The Travels of Jaimie McPheeters

So it seems I'm on a roll reading books that I honestly enjoy. While somewhat dated and at times flowery for my taste, I found this "Tom Sawyer" like tale engaging and well worth the read.

Winner of the 1959 Pulitzer, The Travels of Jaimie McPheeters by Robert Lewis Taylor follows the wiley antics and coming-of-age of.... wait for it.... you guessed it: Jaimie McPheeters.

The year is 1849, and gold has been discovered in the west. Dr. McPheeters, Jaimie's father, is deep in debt, and eager to start affresh on the trail for fortune. Jaimie, eager to escape another year of school, eager goes with him, leaving his mother alone in Kentucky to fight off the creditors. The remaining chapters depict their adventures, fortunes and misfortunes alike.

From the begining, I had a great feeling about this book. Maybe it was residue from finishing yet another great read. Perhaps it was because my father enjoyed it so much. Or maybe it is just that Robert Lewis Taylor is just that good. Whatever the reason, I breezed through the first chapters with little henderance. However...

After Jaimie's second encounter with less-than-friendly natives, my enthusiasm began to wane. Wondering if Taylor simply took Huck Finn from the Mississippi River and placed him the gold rush, I barreled through, waiting for the entire book to be comprised of kidnappings and sterotypes. To my great delight, Taylor proved my worries invalid, mixing things up a bit with fool's gold, showdowns, and thievery.

And as with all great books, the ending came much too quickly. I feel much like Jaimie as he watches his father leave for the last time: "Probably I should have felt sad, because I had an uneasy feeling that we would never see him again. But I couldn't help smiling instead. It was alright. The pot of gold, the real strike, his dream run to earth, lay somewhere up ahead, around the next bend of the trail. It was alright. That next bend was my father's pot of gold, just as I'd said in my letter. I wondered how long he could have lasted before those beckoning hills stirred the old restlessness. How many months before the ranch itself was an enemy, and, the first crack had appeared that told of trouble coming? We waved goodbye, and I watched him ride away to keep his appointment with Fortune."

So we part ways here. I continue on my quest a little better for having know Jaimie McPheeters, and I'm optimistic as I select my next Pulitzer, Humbolt's Gift by Saul Bellows.

Until then, my friends... Happy reading!

"He had forgotten the Cause."

"... When the guns began firing he had forgotten it completely. It seemed very strange now to think of morality, or that minister long ago, or the poor runaway black. He looked out across the dark field, could see nothing but the yellow lights and outlines of black bodies stark in the lightning."

In The Killer Angels (1975), Michael Shaara captures the human side of the Civil War, specifically the Battle of Gettysburg, by focusing on the key players involved. Much like the movie Titanic, there is no risk of spoiling the ending; everyone knows the South loses this famous battle and most of its men in the processes. However, Shaara breaths new life into an old story by taking it back to the people, by introducing the human element that history books lack, caught up in the whos and the whats but not the motivations, the relationships and the passions.

Not much one for historical fiction, not to mention gory war novels, I was riveted, rushing headlong into the bloody battle, knowing perfectly well how it would end but wanting the soldiers to live. I had become invested. They had become people.

They were real men fighting for a dream, for a cause, for a lie. Each of them with a different motive; each of them with something to prove: courage, loyalty, that they are better men than most. These men were not ordered to fight by a king but willingly volunteered for the Cause, for the idea. My heart ached for the friends, Armistead and Hancock, finding themselves separated by the war and as enemies at the top of Cemetery Hill. "If I lift a hand against you, friend, may God strike me dead." Breaking a vow of friendship for the sake of loyalty to an idea, a Cause. The reason for the war as varied as the perspective of players.

Does it matter in the end? Lee asks the question "If the ware goes on- and it will, it will - what else can we do be go on? It is the same question forever, what else can we do? If they fight, we will fight with them. And does it matter after all who wins? Was that ever really the question? Will God ask that question in the end?"

God must grow tired of being called down on both sides of a war.

Up next... The Travels of Jaimie McPheeters by Robert Lewis Taylor, winner of the 1959 Pulitzer.

Until then my friends... Happy reading.

"But there are still the hours, aren't there?"

"...One and then another, and you get through that one and then, my god, there's another." Winner of the Pulitzer Prize in 1999, The Hours is a glimpse into the lives of three women: Virgina Wolfe, Laura Brown, and Clarissa Vaughan. All three exist in different places in time, but their lives intertwine in an unsuspecting twist. So understanded, that I almost missed it, and I believe I did miss it when I watched the movie. Perhaps I can pass that off to time and ignorance. I was over ten years younger and spend most of the movie marveling at Nicole Kidmans prosthetic nose.

I digress...

The book revolves around Wolfe's novel Mrs. Dalloway: Virginia is in the process of writing the novel, Laura (a 1950's suburban housewife) is reading the novel, and Clarissa, an independant New Yorker, finds herself in a parrallel universe, unknowingly portraying Mrs. Dalloway as she goes about planning a party in honor a beloved poet. All three women go about their lives, getting through the hours and struggling with their own demons: Virginia with the voices in her head, Laura with the mundane existence as a housewife and her embarrassing failure in baking a birthday cake for her husband, Clarissa with the actuallity of her life and the memories of a past she cannot get back.

At this point in my life, I found this book especially poignant for at times, I find myself frustrated with the mundane events that can take up the hours of a day: loading the dishwasher for the eighth time, washing an almost identical load of laundry as the previous week, picking up my daughter's dirty socks that mysteriously migrate from room to room without the aid of tiny feet. Not to mention the eight hours spend improving the lifes of others, or at leaset attempting to. It is easy to get bogged down in the hours of the day, the hours that you almost have to 'survive,' that you forget to enjoy, to revel in the thrill of living. As Cunningham so aptly states, "We live out lives, do whatever we do, and then we sleep - it's as simple and ordinary as that. ... There's just this for consolation: an hour here or there when our lives seem, against all odds and expectations, to burst open and give us everything we've ever imagined, though everyone but children (and perhaps even they) knows these hours will inevitably be followed by others, far darker and more difficult. Still we cherish the city, the morning; we hope, more than anything, for more."

So here I sit at the computer, the soft glow of the screen drying my tired eyes. The sink is empty, and the dirty clothes safely stored until laundry day rolls back around. My daughter dreams blissful dreams of coloring books, crayons, and cows. The hour is growing late, and it is time to call it a night. And while there are times I desire to run away, to shrug off the cloak of responsibility, I will go to bed wanting another year, another day, another hour of this life.

Up next... The Killer Angers by Michael Shaara, winner of the 1975 Pulitzer.

Until then, my friends... Happy reading.

A Good Scent from a Strange Mountain

A Good Scent from a Strange Mountain by Robert Olen Butler won the Pulitzer in 1993. A collection of short stories, this work focuses on the various characters misplaced due to the Vietnam war. Some take place in New Orleans, the area in which most Vietnamese refuges settled as it was most like their home country. Some are simple expressions of longing and hope. All of them are beautifully written.

Perhaps it is because I am a mother, but my favorite short story is a mother spending a quiet moment before her husband returns from work to talk to her unborn daughter. Her mother spoke to her so she will speak to her daughter and her daughter will then share secrets with her child, as is the way with customs.

She tells her daughter secret things, "to begin counseling (her) in the matters of the world that (she) will soon enter. She tells her daughter of a time when she was young, sixteen, and she met the love of her life, Bao, at the Mid-Autumn Festival. Her families at agreed for them to marry, but fate would take them down a different path. Bao was called into the Army before the ceremony and died in battle somewhere in the mountains.

Tragically beautiful, but at the same time full of hope for the future of her unborn daughter, her daughter by a good man.

There are other great stories within the fairly short collection of work. The people are likable for the most part, some of them not quite developed as others (or perhaps I simply didn't pick up on the subtle nuances). However, I believe the work fills a gap in the American experience as I travel on this journey.

At the age of 29, I wasn't even a glimmer in my parents' eyes (I am not even sure my parents were even dating at the time.) What I know of the Vietnam War I learned from the history books or from the wonderful writings of Tim O'Brian. While the Civil War is a common subject upon which to write, Butler covers an equally important era in our nation's history and in an unsuspecting way: from the perspective of an immigrant. How fitting for a nation of immigrants!

Up next: The Hours by Michael Cunningham, winner of the 1999 Pulitzer.

Until then... Happy reading.

The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao

 I was very excited to start this book. It sounded great, and I had received many great reviews from fellow readers whom I love and admire. My excitement dwindled like a bored crowd the further I got into this work. With that said, I can get past my general dislike for the book and understand why it is great enough to be considered for and win the Pulitzer Prize.

The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao won the Pulitzer in 2008, and as the title suggests, it follows the brief life of one Oscar Wao, told from the mostly omniscient voice of Yunior, Oscar's on-again-off-again roommate and would-be boyfriend to Oscar's sister, Lola.

Oscar is a tragic character, an unattractive Dominican American who's most erotic years occurred at the age of 11. Through his awkward teenage years and on into young adulthood, Oscar is a depressed individual, immersed in graphic novels and longing to be a successful writer with the love of a beautiful woman. In the end, he obtains the love he seeks but at a great cost.
 
At times, I found this book a struggle, getting bogged down in the Spanglish and trying to brush back the cobwebs of the dark recesses of my brain where the intermediate Spanish classes I took nine years ago are stored. I also found it depressing as Wao is a self-destructive glutton feasting on trouble. It reminds me slightly of Wuthering Heights in the fact that it sent my own spirit into a downward spiral of depression.
With that said, I appreciate the skill that Diaz displays as well as his reverence, brushing off the flowery language of glorified literature and writing in the common man's prose.
 
Hopefully, I have not detoured anyone from taking this book in hand and learning it's inner-most secrets. Perhaps, I have fallen short in this regard. However, there is always another book to pick up and other characters to befriend. Perhaps I will have better luck next time.

Up next: A Good Scent from a Strange Mountain by Robert Olen Butler, winner of the 1993 Pulitzer.
 
Until then... Happy reading.

Interpreter of Maladies

So, I must admit... I am a little behind. While I find it somewhat easy to pick up a book for a few minutes every other day or so, I find it increasing difficult to write about what I read. I finished Interpreter of Maladies a month or so ago, and I am just now sitting down to the computer to write my thoughts. If I were to be completely honest, I would tell you that I have already finished The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao as well. I haven't written about it either. And while I am not diligent, I find it necessary to record my journey through some of the greatest novels America has to offer. And so I continue....

Interpreter of Maladies by Jhumpa Lahiri is a wonderful short collection of stories. All of which relate to the author's native country of India. Some take place in India; others depict Indians adjusting to the American way.  Lahiri has a wonderful way of weaving such a fine seam between the two countries, I found it difficult, at times, to know on what side of the Atlantic to picture myself.

Within each story, I felt dropped deliberately into the middle of a person's life to decipher the who, what, when, where, and how of the matter, like when you tune into a 10-year-running soap opera for the first time. Lahiri has a quality reminiscent of J.D. Salinger in Nine Stories (this collect also has nine stories, but I am sure that is just coincidence), and she is able to capture emotion in the simple moments, leaving the reader uncertain of themselves.

My two favorite stories with this collection are "A Temporary Matter" and "Interpreter of Maladies." In "A Temporary Matter," a couple has received a letter that their electricity will be temporary shut off at 8:00 every night. Under the protective covering of darkness and candlelight, the wife uses this as a way for the two to reveals things about themselves that the other doesn't know. As the story continues, a temporary matter takes on a new meaning, and the end leaves you dangling in the uncertainty of the couple's future.

In "Interpreter of Maladies," the main character is Mr. Kapasi, an interpreter for a doctor during the week and a chauffeur on the weekend. This particular weekend, he is chauffeuring an Americanized Indian family who is visiting their native country after a considerable absence. They are more tourists that family returning for a visit. Mr. Kapasi is flattered when the wife begins to take an interest in him and his position as an interpreter of maladies. To his own wife, he is merely a doctor's assistant, a failure, but to his passenger, his position was "romantic" and carried great responsibility.  He finds himself growing infatuated with this glamorous woman, too busy for her children and not really paying much attention to anyone other than herself. He is quickly reminded, however, that brief moments can't last a lifetime.

It's king of funny to think, though, that that is what a lifetime is: a series of brief moments and small beauties. And it is ofter the little things that we remember about a person: Nanny cutting fabric holding pens between her teeth, coloring my dad's toenails with a #2 pencil, brushing off my daughter's knees after a fall. Small brief moments that make up a lifetime. I want to collect them all.

Up next, my report on The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao.

Until then... Happy reading.

All the King's Men

So after a few long months, I have finally finished Robert Penn Warren's All the King's Men, winner of the 1947 Pulitzer Prize. I wasn't excited about reading this one. If I were honest, I would say that I was dreading it... about as much as I am dreading Gone with the Wind. Reading the back cover (and I know you shouldn't judge a book by its proverbial cover), I was anticipating a book about Louisiana politics. If there is one thing I hate more than a boring book, it's a book about politics. But in an effort to keep an open mind, I greeting the ambitious task with a large cup of coffee and nothing by time.

Sure. Time. Something I have loads of as a full-time employee, wife, and mother. But I digress.

I will be the first to say that I enjoyed the journey, the ambling pathways and detours it took, in a winded but even pace. And while it was largely about corrupt politics (as if there is any other kind), it was more about the journey of the narrator, Jack Burden.

Appropriately named, Jack Burden is a man carrying the burden of a successful family and his inability to rise to the challenge in his own right. He quites his job at the paper when he refuses to publish an article in favor of a candidate whom he can't support. He seemingly finds his salvation in Willie Stark, a good ol' boy from the country with no experience in politics but a good heart to help the common man. My how power can change a man!

You know from the end of the first chapter (might I mention that they are about 50 pages long!), you know that things are not going to end too well for Willie Stark and his pawns. It just takes another 550 pages for you to find out why. Through those pages, you wander in and out of the past, learning how Willie Stark became the Boss, why Burden is the way he is, and how everything fell apart upon uncovering a pretty hefty secret.

While the book centers around Louisiana politics, the heart of the novel rests in human nature and moral courage. Is it human nature to lie, cheat, and steal to get what you want? Perhaps. When left to our own devices, are we just like animals: survival of the fittest? Perhaps.

My daddy has always said that the measure of the good in a person is also the measure of the bad. I think my dad is a pretty smart man. The most beautiful places on earth are also the deadliest, full of venomous animals, and carnivorous creatures. While man strives to be good and do good things, the means do not always justify the end. While Burden tries to be a good man, he misses his opportunity to rise up and do what is morally right, and while Willie Stark wants to do right by the common man, his means are neither moral or ethical. Perhaps he has just learned to play the game.

Something, I think, I will never learn to do.

So I leave the realm of politics for the Taj Mahal. Up next, Interpreter of Maladies by Jhumpta Lahiri, winner of the 2000 Pulitzer Prize.

Until then... Happy reading.