The Nickel Boys

 

I don't even know where to begin with writing about Colson Whitehead's The Nickel Boys. What a powerful read.

I read Whitehead's previous novel, The Underground Railroad, back in July of this year. I enjoyed that one, although am still not sure how I feel about some of the fantastical aspects of the novel.

The Nickel Boys is different. It's based on the true story of The Dozier School for Boys, a boys' reform school in northern Florida that was in existence for over 100 years. The two things that struck me most about  this book were my familiarity with the discovery for unmarked graves of students on school property in 2011, the year after I moved to Florida. The other thing that brought me to pause was following the Derek Chauvin murder trial, for the killing of George Floyd last May, at the same time.

Elwood Curtis lived with his grandmother in Tallahassee, Florida in the early 1960s. He was an inquisitive boy and tried to stick to the straight and narrow. He received an album of Martin Luther King Jr.'s speeches which became a treasured possession. In high school, he got involved with the Civil Rights movement. He develops a relationship with one of his teachers who makes it possible for Elwood to attend a black college on the outskirts of Tallahassee while  he's still in his senior year of high school. Because the college is  on the outskirts of  town, Elwood needs to hitchhike to get to the college. He gets picked up by a Packard which turns out to be a stolen car. As a punishment for "his crime," Elwood is sent to The Nickel Academy.

The Nickel Academy is open to both black and white boys, but it is very much segregated. We are led to believe that the experiences of the white boys versus that of the black boys is very different. Elwood, as a black "student," gets punished early on and winds up in the hospital. After that, he's a bit more careful. Until he decides that he needs to take a stand against the injustices against others that he observes during his time at the reform school. 

Living in Florida has been eye opening to me. I was raised in NYC and while I'm sure everyone was not treated equally or fairly, the racism wasn't as blatant as it is in the south. In 2011 when the story of The Dozier School broke, I had a hard time something so horrible could be happening "in this day and age" so close to where I was living. One of the characters in the novel, Millie, was raised in NYC and she has a hard time coming to terms with what "Elwood" has experienced.

This week, though, listening to the Derek Chauvin murder trial, I can't help but wonder about the lack of progress we, as a nation, have made over the past 60 years in terms of civil rights. We haven't come far at all. We have a very long way to go.

I would highly recommend  this griping, spare, raw novel.

Ordinary Grace

I discovered Ordinary Grace while scrolling through the books available at the library last week. I recognized the name William Kent Krueger as being the author of This Tender Land, a much talked about novel these days, one that I haven't (yet?) read. Next I checked the reviews on goodreads.com. They seemed fabulous. Having nothing else to read, I checked this novel out of the library and began to read.

I was quickly caught up in the summer story of brothers, 13-year old Frankie Drum and  his younger brother, Jake.

It was the summer of 1961. Their father, Nathan, has been a minister in the southern Minnesota town of New Bremen, the hometown of their mother, Ruth. There's a lot of personal history in this small town.

The summer of 1961 is a summer of tragedy for the Drum family and for the people of New Bremen. Each person's faith is tested numerous times over the summer. As such, this is a book about faith. It's also a mystery, a genre I don't typically enjoy. But in this case the mystery was secondary.

For a book full of heartache, this was a pleasant book to lose oneself in.
 

Our Italian Summer

 

I've been reading some pretty heavy stuff lately and was excited to read Jennifer Probst Our Italian Summer as a bit of a break. I'm also still mourning the loss of my one month in Italy that was planned for this past autumn. After readings some great reviews on goodreads.com, my expectations were pretty high. Then I was disappointed.

I never really got a good feel for Italy while reading. Since I'm not so much into chick lit at this point, that's what I was really hoping to get. The novel did help bring back some memories of a previous trip to Italy, though, since as I was reading, I'd flip through some of my photos from that trip mostly to compare notes. Example: Yes! We did eat pizza at the same place in Naples. But I never really "felt" Italy on the pages of this book. I wanted to feel as if I was in Italy with them.

I wish there would have been more descriptions of the places they visited. Or something that would bring up the scent of the lemons of Capri. Or just how  overwhelming being at Pompeii feels. And why weren't there better food descriptions? I mean, two of the characters were so into food. The food seemed kind of flat. Plus I was a bit confused as to why they were eating cannolis in Rome when there are other Roman desserts that are better there. (Save your cannoli eating for southern Italy.) Which reminds me, why weren't they drinking limoncello when on Capri? I needed more.

I'm  sure the fact that I didn't like the characters didn't help me like the book any better. Then again, to me the characters were pretty flat and not particularly well developed. The most well-developed characters were Enzo and Ian, and they were probably the only two characters that I liked. I understood the characters' motivations for many of their actions but that was as far as it went. I wanted more.

I had never heard for Jennifer Probst, but apparently she has a huge following. For those folks, I'd recommend this novel. For everyone else, I'm not really sure about that.

The Four Winds

It was pretty interesting reading Kristin Hannah's latest, The Four Winds, so soon after reading West With Giraffes by Laura Rutledge. Both historical fiction novels deal with the Dust Bowl. Both have main characters who are looking for the Land of Milk and Honey in California. Their backstories are somewhat similar. But that's where the similarities end.

Elsa Martinelli always felt as though she didn't belong. She never quite fit in. The Martinelli farm is failing. The land has dried up, the town is in the midst of The Great Depression. Eventually, Elsa needs to decide if she is going to stand by the land or travel west to California in search of a healthier, better life.

Hannah says that she has taken some liberties with some of the historical content of the novel, but I believe it is a fairly accurate portrayal of Texas and a part of California in the early 1930s.

This is a novel about overcoming obstacles and finding your voice. Elsa's beloved grandfather always told her to be brave, and if she couldn't be brave, she had to fake it. As life becomes more and more difficult, Elsa is really challenged to be able to do so.

The Four Winds was very well written, harrowing at times, but a book I couldn't wait to get back to each night.

Send for Me

 

Send for Me, Lauren Fox's semi-autobiographical historical fiction novel, was quite different from what I expected. It's certainly not your typical World War II novel although that's when a good part of the story is set.

Unlike other novels which have alternating storylines between present day adults and their grandparents during World War II, the format of this is not the stand one of alternating chapters or even anything like this.

Similar to the way the author's style is lyrical and poetic, the storylines meander in a less formal structure.  It's a character driven novel and you really feel the love and the ache of loss between the family members.

The two main characters are Annelise and her granddaughter, Clare. Annelise is a young woman when things in Germany start to become uncomfortable for Jews. She's a dreamer and is always looking for the next great thing. She works with her parents in their bakery where she meets the man she will marry. When things get impossible for the Jews in Germany, Annelise and her husband have the opportunity to leave Germany and head to the United States. But what about Annelise's parents?

In present day Wisconsin, Annelise's granddaughter, Clare is  going through some tough times when she finds her grandmother's letters and comes to some realization about the importance of family connections.

Fox's author's note at the end of the novel added an extra dimension to the experience of reading this fairly short  novel.

The end of an era

I'm writing this on Friday, but scheduling this to post Tuesday evening, after I've had time to let the members of the book club that I lead know that I'm quitting my position as community book club leader.

My heart is breaking. Yes, I've often thought about giving up the leadership role. But I never thought I'd feel forced to do so. 

I get so much email from the country club that is part of my community. I'm not sure why the other day I stopped to read one of the emails. It was information about our activity center. About how it's reopening on April 5 for all activities and clubs. They're removing some seating to  make social distancing easier. You can wear a mask, but you don't have to.

I guess I'm glad I saw that since later that evening, I got another email in my role of club leader. I was informed that I have to reapply to get my club somehow reinstated. Do they not realize that I've been keeping the book club going via zoom for the past 10 months? There's all sorts of paperwork that needs to be completed, including information about club members. There was one line in the email that rubbed me the wrong way. I should probably quote it exactly, but it was something like, "If you don't feel safe, stay home."

I don't feel safe. I haven't yet been vaccinated. I'm not sure when I will be able to get vaccinated. I'm a believer in masks. I don't want to be in any indoor space that allows unmasked unvaccinated people to mix with me. My mask protects them, not really me. Who is going to protect me?

As if covid-19 hasn't been isolating enough, this is one more loss that is hitting me hard.

I hope that someone steps up to start a new book club. Maybe once things become safer, I might rejoin. But I'm done leading. And that makes me sad.

The Exiles

When I would think about Australia being set up as a penal colony, my thoughts would always be of men prisoners. Some really evil people, some who simply got caught up in some bad stuff but weren't all bad. But I really never thought about the women. In order to grow a country, you'd need men and women, right?

After reading Christina Baker Kline's historical fiction novel, The Exiles, I now see that there were plenty of women prisoners. And like my imagined men, some women were truly evil and many just got caught in some really bad stuff without the opportunity to defend themselves.

I can't really think of a proper way to summarize The Exiles. It's a story of  the resiliency of women set on the backdrop of Australia in the 1840s. Evangeline, Olive and Hazel are "transport" prisoners who meet when they travel together from London to Hobart, present day Tasmania. We follow them through their prisoner years and later.

Another type of exile whose story is told is Matthina, an Aborigine princess. She was first forced to move with her parents from their homeland to another small island. After the death of both her parents, even though she has a stepfather, she's "adopted" by the wife of the new governor of Van Diemen’s Land. 

I would definitely recommend reading this novel if anything I've written above sounds interesting to you.

I read Orphan Train also by Christina Baker Kline several years ago. I enjoyed that book as well. Now off to see what else this author has written.
 

I'll Be Seeing You

 

I'm the type of reader who is always on the lookout for my next book. Even when I have plenty of books out from the library or know exactly what I want to read next. What else can I read?

During my evening doomscrolling a few nights ago, I came across a blog post of books a young woman (younger than me, at least) has read during the pandemic. She mentioned a memoir by Elizabeth Berg, an author I know and like. It covers the time when Berg became caregiver for her parents during their final days.

I'm approaching the 7th anniversary of the day when I transitioned from being loving daughter to loving daughter caregiver. This is always a sad time for me. I mean, one day I was just my parents' daughter, talking to them every night to make sure they were doing okay. And the next day I was advocating for my mom at the hospital, reviewing her living will and other documents. At the same time making sure that my dad who had never lived alone would be okay. It was a lot. I think of my life as "before" and "after".

Was this the perfect time to read Berg's memoir, I'll Be Seeing You? Perhaps not. But perhaps yes. It gave me a legitimate reason to climb into bed each night and shed a few tears while reading.

Berg's experience with her parents - and her story - is quite different from my own. Her father was suffering from memory loss and faded very slowly. And her mother had to stoically deal with all that. Berg lived a 7-hour drive from her parents but her sister was local to where the parents lived. They have a brother who lives in Hawaii.

In my case, my parents' ends came very rapidly. My mom had a stroke on March 6 and died on March 25. On April 13, my dad was diagnosed with cancer and he died exactly 4 months later. So not quite 5 months after my mom. Both my brother and I lived flying distance from our parents. I was there for 6 months, flying home once when my (fairly new) husband had surgery and to spend a weekend with a dear friend in California. My brother flew in and out as he could.

So much, however, of what Berg wrote really spoke to me. Her parents had lived in their home for nearly 40 years. She wrote about the attachment to the house, even though she had never lived there. My parents lived in their house for all of the 57 years they'd been married. My mom grew up in that house. I grew up in that house. My kids grew up visiting that house as was the case with Berg's children. She wrote about being the sandwich generation. About what it's like  to be aging herself and closer to the point where her kids might need to care  for her. 

She wrote about visiting her uncle Frank at his nursing home. Shortly before either one of my parents "got sick," I drove them to visit my father's brother in his nursing home. Oh  yes, could I relate!

One thing that Berg wrote about the book was that she hoped her memoir might help others going through the same thing. It is good to know that we're not alone. It reminded me, too, that caring for aging parents as an older adult isn't ideal, but it does mean that we were blessed to have our parents for a good part of our lives.

Then I woke up this morning and saw the following post on Facebook by John Pavlovitz.

That's the thing you learn as you grieve deeply: when you lose someone you love, you lose a bit of you.

You don't simply lose yourself metaphorically or symbolically, but you have stolen away the part of your story that only they knew.

You lose the shared memories you curated.

You lose the you who you were when you were with them.

A part of you dies too, and so you want the person you love returned to you because you want that piece of your identity back—and you know you can't have it.

He linked a blog post. He takes this a whole lot further.

Many times over the past six years I’ve had to contend with a sobering realization: life will never be as good as it was when my father was here.
It will never be that complete.
I’ll never feel that rightness again.
That wholeness can simply not return.
My world now is a less-than substitute of the one where my father was alive.

And being a mere mortal who has no say in the when and where and how of reality, all I can do is be here in this world as it is, be who I am in this altered story that I wish I could rewrite but know I cannot.

We who are mourning in this timeline can only work with the reality handed to us and do the best we can to find gratitude in having once had someone worth missing. 

Mom and Dad, I miss you. Thank you for making me the reader I am. Reading often gives me comfort.

Necessary Lies

 

I'm somehow surprised that this 2013 historical fiction novel, Necessary Lies by Diane Chamberlain, wasn't on really my radar. When I finished American Dirt, I needed another book to read since nothing on hold had come in, browsed the library website for what was available and came across this one. Apparently it was kind of sort of on my radar since I had added it to my "want to read" list on goodreads. 

I'd read two other Diane Chamberlain novels. Pretending to Dance which I read for my community book club and The Stolen Marriage which I didn't like quite as much, but in this time of coronavirus, I think about it often.

What a story! Apparently well into the 1970s, there was a eugenics program in North Carolina. Yes, you read that right. Until the 1970s, a board selected people that they felt shouldn't reproduce and they sterilized them. Most other states abandoned the practice shortly after WWII because it was too closely associated with Nazi Germany.

Necessary Lies is the story of young, idealistic social worker, Jane, and some of her clients. Jane takes over from another social worker although her training is cut short  when the woman training her falls and breaks her leg. We meet Jane's clients, some of the people who live and work on the Gardiner tobacco farm. It's the Jim Crow south.

Necessary Lies is also the story of 15-year old Ivy Hart. After her father's death and her mother's commitment, she lives with her grandmother, her 17-year old sister, and her sister's 2-year old son. Her grandmother has diabetes and is not aging well. She's not up to the task of raising Ivy, Mary Ella or Baby William. Mary Ella is "feeble-minded" and Baby William is most likely following in his mother's footsteps. The task of running their sharecroppers home on the Gardiner farm is up to  Ivy who is dealing with epilepsy. 

Jane gets a little overly involved with the Hart family which causes problems in her new marriage as well as problems at work.

Not great literature but wow, what a story! At times I had to stop and think. Wait! This was happening in the 1960? Unimaginable. I'd highly recommend.