Reading Novels

We're in Salt Lake City on our way home - hope to be there on Sunday night. I'll write some more about our travels and post some pictures after we get back. In the meantime, here are a couple things about reading novels.

I mentioned A Novel Bookstore by Laurence Cossé in my last post. I am finally about finished with it. It is a terrific read. It's about a bookstore called The Good Novel, and part of the plot is figuring out who their detractors are. At one point the owner writes a letter to a newspaper describing why there should be good novels. It is worth sharing. Her name is Francesca, and you should know that she had a little daughter who was killed in an accident. Here is the piece:

For as long as literature has existed, suffering, joy, horror, grace, and everything that is great in humankind has produced great novels. These exceptional books are often not very well known, and are in constant danger of being forgotten, and in today’s world, where the number of books being published is considerable, the power of marketing and the cynicism of business have joined forces to keep those extraordinary books indistinguishable form millions of insignificant, not to say pointless, books.

But those masterful novels are life-giving. They enchant us. They help us to live. They teach us. It has become necessary to come to their defense and promote them relentlessly, because it is an illusion to think that they have the power to radiate it all by themselves. That alone is our ambition.

We want necessary books, books we can read the day after a funeral, when we have no tears left for all our crying, when we can hardly stand the pain; books that will be there like loves ones when we have tidied a dead child’s room and copied out her secret notes to have them with us, always, and breathed in her clothes hanging in the wardrobe a thousand time, and there is nothing left to do; books for those nights when no matter how exhausted we are we cannot sleep, and all we want is to tear ourselves away from obsessive visions; books that have heft and do not let us down when all we can hear, over and over, is the policeman saying gently, You will not ever see your daughter alive; we you can no longer stand looking all over the house, all over the garden, in a mad frenzy for little John, when fifteen times a night you find him again in the little pond lying on his stomach in ten inches of water; books you can take to your friend whose son hanged himself in his room, two months ago, two months that seem like an hour; books you can take to a brother who is so sick you no longer recognize him.

Every day, Adrien opens his veins, Maria gets drunk, Anand is knocked down by a truck, a twelve-year old Chechen or Turkoman or Darfurian is raped. Every day, Véronique dries the eyes of a condemned man, an old woman holds the hand of a horribly disfigured dying man, a man takes in his arms a dazed little child from among the corpses.

We have no time to waste on insignificant books, hollow books, books that are here to please.
We have no time for those sloppy, hurried books of the “Go on, I need it for July, and in September we’ll give you a proper launch and sell one hundred thousand copies, it’s in the bag” variety.

We want books that cost their authors a great deal, books where you can feel the years of work, the backache, the writer’s block, the author’s panic that he might be lost, his discouragement, his courage, his anguish, his stubbornness, the risk of failure he has taken.

We want splendid books, books that immerse us in the splendor of reality and keep up there; books that prove to us that love is at work in the world next to evil, right up against it, at times indistinctly, and that it always will be, just the way that suffering will always ravage hearts. We want good novels.

We want books that leave nothing out: neither human tragedy nor everyday wonders, books that bring fresh air into our lungs.

From A Novel Bookstore by Laurence Cossé, pp. 278-280

In a similar vein, see Richard Powers' (The Time of Our Singing) fiction piece in the October 18 New Yorker.

Re-read a favorite novel!

New Orleans

We'll be leaving New Orleans this morning after a quick two-night stay. I had never been here before, but had certainly heard many rave reviews from friends.

On our first night, I wasn't sure if I would like it here. We're in a nice hotel in a quiet corner of the French Quarter, but we had a bit of a rocky beginning at the hotel with some misunderstandings about the room. Then we walked around a bit, and I didn't really take to it all. Really noisy, not very clear as to where you were, way too touristy. But we had a wonderful dinner at Brigtsen's in the Garden District.

On Saturday we went to Croissant d'Or for breakfast and had really good fruit, quiche, and good coffee and just hung out in a neighborhood place. We'll go there again this morning before we leave. Then we went on a two-hour walking tour of the French Quarter with a tour guide from the the Cabildo, which is a volunteer organization that supports the Louisiana State Museum (which is in a building called the Cabildo). It was fabulous. We learned so much about the history and the architecture. The guide was a retired dentist, a native of New Orleans (a Cajun - we learned what all those words mean), and really excellent at telling the story of this place. He lives in the Quarter, and we even got to sit for a while in the courtyard of the building in which he lives. He lost his house in another neighborhood in Katrina, and it was very interesting to hear him talk about that whole disaster.

After the tour we walked around some more and did some shopping. I felt much different about the city, and I am sure I would enjoy returning here some time. We had another excellent meal at Mr. B's Bistro, walked around a little more, and then just relaxed for the rest of the evening.

Now we're off to West Monroe, LA, to visit Larry's brother and family, then on Monday to Texas to visit various people. I'm not sure what kind of internet options I'll have for the next three or four days, so I'm getting this one in for now.

Happy 10/10/10!

On the Mississippi

This is a picture of Larry from yesterday at Meriwether Lewis' grave at Grinder's Inn on the Natchez Trace Parkway.

Tonight we're right on the Mississippi River in Vidalia, Louisiana, right across the river from Natchez. We had a great meal in Natchez tonight at a place called Cock in the Walk - catfish, cornbread, hush puppies, slaw, marinated onions, fried shrimp. Very good stuff.

We finished the Natchez Trace Parkway today. There was a lot more traffic, as it seemed more people used the Parkway as part of their regular daily route. This Parkway is very popular with bicyclists (not much up and down at all) and we saw many of them today. It has been very interesting to learn more about the Native Americans of this area - Chickasaw, Choctaw, Natchez, Cherokee, and others. We saw many burial mounds and the remains of villages, and learned too much about the sad history of how they were removed from their lands.

Tomorrow we'll head down the river to New Orleans. We have the Paul and Carol Hinderlie self-guided eating tour in hand, and are looking forward to it! Larry has been there briefly, and I never have. So it will be fun to explore and see as much as we can in about 36 hours. (Nice that the New York Times travel section publishes those little "New Orleans in 36 hour" pieces - a good guide!)

Tomorrow's blog will be from New Orleans!

On the Road

Well, it's been almost four months since I've written this blog, so it's time to start again.

Tonight I'm writing from Tupelo, Mississippi, where Larry and I are staying during our drive on the Natchez Trace Parkway. We left this afternoon from the north end just south of Nashville, and we'll complete the 444 mile drive tomorrow afternoon in Natchez, Mississippi. It is very beautiful, and amazing driving. There are absolutely no cars, no commercial vehicles, and, unless you choose to turn off the Parkway, no stops. We have stopped along the way to see the historical sites, which today included the grave of Meriwether Lewis, who committed suicide on October 11, 1809, at Grinder's Inn, one of the stands, or inns, along the original Trace. The original Trace was basically an indented path worn over the decades that was used for personal and commercial travel in the 19th century.

On Monday we started driving the Blue Ridge Parkway, which was equally beautiful in Virginia and North Carolina. It was amazing to drive along the crest of the Blue Ridge Mountains at about 3500 feet the whole way. Another wonderful drive, and again, not many cars or anything else!

Before that we visited friends and family in Virginia, Chicago, and St. Louis. Larry's been on the road since September 12, and I joined him on the 24th in St. Louis.

On Friday we go to New Orleans for two nights, then to West Monroe, Louisiana to visit Larry's brother and family, and then to Texas for a few visits with friends.

Right now I'm reading a wonderful novel - A Novel Bookstore, by Laurence Cosse (that last "e" has an accent - anybody know how to get to symbols in blogspot?) Anyway, it is a wonderful story and I highly recommend it. The other thing I have to report on the reading front is that I bought a Kindle. I've subscribed to the New Yorker and am enjoying that access. It does all work very seamlessly. I haven't actually read a book yet, and that will be the real test. But, so far I'm impressed. It certainly is easier than carting around a pile of books while traveling - although there is a pile in the car!

That's all for today. More travel and reading observations tomorrow - really.

Back Again!

Well, it has been 9 weeks since I've written anything. I've been reminded about that more than once, so I'll do my best to write updates and all.

Today the summer program at Holden got going in full swing. We have a really good Teaching Staff so early in the summer, and the conversation should be lively indeed. Fred Niedner, who teaches theology at Valparaiso University is the Bible Study leader. This happens at 9 a.m. every morning Monday-Friday. He's very good, and today he got us thinking about biblical promises. The summer theme is All the Promises of God. He came up with a really good phrase:"the grammar of promise," which already appeared in Carol Hinderlie's excellent Vespers this evening.

We're into the summer worship schedule as well, with everything in the Village Center and a start time of 7:30 p.m., a half hour later than Fall-Winter-Spring. It makes for a late night, especially when there's a session after Vespers. Tonight David Wee, a retired St. Olaf College English professor, simply read poems by Billy Collins. They are wonderful and hilarious, and we had a great time listening. Today we also had sessions on American movies with Sam Graber who teaches American Studies at Valparaiso, and Melissa McBain who teaches theater and English at Augustana College in Rock Island, Illinois. After dinner there was a writing workshop with poet Rebecca Wee, who also teaches at Augustana Rock Island, and is the daughter of David Wee. They are all very good, and it's hard to have to work and try to dash in and hear a whole session or even part of one. It's handy that our offices are right off the Koinonia balcony, as we can just slip in and out when we have a chance. We all try to go to the sessions, as it encourages the whole conversation of the Village.

For those of you following the ankle drama, things are really improving. Just in the last couple of days I've noticed a pretty significant change for the better. I've abandoned my hiking boots for trainers, and that seems to be going pretty well. This week I hope to get in some walks on the road to increase my exercise regime. It's still a long haul, but I'm encouraged each day.

I have been reading mostly mysteries (what a shock) especially because some new volumes from favorite authors appeared. Alexander McCall Smith's The Double Comfort Safari Club is really good, following new adventures of Precious Ramotswe and company. I really enjoy his gentle prose. There was one thing missing in this book. In each of the previous books, there is a little word picture that appears either on a front or back page. It looks like this:

africa

africa africa

africa africa africa

africa africa

africa

I've always enjoyed that, particularly after traveling to Tanzania. But it's not in this one. I discovered that his website has an actual pathway to ask him questions. I asked this about a month ago and have yet to receive an answer. I'll try again.

I read the latest Laurie King Mary Russell/Sherlock Holmes book, The God of the Hive. It's a sequel to The Language of Bees. They are both very good, but you need to read them both in order. She's done an excellent job of creating this female counterpart to Sherlock Holmes.

I just finished the latest Elizabeth George, This Body of Death. At 726 pages, it's quite a tome. I have enjoyed these Inspector Lynley books from the beginning, but I think her usual adept characterizations failed in this one. Lynley seems a bit out of pattern in his choices, and some of the development of a new female officer doesn't ring quite true for me. But it is, as always, a great plot, and, when you come to the end, the title from Romans 7:24 is dead on. (So to speak.)

So there you have it for tonight. Now I get to go pick a new book to read. Yippee!

Wednesday Books

Well, the blog is back. I'm calling this Wednesday Books - plural - because I've had a lot of reading time over the last five weeks. On the morning of February 17 - Ash Wednesday - I stepped on some ice on the Chalet Hill outside our place. My left leg shot out at 60 mph, bringing my right ankle under and in. Although we did not know this until later in the day at the Lake Chelan Community Hospital when doctors and x-rays got involved, I badly broke my right ankle. I had 3.5 hours of surgery the next afternoon, and I now have 14 titanium screws and a plate in that ankle. So the last five weeks - and more weeks to come - have been about trauma, surgery, and ankle recovery. Finally this week I am feeling normal - with my ankle in a big cast. I cannot put any weight on it, so I get around in our apartment on a nifty wheeled "crutch substitute," as it's called it the medical world. They take me down the hill in a 1950's snow vehicle called the Imp (its real vehicle name - not a Holden nickname!). Until Tuesday, I was only going down on Sunday afternoons for dinner and church. Yesterday I spent all afternoon through dinner in the Village, getting up and down stairs with muscle (mine) and help, and with the assistance of a nifty stair-climber one of the carpenters made. So things are improving, but it is a long haul. Larry is fabulous in every regard with all this. I call him St. Larry.

So I've been reading lots of books. I finished Wolf Hall by Hilary Mantel (spoken of with reverence in previous blogs) and it is indeed stunning from beginning to end. I read In the Eye of the Sun by Ahdaf Soueif, which was the March selection of the Faith Women's Book Group which paid a lovely visit up here the first weekend of the month. I liked the novel very much, especially in its look into the cultural struggles of educated Egyptian women in the 1970's. Then I read the latest Karin Fossum, a Norwegian mystery writer. Her detective is Inspecter Sejer. This one is titled The Water's Edge. They all make you wonder about the effect of dark nights and deep fjords, but she's good at her craft, and the translations are excellent. I read Laurie King's The Language of Bees, the latest in her Sherlock Holmes and Mary Russell series. I've enjoyed this series all along. I think she has convincingly found a female partner for Sherlock. She nicely weaves in Conan Doyle's character threads and Holmesian history to make it all compelling and believable. And she writes well. And now I have just finished catching up on The #1 Ladies Detective Agency books by Alexander McCall Smith - I read five in a row! They are good. They are all the same length (about 200 pages) and his writing style is such that you just whip through them. But it's nice writing, and the musings and humor make them highly enjoyable reads. Today I started a novel called The Beach Street Knitting Society and Yarn Club by Gil McNeil. Seems pretty good so far - a nice story line that should be interesting, interlinking generations in a small English town along with some very high-flying journalistic types.

In the meantime there is Holy Week and Easter. They are well in hand. Just have to get down there to get it all organized! Holden is a great place for help in time of need, and I am very grateful for that.

That's all for this Wednesday. Now that I have some energy and focus back, I may blog more often. (I know, I know, I've said that before...)

Wednesday Book on Thursday

Lots of people in the Village are trying to finish The Brothers Karamozov in time for the discussions we'll have this weekend on the book. Doug Thorpe, who teaches English at SPU, will be here to lead those discussions. Doug, a member at St. Mark's Cathedral, is a long-time Holden person, most recently a regular on the Teaching Staff. There are few Spark notes around, and yesterday Carol Hinderlie downloaded the Wikipedia synopsis! It is a long book, but what a good one! I read it 35+ years ago, and I don't remember enjoying it so much. This is a newer translation - 1999 - which received rave reviews as making Dostoevsky's style really come out in English. So maybe that's the whole thing. But it is a great book. I'm especially impressed with the dialog. He is clearly one of those authors - Iris Murdoch being another - who can write pages of conversation and you never lose track of who is talking. Amazing.

Some non-book notes: it's been snowing today, which will be nice for all the people coming in for the week-end and for next week. The Village will more than double in size. It will put quite a strain on the power supply, so we're all cutting back on any unnecessary electrical use - even more than we've cut back already. It's very interesting to live so close to all the things that make our little town work. In the city, the sweep in so broad you lose track of the infrastructure. Here, it's part of your dinner conversation!

Back to the vile Karamozov and his screwy sons!