goes on a suicidal mission of love, which thanks to the author’s great talent is compelling and even moving, but really uncalled for. It greatly annoyed me and made me dislike the main character immensely.
The mother of all annoying characters. That she is frustrated with her small suburban life is understandable. Even sleeping with the neighbor can somehow be within reason, but the final act April commits seemed to me to be the ultimate act of an aging drama queen. It really left me unmoved and cold – a rare state for me.
Tolstoy must have really had it for his leading lady. To be honest, she is quite an annoying character throughout the book, but when she commits suicide for no reason, with no explanation, be it external or internal, I felt betrayed. People don’t jump in front of trains just because. This is no light matter, and should have been treated in a more intelligent manner.
What are your feelings regarding these heroes and heroines?
As a Jewish Ashkenazi woman who was born in a Spanish speaking country and immigrated as a child, I consider myself as having a broad perspective on the issues of identity, Latin culture, Jewish culture and immigration. Although I am not Hispanic, I did grow up in a home steeped in Latin culture and Spanish is my mother tongue. The memories of immigration are also very fresh in my mind.
Therefore ,when I come across books that tell the stories of Latin immigrants, their family life and adjustment to their new surroundings, I am greatly moved. Here are two recommendations of books I recently read that tell such stories:
Let’s face it: I am a big sucker for historical sagas, especially ones that portray the legacy of generations of women.
This book is not as very complex one, but it has everythingyou can ask for in a book of its kind: exotic scenery, moving love stories, a little magic and Cuban music. All in all – a very nice read. What I liked about it in particular is how it relates the story of the three largest ethnic groups in Cuba – Spaniards, Blacks and Chinese, how they arrived in Cuba and how they later arrive to the United States.
I had no knowledge of the existence of a Chinese minority in Cuba, let alone of their involvement in the Cuban struggle for independence, and I enjoyed learning a little about the subject.
My second recommendation is still a fun book to read, but a little less lightweight:
This is a truly moving and at times breath-taking book telling the story of Oscar’s family, and specifically the women in his family. The author might be offended and he has my deepest apologies in advance, but I found the female characters to be far more interesting than the main character, Oscar (more about the reasons for that in my next post, Unaccounted for Weird Behaviors by Lead Characters).
For me, a book that has entire paragraphs in Spanish is irresistible, and so are the sharp-tongued, beautiful, tough women portrayed by the author. I recommend this book with all my heart.
After revealing my deep love for John Irving’s books, I now turn to a different angle of his work.
The relationship between an author and his fans is acomplex one. Often you stumble upon a book that knocks you down, sending you an a mission of finding everything written by this author. I am known to have these bouts that I prefer to call “Festivals”, during which I read three, four or five books by the same author in a row.
But when dealing with an author working for a long time and only gaining fame after publishing three or four books, as in Irving’s case, the story may differ. Because I do not live in an English speaking country, books in English are readily available but in a rather sporadic fashion. That is to say, an author’s entire bibliography may not be available, especially the books that were not great hits. There are ways to address this issue (which may be discussed in a separate post), but what is means in the context of this post is that I was exposed to Irving’s work gradually, and read his books not according to the order in which they were published but when I happened to find them.
When I got home, the fabulous Until I Find You hit the stores in Israel, and so it happened that I first read it and then read A Prayer for Owen Meany I brought home with me. I was astonished by the similarities between these two books that have completely different plot lines but speak of the same issues, written more than 15 years apart. They both speak about a child who has a complex relationship with a loved but somehow absent mother, of religion in the broader sense, of the power of music and classical music in particular, of the semi-incestuous love for a sister/friend, and of the search for a father.
It is amazing and thrilling to see the development of these issues in the course of time in the author’s mind. To my taste, the later book is much more compelling, dealing with the issues in a more mature and profound way, but they are both fantastic books.
It is a great joy that a coincidence made me read them together for the first time and observe this evolution of ideas.
I would love to have your input on this and other connections you may have noticed.
Instead of writing what this blog is all about, I decided to just dive in.
As stated in the headline, John Irving is my favorite author. To me, all his books share an emotional note of longing that grabs the heart and rings true for any human being in any culture.
I found this analysis of recurring themes in his work on Wikipedia, and though it is interesting, I am not quite convinced this is the way to go about his work. Yes, sex and sexuality are very much present in his work, as is wrestling, but to me his work revolves more about exploring the many ways and faces of love and loss.
Yes, many of his works concentrate on New England, which is probably his safe zone, but as his career progressed he ventured into farther, more exotic places, still retaining his specific voice and sensitivities. Two glorious examples are the warmly recommended A Son of the Circus and Until I Find You, and another is the less-brilliant but still worthy The Fourth Hand.
In all his books the issue of the many faces and facets of love – love between friends, between lovers, between children and their parents – is explored to show them in their tenderness, cruelty, difficulties and triumphs. But this discussion is always authentic, never seems far-fetched, even in the most eccentric situations Irving puts his characters in, and for me is the common thread that always brings me back to him – in his books I will always get an interesting, moving and fantastic story.
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