Monsters of Men, by Patrick Ness

Book three of the Chaos Walking trilogy, this book was . . . pretty good. I think I wanted to like them more than they I did, but they were worth the read, I think. 

Here's a brief summary of them all:

"The three novels feature two adolescents, Todd Hewitt and Viola Eade, who encounter various moral issues and high stakes as the planet around them erupts into war. The Knife of Never Letting Go(2008) begins with Todd being forced to flee his town after discovering a patch of silence, free of Noise. In the second book, The Ask and the Answer (2009), tensions rise as a civil war between two opposing factions forms, and in the final book, Monsters of Men (2010) the indigenous species of New World rebels against the humans just as a ship full of new settlers is set to arrive on the planet. The series has won almost every major children's fiction award in the UK, including the 2008 Guardian award, the James Tiptree, Jr. Award, and the Costa Children's Book Award. Monsters of Men won the Carnegie Medal in 2011. The series has been praised for its handling of themes such as gender politics, redemption, the meaning of war, and the unclear distinction between good and evil, all threaded through its complex, fast-paced narrative" (via).

House on Mango Street : Sandra Cisneros

Just might be one of the sweetest books I've ever read.

"But my mother's hair, my mother's hair like little rosettes, like little candy circles all curly and pretty because she pinned it in pincers all day, sweet to put your nose into when she is holding you, holding you and you feel safe, is the warm smell of bread before you bake it, is the smell when she makes room for you on her side of the bed still warm with her skin, and you sleep near her, the rain outside falling and Papa snoring. The snoring, the rain, and Mama's hair that smells like bread." 

Just beautiful

The Girl Who Save the King of Sweden - Jonas Jonasson

This is my second read of Jonas Jonasson, and I was a bit disappointed. My first read, The 100-Year-Old Man Who Climbed out the Window and Disappeared was better.

But it could also have been the mood I was in because it's that kind of read. The story is fun and everywhere, in a Forrest Gump sort of storyline, and I appreciate Jonasson's writing style and wit. It just seemed to drag on a bit in this one.  

The story line is, "In a tiny shack in the largest township in South Africa, Nombeko Mayeki is born. Put to work at five years old and orphaned at ten, she quickly learns that the world expects nothing more from her than to die young. But Nombeko has grander plans. She learns to read and write, and at just fifteen, using her cunning and fearlessness, she makes it out of Soweto with millions of smuggled diamonds in her possession. Then things take a turn for the worse. . . . 

Nombeko’s life ends up hopelessly intertwined with the lives of Swedish twins intent on bringing down the Swedish monarchy. In this wild romp, Jonasson tackles issues ranging from the pervasiveness of racism to the dangers of absolute power. In the satirical voice that has earned him legions of fans the world over, he gives us another rollicking tale of how even the smallest of decisions can have global consequences" (via).

For me, one of the highlights was the little quote that started out each of the seven sections of the story:

The difference between stupidity and genius is that genius has its limits – unknown

The more I see of men, the more I like my dog – Madame De Stael

Present – the part of eternity dividing the domain of disappointment from the realm of hope – Ambrose Bierce

Life need not be easy, provided only that it is not empty – Lise Meitner

If the person you are talking to doesn’t appear to be listening, be patient. It may simply be that he has a small piece of fluff in his ear – Winnie-the-pooh

I have never once in my life seen a fanatic with a sense of humor – Amoz Oz

Nothing is permanent in this wicked world – not even our troubles – Charlie Chaplin

This book will not challenge your life in any way. Nor will it give you much food for thought. It's candy. That's it. 

And honestly, you might be better off watching Forrest Gump. Remember how good this was/is?

Silence, by Shusaku Endu - A MUST READ

As a life rule, I don't read books with movie covers, but this one was a gift from a former student who likes to challenge the status quo (thanks Graceann!) so I thought I'd make an exception.

Praise the Lord for broken rules.

Silence, like an anchor plunging into a raging ocean, has pierced my frustrated mind and calmed my torrential heart. For a generation seeking honestly and authenticity, this book holds under the lamp the struggles and blemishes and hope of Faith. Endo offers an open portrayal of mankind, our beauty and our tattered rags, and invites us all into the awkward and terrible silence of life that has no clear answers or discernible purpose . And he does so without fear or shame. 

With all my bruised and tattered heart I recommend this book to all.

Here is hint (and perhaps spoiler) of what Silence will bring:

God did not grant our poor companion the joy of being restored to health. But everything that God does is for the best. No doubt God is secretly preparing the mission that some day will be his (pg 21).

Written in the early stages of the novel, this simple statement becomes the backbone for the journey through silence, and the struggles of God's secret plan. The story is beautifully written but horrific in honesty as it allows doubt the freedom to roam and scream and cry - and to beat down the certainty of a just God. 

But Christ did not die for the good and the beautiful. It is easy enough to die for the good and beautiful; the hard thing is to die for the miserable and corrupt (pg 38).

One of Sebastian's first lessons, that God does not think nor act in the way of man, nor is He limited to "this or that" thinking. Because God didn't die for the miserable and corrupt alone, he died for all - because all are good and beautiful, and miserable and corrupt. Like Sebastian.

What do I want to say? I myself do not quite understand. Only that today, when for the glory of God Mokichi and Ichizo moaned, suffered and died, I cannot bear the monotonous sound of the dark sea gnawing at the shore. Behind the depressing silence of this sea, the silence of God . . . the feeling that while men raise their voices in anguish God remains with folded arms, silent" (pg 64).

Neither do I, myself, quite understand. 

Sin is for one man to walk brutally over the life of another and to be quite oblivious of the wounds he has left behind (pg 92).

This is one of the most powerful quotes on sin I've ever read. Nestled just about midway through the story, it seems, perhaps, a turning point - even if Sebastian isn't aware of it yet. Because, ultimately, although God appears silent, with arms crossed, he is not "oblivious of the wounds he has left behind." He is aware. Very aware. But He is also Just, and Good, with a larger plan in mind.

If it is true that God is really loving and merciful, how do you explain the fact that he gives so many trials and sufferings of all kinds to man on his way to Heaven? (pg 96).

Answer: Because He is kind and merciful and is not limited to "this or that" thinking. 

No, no. Our Lord had searched out the ragged and the dirty. Thus he reflected as he lay in bed. Among the people who appeared in the pages of the Scripture, those whom Christ had searched after in love were the woman of Capharnaum with the issue of blood, the woman take in adultery whom men had wanted to stone - people with no attraction, no beauty. Anyone could be attracted by the beautiful and charming. But could such attraction be called love? True love was to accept humanity when wasted like rags and tatters. Theoretically the priest knew all this; but still he could not forgive Kichijiro. Once again near his face came the face of Christ, wet with tears. When the gentle eyes looked straight into his, the priest was filled with shame (pg 124).

In the margins of my book I wrote, "holy shit." This is one of the toughest yet greatest passages of the book because not only did it deeply reveal my heart, it deeply revealed my heart. "True love was to accept humanity WHEN wasted like rags and tatters." When I first read these lines, I thought of those who have abandoned me, who have walked away and said, "Your rags and tatters are too much." Then, along with the priest, I was filled with shame. Because I have done the same. Because I am the same.

I'm not telling you to trample out of conviction. If you just go through with formality, it won't hurt your beliefs (pg 127).

These words are provocative because, on both ends, it challenges the connection of actions to the heart. I think most, if not all, would agree that apostatizing in action does in fact hurt one's beliefs - just ask Peter. But then, could the reverse also be said? That the formality of religion won't promote one's faith, right? Why is one true and not the other? This is not so easy to swallow and I need more time to consider it.

'But in the churches we built throughout this country the Japanese were not praying to they Christian God. They twisted God to their own way of thinking in a way we can never imagine. If you call that God . . .' Ferreira lowered his eyes and moved his lips as though something had occurred to him. 'No. That is not God. It is like a butterfly caught in a spider's web. At first it is certainly a butterfly, but the next day only the externals, the wings and the trunk, are those of a butterfly; it has lost its true reality and has become a skeleton. In Japan our God is just like that butterfly caught in the spider's web: only the exterior form of God remains, but it has already become a skeleton' (pg 160).

And not just in Japan . . . could it be because of formality? Maybe, but also, many other things. Because we, like are motives, are simply "this or that."

: (possible) Answer :

"There is something more important than the Church, more important than missionary work . . . and then Christ . . . speaks to the priest: 'Trample! Trample! It was to be trampled by men that I was born into this world It was to share men's pain that I carried my cross' (pg 182, 183).

It isn't enough, but it is sufficient. Because if I knew it all, if I could explain and understand all that He has planned and how He thinks, than He wouldn't be worth calling God. He wouldn't be worth trusting. 

Because things I can explain are simple things, and simple things don't deserve worship.

Silence is now a major motion picture, starring Liam Neeson, and directed by Martin Scorsese.

All the Light We Cannot See, by Anthony Doerr

Open your eyes and see what you can with them before they close forever.

SPOILER ALERT!!!

There are many more, but I've boiled it down to two thoughts:

On Dads:

At first, it was Marie-Laure's father that stood out to me. His love, his devotion, and his wisdom were challenging and convicting, as a father and as a son. 

Unintentional perhaps, but this story awoke in me the Power of being a Dad, and that the plans I have for the future may never actually come; before I'm ready, my time my close forever. And what will I leave behind? Will my kids be able to survive? Thrive? Endure? 

How will I love my children here. Now. So that if tomorrow never comes, I will be with them forever.

This storyline captured me. And I ached for him and hoped so deeply that he would make it out of prison and be able to come back home to his daughter. 

On Single Stories:

About two-thirds of the way through, I began to struggle a bit with the Single Story concept, "How many times must we read stories about the Germans?" Then I had a great discussion, as always, with Alison Allen, a good friend and fellow English teacher. She reminded me of how important it is to never forget the atrocities that have happened, to never forget those who have suffered and died, and to never stop telling those stories - now matter how hard they are.

Tell of the Nazi concentration camps, the African American enslavements, the rape of the Native American people, and tell them over and over again. Lest we repeat them. Lest we forget. 

Because, "Every hour, she thinks, someone for whom the war was memory falls out of the world" (pg 529). 

Doerr, in his unique style of storytelling wrote a story that not only reminded us of The War, it also challenged the single story of the war. It told of Fredrick and his strength to stand up to the Reicht - even though it cost him his life - and he told of Werner, a young German, soon-to-be-Nazi boy, who, in all his complexity and ugliness and beauty, does not fit the Nazi mold. He actually reminded me of Germany’s leading fighter aces, Franz Stigler from A Higher Call, who had mercy on his enemies and saved the lives of several Americans by flying formation over Germany's Iron Curtain. It's a crazy story that highlights the complexity yet beauty of humanity. Just like Werner. 

Near the end of the book, and the war, Doerr also adds in a small yet poignant scene of invading Russian soldiers who behave in the most atrocious of ways towards a small band of little girls, and I can only assume that Doerr intentionally adds this scene as a reminder that not all Germans were devils, and not all non-Germans were angels. It's a short yet powerful reminder that we are all capable of doing terrible things, not just our enemies.

A beautiful read. A powerful story. An acute reminder. 

Half of a Yellow Sun, by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie

Almost twelve years ago I read, The God of Small Things by Arundhati Roy and remember thinking, "I don't really get it, but I like it." I think now it was because it was such a different story, and that there was something being communicated that was bigger than me, that I couldn't quiet articulate but knew was there. Like the smell of a coming rain.

Half of a Yellow Sun is a similar sort of story. It is beautiful and raw and unapologetic. It's Africa. It's Adichie. It's Kainene. And I absolutely loved it. And yet, I'm not fully sure why. Which is the best kind of art.

Here are two thoughts I'm wresting with:

On Sex:

"The truth is that most of the time when writers deal with sex, they avoid writing about the act itself. There are a lot of scenes that jump from the first button being undone to a postcoital cigarette (metaphorically, that is) or that cut from the unbuttoning to another scene entirely. The further truth is that even when they write about sex, they're really writing about something else" (Foster).

Adichie's scenes don't exactly cut from one to another entirely, but she is definitely talking about something else. Betrayal. Loyalty. Longings (not physical). Identity. Revenge. Belonging. Wonder. And a myriad of other things. 

"When they're writing about other things, they really mean sex, and when they're writing about sex, they really mean something else. If they write about sex and mean strictly sex, we have a word for that. Pornography" (Foster).

Adichie's Half of a Yellow Sun is far from pornography. It's so much more, because sex can be "pleasure, sacrifice, submission, rebelion, resignation, supplication, domination, enlightenment, the whole works" (How to Read Lit Like a Professor, Foster). 

It's Life.

On Richard Churchill:

There are many powerful and beautiful characters living in Half A Yellow Sun, all of which are fully dynamic and flawed. But, for the not-so-obvious reasons, Richard is the one I related to the most - because of his desire to write the story of the people he loved, and the struggles that ensued. 

Richard is a shadow of the possible hero, Ugwu, as their lives and sins are thinly paralleled. But where Ugwu can step forward and assume the rightful position of a voice for his country, Richard must step back. Which he does. Reluctantly at first, but with a confidence and peace at the end that sits heavy on my mind. As deep truth should.

Ultimately, what Nigeria needs, is for Richard to stop. He is accepted and loved by Nigeria (Kainene), he is used by Nigeria (Olanna), and he is hated yet eventually accepted by Nigeria (Odenigbo). He also plays a role in inspiring Nigeria (Ugwu), but ultimately, his responsibility within Nigeria is to back off and play the minor character. Because he is not Nigeria. He is the white foreigner. He is Churchill.

Favorite Quotes:

"She pulled a cigarette from the case, but she didn't light it. She put it down the bedside table and came over and hugged him, a tremulous tightening of her arms around him. He was surprised he did not hug her back. She had never embraced him that closely unless they were in bed. She did not seem to know what to make of the hug either, because she backed away from him quickly and lit the cigarette. He thought about that hug often, and each time he did he had the sensation of a wall crumbling." pg 88

"He discusses the British soldier-merchant Tubman Goldie, how he coerced, cajoled, and killed to gain control of the pal-oil trade and how, at Berlin Conference of 1884 where Europeans divided Africa, he ensured that Britain beat France to two protectorates around the River Niger: the North and the South.

The British preferred the North. The heat there was pleasantly dry; the Hausa-Fulani were narrow-featured and therefore superior to the negroid Southerners, Muslim and therefore as civilized as one could get for natives., feudal and therefore perfect for indirect rule. Equable emirs collected taxes for the British, and the British, in return, kept the Christian missionaries away. 

The humid South, on the other hand, was full of mosquitoes and antimists and disparate tribes. The Yoruba were the largest in the Southwest. In the Southeast, the Igbo lived in small republican communities. They were nondocile and worryingly ambitious. Since the did not have the good sense to have kings, the British created "warrant chiefs." because indirect tule cost the Crown less. Missionaries were allowed in to tame the pagans, and the Christianity and education they brought flourished. In 1914, the governor-general joined the North and the South, and his wife picked the name. Nigera was born." pg 146

For more one . . .

Reading Log 2017  :  Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie  :  Books to Read

The Underground Railroad - Colson Whitehead

"She wasn't surprised when his character revealed itself - if you waited long enough, it always did." - pg 15

To quote President Obama, "Mr. Whitehead's most recent novel is a reminder of the way in which the pain of slavery transmits itself across generations, not just in overt ways, but how it changes minds and hearts."