A House in the Sky: A Story of Hope

A House in the Sky by Amanda Lindhout and Sara Corbett held me hostage for two days. I couldn't stop reading the terrifying account of Amanda and Nigel's kidnapping in Somalia.  I felt their fear when their captors forced them into a jeep and locked them in a room with two small mats and mosquito nets. I visualized their anguish when their captors shackled their ankles just in case they tried to escape.  I cried for Amanda's torture and rape.  I understood her religious conversion and her clever manipulation of her guards.  When she and Nigel found ways to communicate after their separation, I rejoiced in their  reunion and secret Christmas presents.

Mostly as I read this book I gasped.  My husband watched me reading and continually asked me, "What is going on in that book?  It's like you're not here."  And when I told him the story of Amanda and Nigel's Somalia capture, he wanted to know the play by play.  Each hour he saw me reading he asked, "Did they escape?" or "How are they doing now?"  I hardly wanted to come up for air to explain it to him as I flew through the pages to find out what happened to Nigel and Amanda.

What, you might be asking, led to the capture of Nigel and Amanda, two amateur photographers and journalists, in Somalia? The story Amanda tells starts in her impoverished childhood where she dumpster dove for fun - rifling through the remnants of other's trash to find treasures.  As an adult Amanda sought escape and comfort in travel, and when she found her footing on foreign soil, she wanted the thrill and challenge of visiting forbidden places - Afghanistan, Beirut, Baghdad, Amman, and Damascus.  When she received the opportunity to travel to Somalia as a journalist and photographer, she reasoned with herself that "there were stories here - a raging war, and impending famine, religious extremists, and a culture that had been largely shut out of sight." She wanted to "do stories that mattered, that moved people" even with the impending danger and even with the knowledge that few reporters risked going to Somalia.  As the Italian missionary man on the fretful plan ride to Somalia told her and Nigel, "Be very careful in Mogadishu . . . Your head is worth a half million dollars there.  And that's just for your head."

Even with the sinking feeling in her soul, and the warnings from others, Amanda and Nigel forged forward to Somalia with the blind faith that their guides and press passes would protect them.

They didn't last long in the harsh landscape of violence before Somalia reared its ugliness.  Amanda and Nigel were captured and held hostage and thrust into a bizarre business world of negotiations, ransom, political maneuvers, religious extremists, fear, and suffering.

I felt this book the whole way through, and rejoiced at the end of the story because ultimately Amanda's story is one of hope, survival and forgiveness.  I cried during my two day A House in the Sky binge and got sweaty as Amanda and Nigel suffered at the hands of their captors.

When I finished the book, I sat still in front of my iPad for a few minutes - wanting to absorb the full weight of Amanda's story.  My husband asked, "So how does it end?" and I didn't know what to tell him.  I simply said, "Do you know how strong the human spirit is? We can survive anything.  We just need to convince ourselves that we can."

Eleanor & Park: A Refreshing YA Love Story

It's been awhile since I felt myself falling in love with a YA book . . . falling hard to the point where I didn't want to do anything but read and block out the world.  Rainbow Rowell's Eleanor and Park took me back to when I first fell in love - the awkward, dangerous first moments of romance when nothing else in the world matters but the person of your affection.

Rowell gives her readers so much to love. I rooted for Eleanor, a red headed, slightly overweight, misfit new girl as she braved her first day of school, the horrible bus (before it became not so horrible), and her despicable step-father.  Eleanor's brashness and ability to transcend the pettiness around her rubs off on Park, a quiet Asian kid whose loving family comprised of his Korean war veteran father, Korean mother, and younger but taller brother lives in suburban blissfulness.  His parents still make out (much to Park's disdain).  Park wants nothing more than to be left alone, to lie low under the radar of high school ridiculousness all around him until he falls for Eleanor through their mutual love of graphic novels, music and each other.  Then, he starts to change - getting into fights for Eleanor's honor, wearing a new punk style and not caring what people think or believe about him or Eleanor.

Set in 1986, Rowell's book feels like a John Hughes movie - only better with vibrant and lovable characters who all have heart.  I actually pictured Molly Ringwald in certain scenes as I read this book with her pouty lips and defiant stare; she'd be a perfect casting choice for Eleanor.

Rowell reminded me what falling in love feels like.  I remembered phone conversations with Eric (who is now my husband) that lasted so long we'd fall asleep with the phone pressed to our ears.  I remembered seeing him in the high school hallways and feeling safe and loved and happy and confused all at once.  I remember the evolution of our relationship from a joke to a friendship to something so much deeper (it's still going strong after almost 15 years of marriage and the addition of two beautiful daughters in our lives), and Rowell captures all of those feelings in the 325 pages of Eleanor and Park's romance.

When Park first meets Eleanor, he really just wants her to go away, to stop being such an embarrassment for drawing negative attention to herself.  "He could remember thinking that she was asking for it . . . That it was bad enough to have a face shaped like a box of chocolates. . . He remembered feeling embarrassed for her. And now . . . Now, he felt the fight rising up in his throat whenever he thought of people making fun of her."

Eleanor possesses the ability to free Park from the shadows, and Park possesses an equal ability to free Eleanor from her hardened shell where she has convinced herself that she needs no one because all the people she loves and trusts most violate that trust with neglect and violence.  Park's tenderness and care towards Eleanor melts her and shows her how beautiful love can be, even if she fears needing him.  "She wanted to lose herself in him. To tie his arms around her like a tourniquet. If she showed him how much she needed him, he'd run away."

And the book does involve some running away, but not the kind you'd expect.  None of this book feels expected, false, empty or forced.  Instead it feels like the first moments of love - the real kind - that you lose yourself in because it is so easy and full of happiness even if the world around you feels unkind or confusing.  I can already see this book becoming a movie with a killer soundtrack full of 80s music, and a multi-generational following.  If you know a teenage girl who loves Sarah Dessen or even Veronica Roth books, you need to get her a copy of Eleanor & Park this Christmas.  AND, if you know a 30something 40something woman who grew up in the 80s, you need to get her a copy, too. She'll love you for it.

Funny, Creative and Honest: Hyperbole and a Half by Allie Brosh

I love memoirs more than any other type of book.

When I searched "great new memoirs" Allie Brosh's Hyperbole and a Half: unfortunate situations, flawed coping mechanisms, mayhem, and other things that happened kept appearing.  It looked promising, so I ordered it.  Unlike many of the reviewers for this book, I had never read Allie Brosh's blog titled "Hyperbole and a Half", but I did hear her interview on NPR last week where she started to cry as she talked about her bouts of depression and suicidal thoughts.  I was more than intrigued and did a bit of a happy dance when my Amazon box arrived at my door.

The book reads like a graphic novel because Allie Brosh illustrates her stories.  The drawings are rudimentary, but hysterical (especially the dogs).  I read the whole book in an evening and laughed out loud and reread her chapter "The Helper Dog is an Asshole" to my husband.  He laughed, too, because it is funny and when you read it, you can't help but laughing.

Here's a tip, though - you may want to just check out Allie's blog (which is an award winning blog) since most of the stories in this book are taken directly from her blog posts.  This book really is a compilation of her best blog posts, so you don't even need to buy it UNLESS you are looking to buy a funny (and sometimes sad and disturbing) book for someone this Christmas.  I realized while perusing her blog, that the posters the English teacher put up about the A LOT came from Allie's blog.

Brosh's sense of humor and her ability to show her stories through the pictures is worth reading and discovering and passing along to friends and family members you know won't be offended by the stick figure with the triangle pony tail.

The roots of evil and justice: The Round House by Louise Erdrich

After plodding through the dismal Allegiant by Veronica Roth (the last book in Roth's Divergent trilogy), I picked up The Round House that same afternoon.  I craved a hearty read with substantial characters, breathtaking writing and a storyline that kept me not only engaged, but made me think.  Although I have read some of Erdrich's short stories, and Love Medicine is still on my lists of "must read before I die" books, I have never read one of her novels.  This novel, already adorned with The National Book Award Winner seal of approval, made my mouth water a bit.  I knew little about the story line - only that it was a cross between a mystery and a coming of age story.

The story opens with Joe and father Bazil as they pull tenacious, weedy, small trees from the foundation of their home in 1988 on their Indian Reservation. Unsuspecting and innocently, hours later, Joe's father asks, "Where is your mother?" Joe believes she went to work to pick up a file, but feels uncertain and uneasy.  They discover hours later that Geraldine, Joe's mother, was the victim of a brutal rape that renders her a ghost like whisper of her former self - scared to tell any details of the crime committed against her.

The book, told from the narrative perspective of Joe's adult self, centers on Joe's young detective skills and his need to bring the rapist to justice.  He and his band of friends, all on the brink of adulthood and discovering that the adult world comes with complications of love, sex, violence and justice, work together like the boys in Stand By Me to uncover truths at the scene of the crime, the Round House, a sacred space where there Ojibwe hold spiritual ceremonies.

Erdrich's storytelling left me breathless (just like I wanted to be) with her ability to weave together humor (in the form of the elderly Indian women who have no qualms about divulging the secrets of their past love conquests much to the chagrin of the unsuspecting listeners), and memorable characters (like the tragically beautiful priest, Joe's charming best friend Cappy, and Sonja, Joe's crush who mothers him when his mother is unable to move from her bed). The storyline floats through mystery, and a coming of age summer which is shrouded in discovery and loss.  The boys protect each other and help each other through the darkness and manage some freedom in their summer of discovery as they bike through the reservation.

The magic of Erdrich stems from her ability to enhance the storyline with as much mysticism and spirituality and reality, but make the reader question the nature of good and the nature of evil.  As Father Travis tells Joe, "Every time there is an evil, much good comes of it ---" to which Joe responds by deepening his need for vigilante justice.

Erdrich furthered my breathlessness with the revelation (at least to me) that "tribal governments can't prosecute non-Indians who commit crimes on their land." That law (which Amnesty International  called "Maze of Injustice") coupled with the jigsaw puzzle of land laws surrounding Indian territories and federal properties lead to the freedom of the rapist and the eventual outcome of the book as the community seeks justice.

Even with the abrupt ending and the thin wisps of some of the storyline still left unanswered, Joe's narration of his summer of discovery founded in both evil and justice will stay rooted with me for years to come.

Have Mercy . . . It's Over!: Allegiant by Veronica Roth

Ummm.... it's hard for me to know where to start with this one.  The song "Mercy" by Duffy kept playing in my head as I read the third and final book in the Divergent series.  Allegiant by Veronica Roth hurt to read.  I know, I know . . . she has tons of fans.  Girls in the age range of 12-17 probably LOVE this series, and don't get me wrong, I enjoyed the first book, Divergent, but I couldn't enjoy this book at all.  

Not at all (sorry Veronica Roth fans). I can picture my good friend's daughter reading this post and crying because she loves Veronica Roth so much and just met her at The National Book Festival.  And I appreciate this adoration, but I can't say that I appreciate Roth's writing in the 2nd book in her trilogy, Insurgent, and even I possess even less admiration for the writing in Allegiant.  

I rolled my eyes while reading just about every chapter.  Before you jump to the conclusion that I just hate YA literature, please reconsider.  I LOVE YA literature, but not all YA literature (just like not all adult literature) is created equally, and Roth's book Allegiant is a sad attempt to continue and conclude the very intriguing dystopia she developed in Divergent.  The main action of this book takes place outside of the faction led (and crumbling) futuristic Chicago in a secret compound that has been monitoring the city experiment.  In the world outside the city, the dystopia continues but instead of faction fighting faction, it is the Genetically Pure (or Divergent) against the Genetically Damaged (those who aren't Divergent). Beyond this compound there is an even harsher landscape called the fringe which seems just like the factionless sector in the city.  

Although the conflicts are all set, there is little to love about this book. Let's take the characters of Tris and Four (Tobias) for an example of the deteriorating story line.  Their relationship in the first book blossomed during the initiation process, but in the second book it thinned and it almost became a laughable aspect of Allegiant.  Tris huffs and puffs so much at Tobias, and Tobias seems bent on lying to her which seems so different than the very lovable and admirable Four that Roth presented in Divergent.  Whenever a "love" scene appeared in this book, I felt nothing for this couple but an annoyance.  Why does every time that Tobias looks at Tris that she has to question why such an attractive bloke would love the skinny, pale, and plain likes of her?  The murky lack of self confidence even with the plans and bravery Tris shows in every other situation just seems wrong and so sadly misplaced that it grew tiresome. 

I also grew tired of the plans and revolutions.  I know that this too might be a subject for Roth fans to debate me, but almost every chapter presented a new plan involving a new serum of some sort that only some people are immune to or some people have been inoculated against. All of the plans felt contrived and a bit childish rather than well thought out and complex.  

The new characters presented from the compound outside of the city also seemed thin and underdeveloped.  Nita, whose appearance furthers the understanding of the resistance against the Genetically Damaged prejudice is also presented as a love hiccup between Tris and Tobias.  The whole situation is so ridiculous with Tobias accusing Tris of just being jealous, and Tris focusing on Nita's beauty.  Aren't they in the midst of some huge revolution and in mind blowing revelations about the Matrix-esque role of the compound?  In one part after Tris shoots Nita she visits her in her guarded cell.  Tris describes Nita in her powerless state and thinks, "half her body is encased in plaster, and one of her hands is cuffed to the bed, as if she could escape even if she wanted to. Her hair is messy, knotted, but of course, she's still pretty." I had to mark that passage, because I rolled my eyes after I read it.  Really? You visit the rebel in her prison cell after you almost killed her and you are focusing on her still being pretty?

The dual narrative from Tobias and Tris's perspective also got tiresome and didn't offer too much of a different perspective until the end.  

I don't want to be cruel, but I was so glad when I finished this book.  I know that it will still sell, sell, sell, and with the movie coming out for Divergent in the Spring (as well as another collection of stories from Four's point of view), Roth is sure to be given high praise for her trilogy.  My biggest hope was that Roth's Divergent world would improve with each book like J.K. Rowling's writing improved and grew more complex with each installment of Harry Potter. Instead every interesting aspect of the first book dissolved in the second book, and the third book basically ran on empty the entire 526 pages.  

Stolen: A Kidnapping Tale with a Twist

Lucy Christopher's debut YA novel Stolen (2010) presents a psychological thrill ride in which a beautiful and broken Aussie, Ty, kidnaps teenaged Gemma while she is at the Bangkok airport on a layover and looking for an excuse to escape her parents. After drugging her, Ty transplants Gemma to his home in the Australian desert hundreds of miles from civilization and tries to convince her that they are meant to be together. Ty proves to be a benevolent kidnapper who stalked Gemma from the time she was 10 years old, and wants only to protect her and show her all the beauty of the Australian wilderness. He's beautiful with blonde hair, fire lit blue eyes and rippling abdominals, but something about him repulses Gemma.  It could be the fact that he drugged her and took her 1000s of miles away from the only life she ever knew.  It could be the fact that he created a life for them without her consent.  It could be the fact that he stalked her as she grew up.  It could be that he repeatedly says that he will never let her go.

Maybe since I just saw The Great Gatsby and I have been thinking about To Kill a Mockingbird, something in this kidnapping tale seemed almost romantic. In any other situation, Ty, the pained loner who loves the land and pledges devotion to one woman for his entire life, who only wants to show this woman the beauty of the harsh wilderness around them, who never touches this woman but protects her, who paints and traps snakes during the day, and who seems to know everything there is to know about the Australian desert would be a hero.  In Stolen, however, Lucy Christopher twists the tragic hero and places him at the center of a kidnapping tale. We see Ty's devotion to Gemma, but the connection between the two characters remains uneasy because the motives and the violence of kidnapping underly the entire skewed relationship.  In The Great Gatsby, Jay constructed his lavish empire only to win the love of Daisy and be worthy of her love.  There's a romanticism in that story.  Jay Gatsby endears readers as the tragic hero whose fatal flaw stems from the fact that he did it all for love.  He wanted to repeat the past with Daisy, and he created just the sort of world that would attract her.  In To Kill A Mockingbird, Boo Radley watches over Jem and Scout and protects them from danger, going as far as killing a man to protect them.  In the end, Boo, although creepy and somewhat stalkerish, becomes a hero who overcomes the evil.  Christopher's portrayal of Ty leads even his victim to question him - can she trust him? Should she? Does she have feelings for this man whose motives are twisted and his sense of reality warped? Is he tender or terrifying? Is he calculating or kind? The complexity of the character makes it hard to know which leads to the brilliance of Christopher's work and the well deserved Printz Honor it received.

I loved this book and tore through it in a day abandoning other work responsibilities to be entrenched in the heated story of kidnapper and victim, the wild of the Australian dessert becoming a vivid, living character itself. Gemma's internal struggles, her will to escape, and the overriding seductive nature of her captor, all drew me in from the first page.

It's that lingering question of what really constitutes love? How do we differentiate love from capture? Hero from hunter? Healthy relationships from unhealthy ones? Devotion from deviant behavior? Lucy Christopher presents a character as complex as the Australian landscape he knows so well - dangerous and deadly as well as beautiful and breathtaking.  Ty will make you question your concept of hero and villain and Stolen will make you question what it means to be taken and what it means to be saved.

Lost and Found: Where'd You Go, Bernadette?

Unlike much of the adult fiction I selected over the past few months, I knew relatively nothing about Where'd You Go, Bernadette? by Maria Semple.  I read a John Green interview after I reread his book The Fault in Our Stars in which he named Semple's book his favorite of the year so far.  Semple wrote for Saturday Night Live and for Arrested Development, and Where'd You Go, Bernadette was touted as a one of the year's best books, with glittering praise for the comedic writing and spot on satire from every major news outlet from the New York Times to Vogue.

I chose this book for my Book Club because I needed a change of pace.  Where'd You Go, Bernadette certainly offered something different.  The story revolves around a family living in Seattle - Bernadette Fox, a brilliant architect from Los Angeles whose distaste for the Seattle inhabitants and lifestyle pushed her over the edge and made her a recluse in her run down home; Elgin Branch, Bernadette's genius Microsoft inventor husband who received national recognition for his top rated TedTalk on Samantha 2; and the narrator of the story, Bee, Bernadette and Elgin's gifted 15 year old daughter who attends Galer Street school and asks for a trip to Antarctica for receiving perfect grades.

The story unfolds in a series of letters, faxes, medical reports, interviews, and emails.  The biting satire about families, overzealous Suburban moms, creativity, and the artistic temperament highlight the mystery of what really happened to Bernadette, but brings up the broader question - what happens to all of us as we age, compromise our beliefs, raise our families, recover from illnesses and loss, and try to navigate the world and find out what we can really tolerate.

I loved Semple's style and found myself flying through the narrative.  I especially loved the character Audrey Griffin and her flawed rivalry with Bernadette.  Audrey's letters about blackberry bush removal, parent involvement at Galer Street School, and her unhinging at the Westin Hotel where she realizes how out of touch with her reality she really is parallels Bernadette's unhinging and circle to eventual restoration. The way the story unfolds made me appreciate Semple's brilliance - the truths keep coming in bursts of light through the various clues Bee recovers about her mother's disappearance.

I never laughed aloud as I read the way that I do when I read David Sedaris, but the fresh originality of the dysfunctional world of Bernadette, her husband, and her daughter showed human truths in a way that didn't feel awful and sad.  Yes, there are sad aspects to the book, but all the sadness is tempered with Semple's comedic edge, and the wit led me to smile rather than frown.