Books I've read lately:
--Kitchen by Banana Yoshimoto. I pulled this one off my bookshelf after probably 20 years and regret I waited that long for such a good read. I highly recommend this interesting book that deals with grief and love and how we express -- or don't express -- those emotions.
--Gourmet Rhapsody by Muriel Barbery. The novel about a dying food critic should appeal to all lovers of literature, not just food writing. The book's two-word last sentence shows how much a good writer can say in few words.
Upcoming:
I'm reading an oldie, Pride and Prejudice, and a contemporary novel, The Handbook for Lightning Survivors. I'm looking forward to my third Maisie Dobbs mystery, to the novel The Spice Necklace and more. I'm also thinking about reading Annie Proulx's memoir, Bird Cloud. I'd like to read one of the two books on Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis' career as a book editor.
Sunday, January 9, 2011
Wednesday, December 22, 2010
Let the Great World Spin by Colum McCann
Colum McCann's Let the Great World Spin is a novel written as a series of wonderfully crafted and subtly linked stories. The common denominator running throughout the book is the true story of French acrobat Philippe Petit who walked a tightrope between the World Trade Center's Twin Towers in August 1974, not long after it was built.
The stories, though, are not about the acrobat but about the ordinary but extraordinary people 110 stories below, the people whose lives intersect whether through wars, telephone lines, wrecks, charity or simply family. These people are drug-addicted hookers, a Bronx mother who grieves her son who died in Vietnam, a Park Avenue woman who mourns her son who also didn't come home from the war. There is a wealthy judge hearing a series of routine criminal cases until he gets the acrobat's. And there are two very different Irish brothers. One devotes his life to helping prostitutes while the other tends a bar and cannot comprehend his brother's seemingly misguided charity.
McCann takes the reader back to a time when computers were in their infancy, before Richard Nixon had resigned, when the nation was as divided perhaps even more than today. He gives us a realistic glimpse of New York in the 1970s, from Park Avenue to the Bronx. And in so doing, he gives us a truly great work of literature.
The stories, though, are not about the acrobat but about the ordinary but extraordinary people 110 stories below, the people whose lives intersect whether through wars, telephone lines, wrecks, charity or simply family. These people are drug-addicted hookers, a Bronx mother who grieves her son who died in Vietnam, a Park Avenue woman who mourns her son who also didn't come home from the war. There is a wealthy judge hearing a series of routine criminal cases until he gets the acrobat's. And there are two very different Irish brothers. One devotes his life to helping prostitutes while the other tends a bar and cannot comprehend his brother's seemingly misguided charity.
McCann takes the reader back to a time when computers were in their infancy, before Richard Nixon had resigned, when the nation was as divided perhaps even more than today. He gives us a realistic glimpse of New York in the 1970s, from Park Avenue to the Bronx. And in so doing, he gives us a truly great work of literature.
Quick Reviews: Cooking a Wolf, Growing a Tomato, Rooting for ME
Rather than try to write more detailed reviews of books I read more than a month ago, I'm offering this quick rundown as a way to get caught up so to speak. Here goes:
How to Cook a Wolf by M.F.K. Fisher. I did not read the original edition, written during World War II when Americans were not free to waste a single stick of butter or a pricey cut of meat. Rather, I read an edition in which Fisher came back and updated her original book with a few after-thoughts, after times had improved. Fisher's sense of humor and helpful thoughts on food and cooking make for an informative and fun read.
Unlike Fisher, William Alexander, author of The $64 Tomato, wasn't looking for ways to save money on food when he set out to raise some homegrown tomatoes. And that's a good thing because this amateur gardener learned that those tomatoes cost a lot more than manpower and patience. They also cost money, big money by the time he bought the electrical fencing to ward off the groundhogs and a possum, paid for expensive gardening-design advice, fertilized, watered, added other plants and .... well, you name it. Alexander has a great self-effacing humor, and the book is a winner.
Anthem by Ayn Rand offers a quick way to get an introduction to Ayn Rand's writing and her beliefs, her obsession with individualism vs. the greater good as some might call it. Unlike some of her other novels, this one is slender. It's basically a novella.
Still to come: Kitchen and Gourmet Rhapsody, both wonderful books.
How to Cook a Wolf by M.F.K. Fisher. I did not read the original edition, written during World War II when Americans were not free to waste a single stick of butter or a pricey cut of meat. Rather, I read an edition in which Fisher came back and updated her original book with a few after-thoughts, after times had improved. Fisher's sense of humor and helpful thoughts on food and cooking make for an informative and fun read.
Unlike Fisher, William Alexander, author of The $64 Tomato, wasn't looking for ways to save money on food when he set out to raise some homegrown tomatoes. And that's a good thing because this amateur gardener learned that those tomatoes cost a lot more than manpower and patience. They also cost money, big money by the time he bought the electrical fencing to ward off the groundhogs and a possum, paid for expensive gardening-design advice, fertilized, watered, added other plants and .... well, you name it. Alexander has a great self-effacing humor, and the book is a winner.
Anthem by Ayn Rand offers a quick way to get an introduction to Ayn Rand's writing and her beliefs, her obsession with individualism vs. the greater good as some might call it. Unlike some of her other novels, this one is slender. It's basically a novella.
Still to come: Kitchen and Gourmet Rhapsody, both wonderful books.
Tuesday, December 14, 2010
The Night Bookmobile by Audrey Niffenegger
I had not read a single graphic novel until I recently bought a copy of Audrey Niffenegger's The Night Bookmobile. I read it in a few moments. Yet days later, I'm still thinking about it and recommending it to friends.
Niffenegger, who wrote the novels The Time Traveler's Wife and more recently Her Fearful Symmetry, is a gifted artist and writer with an imagination like no other author I've read.
In The Night Bookmobile, Niffenegger's main character is a young woman named Alexandra. She is a book lover who apparently lives on Chicago's North Side, Niffenegger's hometown, and who enjoys long walks in the middle of night. Once, in the predawn hours at the corner of Ravenswood and Belle Plaine, Alexandra happens on a battered Winnebago driven by a Mr. Openshaw who runs a most unusual library inside it. Readers do not check out books from this library. Rather, they find copies of books identical to those they have read since childhood, even their own diaries.
Years pass before before Alexandra, who becomes obsessed with books and the bookmobile, sees it and Mr. Openshaw again. By then, her boyfriend has left her, she has become a regular librarian and all the time been reading, reading, reading -- in a comfortable chair, with a flashlight at night, in the tub while she bathes. Ultimately, Alexandra's obsession takes a bizarre, tragic turn -- one that readers will far better understand if they read Niffenegger's "After Words" at the end of this short book whose the pages are appropriately black and the words are white.
Without giving away any spoilers, we learn in the "After Words" that Niffenegger not surprisingly has always loved books and that she based this graphic novel, the first of a series she plans, on an H.G. Wells' short story, "The Door in the Wall," and on a book-filled dream she had as a teenager. The Night Bookmobile, she writes, is ultimately "a cautionary tale" and one about "the claims that books place on their readers."
For me, though, books remain a pleasant alternative to television, the Internet and the like. Through a book club, they gave me a way to make friends in a new hometown. They've given me cause to think about other ways of life, other cultures and ideas. And they have allowed me to travel to places many times, places I might never get to go any other way.
Still, a cautionary note of my own: This is not a book for children. It is clearly for adults, not because of language or sexual content, but because of the theme and the tragedy that takes place within it.
Niffenegger, who wrote the novels The Time Traveler's Wife and more recently Her Fearful Symmetry, is a gifted artist and writer with an imagination like no other author I've read.
In The Night Bookmobile, Niffenegger's main character is a young woman named Alexandra. She is a book lover who apparently lives on Chicago's North Side, Niffenegger's hometown, and who enjoys long walks in the middle of night. Once, in the predawn hours at the corner of Ravenswood and Belle Plaine, Alexandra happens on a battered Winnebago driven by a Mr. Openshaw who runs a most unusual library inside it. Readers do not check out books from this library. Rather, they find copies of books identical to those they have read since childhood, even their own diaries.
Years pass before before Alexandra, who becomes obsessed with books and the bookmobile, sees it and Mr. Openshaw again. By then, her boyfriend has left her, she has become a regular librarian and all the time been reading, reading, reading -- in a comfortable chair, with a flashlight at night, in the tub while she bathes. Ultimately, Alexandra's obsession takes a bizarre, tragic turn -- one that readers will far better understand if they read Niffenegger's "After Words" at the end of this short book whose the pages are appropriately black and the words are white.
Without giving away any spoilers, we learn in the "After Words" that Niffenegger not surprisingly has always loved books and that she based this graphic novel, the first of a series she plans, on an H.G. Wells' short story, "The Door in the Wall," and on a book-filled dream she had as a teenager. The Night Bookmobile, she writes, is ultimately "a cautionary tale" and one about "the claims that books place on their readers."
For me, though, books remain a pleasant alternative to television, the Internet and the like. Through a book club, they gave me a way to make friends in a new hometown. They've given me cause to think about other ways of life, other cultures and ideas. And they have allowed me to travel to places many times, places I might never get to go any other way.
Still, a cautionary note of my own: This is not a book for children. It is clearly for adults, not because of language or sexual content, but because of the theme and the tragedy that takes place within it.
Tuesday, November 30, 2010
The Ghost at the Table by Suzanne Berne
Suzanne Berne's bittersweet novel is set during Thanksgiving week but makes timely reading during any holiday season, especially one where families and friends come together -- like it or not.
The Ghost at the Table is the story of the Fiske family. Separated by hundreds of miles, years of bitterness and more than a little lack of communication are the anything-but-objective narrator, Cynthia Fiske, a single woman and author living in San Francisco, and her 82-year-old father, whose much-younger second wife has grown tired of him and decides he should go to a nursing home.
Cynthia reluctantly agrees to come home for Thanksgiving to see her older sister, Frances, an ever-chipper, domestic-minded doctor's wife and mother of two rebellious daughters whose idea of high fashion includes combat boots and tattoos. Cynthia and Frances drive to pick up their father and discover his wife hasn't told him that he's headed to a nursing home. But it turns out to have "no room at the inn" for the man whose falls asleep in his wheelchair and speaks few words. So, he, too, joins the holiday celebration, one that quickly deteriorates into a drunken lecture of sorts from Cynthia, a bizarre turkey-defrosting experience, a wreck and a fire that could have easily been prevented.
As the story's narrator, Cynthia tells readers that her mother was seriously ill for much of her childhood and that, even before her death, Cynthia's father brought Ilse, the woman who would become his next wife, into their home. Cynthia has for years suspected that her father killed her mother and also dislikes him because of his failure even to feign concern when his oldest daughter, Helen, later died.
There's also the typical sibling rivalry between Cynthia and Frances -- each envying the other's lifestyle yet each professing contentment with their own. Seen from only Cynthia's eyes, though, readers may justifiably question whether they know all of the facts and whether they have been interpreted properly. Frankly, Cynthia is neither a likable nor trustworthy narrator. I sometimes wished the author had allowed us to learn of the family's past from Frances' perspective as well. As it is, some questions remain unaswered, unclear.
For Mark Twain fans, the book includes quite not-always-pleasant history about Twain and his children. As part of her job writing books for children, Cynthia has studied Twain's family, especially his daughters, extensively. It's hard to miss the similarities between Twain's life ane the leading characters in Berne's novel.
I enjoyed the book but least liked the final 70 or so pages, which include a scenario about what happened during the mother's final hours. You need not worry about a spoiler here: The scenario was so confusing, I could not begin to understand it much less retell it.
q2
Further, the idea of this family suddenly coming to terms with the past after so much time and after so little success at communicating even when they do reunite frankly seemed anything but credible to me. Otherwise, the book is a good one that deserves reading.
The Ghost at the Table is the story of the Fiske family. Separated by hundreds of miles, years of bitterness and more than a little lack of communication are the anything-but-objective narrator, Cynthia Fiske, a single woman and author living in San Francisco, and her 82-year-old father, whose much-younger second wife has grown tired of him and decides he should go to a nursing home.
Cynthia reluctantly agrees to come home for Thanksgiving to see her older sister, Frances, an ever-chipper, domestic-minded doctor's wife and mother of two rebellious daughters whose idea of high fashion includes combat boots and tattoos. Cynthia and Frances drive to pick up their father and discover his wife hasn't told him that he's headed to a nursing home. But it turns out to have "no room at the inn" for the man whose falls asleep in his wheelchair and speaks few words. So, he, too, joins the holiday celebration, one that quickly deteriorates into a drunken lecture of sorts from Cynthia, a bizarre turkey-defrosting experience, a wreck and a fire that could have easily been prevented.
As the story's narrator, Cynthia tells readers that her mother was seriously ill for much of her childhood and that, even before her death, Cynthia's father brought Ilse, the woman who would become his next wife, into their home. Cynthia has for years suspected that her father killed her mother and also dislikes him because of his failure even to feign concern when his oldest daughter, Helen, later died.
There's also the typical sibling rivalry between Cynthia and Frances -- each envying the other's lifestyle yet each professing contentment with their own. Seen from only Cynthia's eyes, though, readers may justifiably question whether they know all of the facts and whether they have been interpreted properly. Frankly, Cynthia is neither a likable nor trustworthy narrator. I sometimes wished the author had allowed us to learn of the family's past from Frances' perspective as well. As it is, some questions remain unaswered, unclear.
For Mark Twain fans, the book includes quite not-always-pleasant history about Twain and his children. As part of her job writing books for children, Cynthia has studied Twain's family, especially his daughters, extensively. It's hard to miss the similarities between Twain's life ane the leading characters in Berne's novel.
I enjoyed the book but least liked the final 70 or so pages, which include a scenario about what happened during the mother's final hours. You need not worry about a spoiler here: The scenario was so confusing, I could not begin to understand it much less retell it.
q2
Further, the idea of this family suddenly coming to terms with the past after so much time and after so little success at communicating even when they do reunite frankly seemed anything but credible to me. Otherwise, the book is a good one that deserves reading.
Friday, November 19, 2010
The Hundred-Foot Journey by Richard C. Morais
Richard C. Morais has created a wonderful story that blends the cultures and tastes of two very different parts of the world in his new book, The Hundred-Foot Journey.
The novel opens in Mumbai and focuses on an Indian boy named Hassan Haji whose life began in a room above his grandfather's restaurant. Tragedy leads the Haji family to move to London where they set up an humble kitchen serving the likes of spicy fish curry, hot kadai and Kingfisher beer. Across the street is Madame Mallory's Le Saule Pleureur's, a French restaurant where the waiters serve wine, not beer, and where silver spoons and forks are positioned not just on the dining tables, but perfectly on them.
One evening, Madame Mallory and her companion, Monsieur Leblanc, visit the Indian restaurant, decorated with plastic roses and Air India posters. They dine, not on a bouillabaisse, but on "thick and gooey" Goa fish stew, chicken tikka marinated in pink spices and lemon, yogurt-marinated lamb liver sprinkled with pine nuts, yellow rice, unleavened bread and much more. There, even as Madame Mallory complains of the diner's lack of sanitation, she marvels about the young chef Hassan's cooking abilities, saying simply, "He has it. ... Talent. ... Talent that cannot be learned."
After anything-but-typical negotiations, Madame Mallory persuades Hassan to walk the short distance from his family's restaurant to hers and work for her. That hundred-foot journey leads Hassan into a new world of etiquette and food. There, he learns how to set the table as a fine French restaurant would. He learns the difference between a Pacific oyster and a Brittany oyster. He learns not just of kholrabi but of its varieties. He prepares stewed hares marinated in white wine, sweet German mustard and more, accompanied by mint-infused couscous and a cucumber-and-sour-cream salad topped with a handful of lingonberries.
Through Madame Mallory, Haji meets a young woman who will play a key role now and later in his life. And through Madame Mallory, Haji also meets -- and becomes part of -- the world of fine French cuisine.
Haji's journeys, as told by Morias, should interest those with a love of food, travel and just plain good writing. It's a fast read, not one with recipes or maps, but one replete with slightly eccentric characters (Haji's father and Madame Mallory among them) and incredible imagery ("... gradually the hardness in Papa's face dissolved, and it was something quietly miraculous, like watching a chilled lump of goose fat warming in a hot pan."). It's the kind of book you'll want to keep on a shelf nearby.
The novel opens in Mumbai and focuses on an Indian boy named Hassan Haji whose life began in a room above his grandfather's restaurant. Tragedy leads the Haji family to move to London where they set up an humble kitchen serving the likes of spicy fish curry, hot kadai and Kingfisher beer. Across the street is Madame Mallory's Le Saule Pleureur's, a French restaurant where the waiters serve wine, not beer, and where silver spoons and forks are positioned not just on the dining tables, but perfectly on them.
One evening, Madame Mallory and her companion, Monsieur Leblanc, visit the Indian restaurant, decorated with plastic roses and Air India posters. They dine, not on a bouillabaisse, but on "thick and gooey" Goa fish stew, chicken tikka marinated in pink spices and lemon, yogurt-marinated lamb liver sprinkled with pine nuts, yellow rice, unleavened bread and much more. There, even as Madame Mallory complains of the diner's lack of sanitation, she marvels about the young chef Hassan's cooking abilities, saying simply, "He has it. ... Talent. ... Talent that cannot be learned."
After anything-but-typical negotiations, Madame Mallory persuades Hassan to walk the short distance from his family's restaurant to hers and work for her. That hundred-foot journey leads Hassan into a new world of etiquette and food. There, he learns how to set the table as a fine French restaurant would. He learns the difference between a Pacific oyster and a Brittany oyster. He learns not just of kholrabi but of its varieties. He prepares stewed hares marinated in white wine, sweet German mustard and more, accompanied by mint-infused couscous and a cucumber-and-sour-cream salad topped with a handful of lingonberries.
Through Madame Mallory, Haji meets a young woman who will play a key role now and later in his life. And through Madame Mallory, Haji also meets -- and becomes part of -- the world of fine French cuisine.
Haji's journeys, as told by Morias, should interest those with a love of food, travel and just plain good writing. It's a fast read, not one with recipes or maps, but one replete with slightly eccentric characters (Haji's father and Madame Mallory among them) and incredible imagery ("... gradually the hardness in Papa's face dissolved, and it was something quietly miraculous, like watching a chilled lump of goose fat warming in a hot pan."). It's the kind of book you'll want to keep on a shelf nearby.
Thursday, November 18, 2010
What Becomes by A.L. Kennedy
What Becomes by the award-winning Scottish writer A.L. Kennedy has been billed as one of the 10 best works of fiction in 2010. Indeed, a couple of the selections in Kennedy’s short-story collection are truly good. Others left me wondering what I had just read, what the story really was or really meant.
An emotional thread running throughout the stories is the loneliness felt by the brokenhearted -- the kind that is worst when people are not physically alone, the kind that makes people do silly, crazy, even dangerous things.
In “Sympathy,” for example, two strangers have sex in a hotel room. The graphic dialogue reflects more than the things they are doing but also their hope for something better even though, rationally, they know this meeting won’t bring them the happiness they crave.
Sometimes, the emotional connections sought, if not obtained, rely on tangible objects. In the story "Edinburgh," books are the vehicle. One of my favorite passages goes like this: "She gave him books. The same words that were in her mind, now in yours, still warm."
When I read that, I realized that's one reason I enjoy certain books -- used books with the scribblings, underlining of long-ago readers, books recommended by authors I respect. Books can provide a common thread between the ordinary and the extraordinary, the prince and the pauper, the parent and the far-away, homesick child.
The namesake of Kennedy's book and the title story is an old Jimmy Ruffin song, “What Becomes of the Broken Hearted.”
“I’ll be searching everywhere
Just to find someone to care.”
The title story, the first of 12, is about a man named Frank. He’s in a bad marriage and goes to the movies, only to find himself the only person in the theatre, one where the film’s sound isn’t even working.
Kennedy’s book reminds me a bit of the film, Short Cuts, based on a collection of Raymond Carver stories. If you like Carver, you’ll probably like this book as well. If not, go on to something else.
An emotional thread running throughout the stories is the loneliness felt by the brokenhearted -- the kind that is worst when people are not physically alone, the kind that makes people do silly, crazy, even dangerous things.
In “Sympathy,” for example, two strangers have sex in a hotel room. The graphic dialogue reflects more than the things they are doing but also their hope for something better even though, rationally, they know this meeting won’t bring them the happiness they crave.
Sometimes, the emotional connections sought, if not obtained, rely on tangible objects. In the story "Edinburgh," books are the vehicle. One of my favorite passages goes like this: "She gave him books. The same words that were in her mind, now in yours, still warm."
When I read that, I realized that's one reason I enjoy certain books -- used books with the scribblings, underlining of long-ago readers, books recommended by authors I respect. Books can provide a common thread between the ordinary and the extraordinary, the prince and the pauper, the parent and the far-away, homesick child.
The namesake of Kennedy's book and the title story is an old Jimmy Ruffin song, “What Becomes of the Broken Hearted.”
“I’ll be searching everywhere
Just to find someone to care.”
The title story, the first of 12, is about a man named Frank. He’s in a bad marriage and goes to the movies, only to find himself the only person in the theatre, one where the film’s sound isn’t even working.
Kennedy’s book reminds me a bit of the film, Short Cuts, based on a collection of Raymond Carver stories. If you like Carver, you’ll probably like this book as well. If not, go on to something else.
Random Thoughts
The book MMommy, Are We French Yet by Shawn Underwood is OK for light -- I mean, very light, very very light -- reading but little more. It comes across largely as the story of two families with money and time on their hands who decide to spend a year in France. Written much like a journal, Underwood does have a knack for self-effacing humor. There were times when I laughed. But there were more times when I rolled my eyes. If you're in France already on somewhat of a vacation, a side trip to Italy is one thing. But to Egypt? No, these are not typical families. They make Peter Mayle, the British author who has made a home and career out of life in Provence, look like an ordinary fellow. In short, you'll be better off reading Mayle, Frances Mayes or others to get an idea of life in western Europe. And they can write better, too.
Objects of Our Affection by Lisa Tracy, a former editor at The Philadelphia Inquirer, could have been a wonderful book. As it is, it's mediocre. Tracy is telling the story of how she and her sister packed up and ultimately dispensed with most of their mother's furniture, dishes and other items when she entered a nursing home and died soon afterward. Tracy seems to mourn the fact that they auctioned off a Sandai chest and didn't even get that much for it, but she never clearly explains why they had to auction off that piece or some others for that matter. She seems focused on what's valuable and what's not but less focused on explaining why some pieces are meaningful to her and others not. Only near the end of the book does Tracy explain why such family possessions are the "Objects of Our Affection." The book would have been far more interesting had she focused on that concept more throughout the story and helped us better understand her own decisions. The book is replete with family photos as well as pictures of the objects going up for sale. But the book is lacking in the last word of the title -- affection.
Around the House and in the Garden by Dominique Browning is a slender book that I enjoyed but soon forgot. You know the kind of book I mean. It just doesn't leave a lasting impression. Browning is a former editor of the now-defunct Home & Garden magazine and previously was editor of Mirabella. This book, written after Browning's divorce, is, as its subtitle says, A Memoir of Heartbreak, Healing, and Home Improvement. Browning does not cast blame but seeks to restore her own love of house and home after her divorce, which tore both apart for a time. If you are going through difficult times and want to care again about house and home but don't want to be scolded for a lack of interest right now, this book would make a good, even helpful read.
Objects of Our Affection by Lisa Tracy, a former editor at The Philadelphia Inquirer, could have been a wonderful book. As it is, it's mediocre. Tracy is telling the story of how she and her sister packed up and ultimately dispensed with most of their mother's furniture, dishes and other items when she entered a nursing home and died soon afterward. Tracy seems to mourn the fact that they auctioned off a Sandai chest and didn't even get that much for it, but she never clearly explains why they had to auction off that piece or some others for that matter. She seems focused on what's valuable and what's not but less focused on explaining why some pieces are meaningful to her and others not. Only near the end of the book does Tracy explain why such family possessions are the "Objects of Our Affection." The book would have been far more interesting had she focused on that concept more throughout the story and helped us better understand her own decisions. The book is replete with family photos as well as pictures of the objects going up for sale. But the book is lacking in the last word of the title -- affection.
Around the House and in the Garden by Dominique Browning is a slender book that I enjoyed but soon forgot. You know the kind of book I mean. It just doesn't leave a lasting impression. Browning is a former editor of the now-defunct Home & Garden magazine and previously was editor of Mirabella. This book, written after Browning's divorce, is, as its subtitle says, A Memoir of Heartbreak, Healing, and Home Improvement. Browning does not cast blame but seeks to restore her own love of house and home after her divorce, which tore both apart for a time. If you are going through difficult times and want to care again about house and home but don't want to be scolded for a lack of interest right now, this book would make a good, even helpful read.
Alex & Me by Irene Pepperberg
Alex & Me by Irene Pepperberg is the sweet story of the amazing relationship between Pepperberg, a scientist who studies birds, and one of her subjects -- an African Grey parrot named Alex.
Alex is one smart bird. He not only can talk but seems to understand what he says. In other words, the little guy isn’t always just mimicking words he hears.
Pepperberg is obviously good when it comes to working with birds. She’s not as good a writer but still gets her thoughts across simply and ably enough without getting the reader too bogged down in scientific jargon.
Pepperberg wrote the book after Alex died prematurely at age 31, apparently from a previously undiagnosed heart condition. Among Alex’s last words to his owner as she prepared to leave work the night he unexpectedly died were these, “You be good. I love you.” If those words do not make us better appreciate the wildlife around us, I’m not sure anything will.
On a side note, I sadly am uncertain, but I think I had the honor of meeting Master Alex many years ago when he was just a young bird. I was working at The Associated Press in Chicago and Alex was living at Northwestern University, where I seem to recall visiting to do a story on him. The little bird was less of a celebrity then. I wish I could find any story I might have written about him.
I recommend Pepperberg’s book as a light and somewhat inspirational read, especially for bird lovers such as myself.
Alex is one smart bird. He not only can talk but seems to understand what he says. In other words, the little guy isn’t always just mimicking words he hears.
Pepperberg is obviously good when it comes to working with birds. She’s not as good a writer but still gets her thoughts across simply and ably enough without getting the reader too bogged down in scientific jargon.
Pepperberg wrote the book after Alex died prematurely at age 31, apparently from a previously undiagnosed heart condition. Among Alex’s last words to his owner as she prepared to leave work the night he unexpectedly died were these, “You be good. I love you.” If those words do not make us better appreciate the wildlife around us, I’m not sure anything will.
On a side note, I sadly am uncertain, but I think I had the honor of meeting Master Alex many years ago when he was just a young bird. I was working at The Associated Press in Chicago and Alex was living at Northwestern University, where I seem to recall visiting to do a story on him. The little bird was less of a celebrity then. I wish I could find any story I might have written about him.
I recommend Pepperberg’s book as a light and somewhat inspirational read, especially for bird lovers such as myself.
A Novel Bookstore by Laurence Cosse'
A Novel Bookstore by Laurence Cosse' is a book for book lovers, especially those who appreciate great literature.
Set in Paris, the book tells the story of a bookstore whose owners decide to sell only “good” books. The owners -- a man who has worked in bookshops before and a wealthy woman, the silent, even concealed partner -- select a secret committee of authors to choose the novels they will sell.
The bookstore surprises everyone and at first does a great business but soon faces harsh criticism, even violence from detractors who accuse the owners of literary snobbery and elitism (Sound familiar?) and begin attacking their credibility. Meantime, bizarre accidents start happening to one committee member after another.
I enjoyed the novel, translated from the French by Alison Anderson, but found the ending disappointing. The deus-ex-machina solution was a bit disturbing. Couldn’t Cosse' have come up with something more plausible? Simply leaving the crimes totally unsolved, which Cosse' pretty much did anyway, would have been a better, more realistic ending to an otherwise fine book.
Set in Paris, the book tells the story of a bookstore whose owners decide to sell only “good” books. The owners -- a man who has worked in bookshops before and a wealthy woman, the silent, even concealed partner -- select a secret committee of authors to choose the novels they will sell.
The bookstore surprises everyone and at first does a great business but soon faces harsh criticism, even violence from detractors who accuse the owners of literary snobbery and elitism (Sound familiar?) and begin attacking their credibility. Meantime, bizarre accidents start happening to one committee member after another.
I enjoyed the novel, translated from the French by Alison Anderson, but found the ending disappointing. The deus-ex-machina solution was a bit disturbing. Couldn’t Cosse' have come up with something more plausible? Simply leaving the crimes totally unsolved, which Cosse' pretty much did anyway, would have been a better, more realistic ending to an otherwise fine book.
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