allthepage

I resisted readin Alice Sebold’s The Lovely Bones for quite awhile after it came out because a book about a dead child in heaven was really not appealing, despite the rave reviews and recommendations from friends. I’m really stubborn like that about some books and almost always regret it eventually (The Red Tent being a notable exception). I loved The Lovely Bones, and will always remember it as the book I was reading when I had my only “dine & dash” experience, after waiting over 30 minutes for a server to a) clear my plate, b) bring a check, c) offer to refill my beverage or d) acknowledge my existence on the planet by promising to do any of the above sometime soon. But I digress…

The Almost Moon is a very different experience of death in a family, and a most unusual murder. It is the story of a difficult mother-daughter relationship that takes a terrible turn, and the gruesome aftermath. It is emotionally intense, raw, and, I would venture, disturbing to many. One friend of mine decided it just wasn’t the sort of reading experience she chose to have. Personally, I thought it was well written and deserved the praise it received, but I can’t say that I exactly enjoyed it. Appreciated it, would be a more appropriate assessment.

Churched is a pleasant little mini memoir from Matthew Paul Turner about his experiences as a child growing up surrounded by Baptist fundamentalists, at home, at school, and three times a week for church services and Sunday school. He writes about the importance of Jesus and hell in his young life, very clear boundaries within which he could operate that, although he later rejected fundamentalism, seem to have provided a measure of safety and security at the time. His parents may have been extreme in their religious beliefs by many standards, but by Turner’s account were loving, supportive, and present in their children’s lives. The stories are sweet and quirky, easily read in a day. Those readers who are outraged at the very hint of fundamentalism will no doubt be appalled, but if one sets aside that general bias, there isn’t anything shocking or bizarre here. Despite the cover copy, I found no “holy mess,” nothing “bizarre” and laughed out loud when I saw the caption “He spent his childhood trapped within the confines of countless bizarre, strict rules. And lived to tell about it.” Seriously. The man moved to Nashville and made a career writing about Jesus–I think he’s recovered!

Again, scooping the Times Book Review (delusions of grandeur being half the fun of blogging), Michael Greenberg’s Hurry Down Sunshine is reviewed this week. The following is an excerpt:

“On July 5, 1996, my daughter was struck mad. She was fifteen and her crack-up marked a turning point in both our lives. ‘I feel like I’m traveling and traveling with nowhere to go back to,’ she said in a burst of lucidity while hurtling away toward some place I could not dream of or imagine. I wanted to grab her and bring her back, but there was no turning back.”  

For more of my take on the book, refer to the post called “Bipolar Mania Continues” in the July 2008 Archives at right.

I just read that a movie of The Secret Life of Bees (Sue Monk Kidd) has been made. I fell in love with that book when I read it, as did everyone I gave it to. I would have to read it again to begin to remember the story, but I don’t want to do that, and then see the film, which will no doubt pale in comparison. Nonetheless, it was a film project seven years in development and has what sounds like a tremendous cast, including Jennifer Hudson, Queen Latifah, and Dakota Fanning. There is already a paperback out with the cast on the cover. I found Kidd’s second novel, The Mermaid Chair, to be a huge disappointment, but she does a lot of spiritual writing, and I have yet to sample that aspect of her work. The movie hits theaters in October.

More wisdom from The Soul of Money by Lynne Twist, which began with the previous post:

“Money flows through all our lives, sometimes like a rushing river, and sometimes like a trickle. When it is flowing, it can purify, cleanse, create growth, and nourish. But when it is blocked or held too long, it can grow stagnant and toxic to those withholding or hoarding it.

Like water, money is a carrier. It can carry blessed energy, possibility, and intention, or it can carry control, domination, and guilt. It can be a current or a currency of love–a conduit for commitment–or a carrier of hurt or harm. We can be flooded with money and drown in its excess, and when we dam it up unnecessarily, we keep it out of circulation to the detrimant of others.”

Twist goes on to point out that Mother Teresa, whom she idolized and eventually visited, kept no cash reserves, and that “her method of fund-raising was to pray, and that God had always provided what she needed…” Mother Teresa operated more than 400 centers in 102  countries with “just enough.” Twist does not suggest that everyone operate without cash reserve, just to be aware that money, like every aspect of life, carries positive or negative energy.

With that in mind, she asks some interesting questions:

“Do you know the flow of money in your life? Are you mindful of how it comes to you? Are you consciously allocating where you want your money to go? When you can see the way money flows through your life, it gives you power to see where you are in your relationship with it and where you want to go with it….

The way money flows to you and through you to other purposes isn’t unrelated to your life. Does your money come to you through work, relationships, or perhaps existing wealth that carries the energy of nourishing generative commitments and values? Or does it come to you through work or relationships that deplete or exploit you, other people, or the environment? An unhealthy relationship with the way you acquire money is something that can suppress your life. The way we earn it and the way we spend it have an effect. It matters.”

If this has your attention, I recommend the picking up a copy of the book and one of those new highlighter/Post-it combo pens. And may we all improve our money karma…

I began reading The Soul of Money when a chapter was handed out for a reading at work. I don’t read a lot of what I would classify as “self-help” books, but money is an issue everywhere right now–in my life, in my clients’ lives, in my work, in the situation of the economy in general–and I decided to forge ahead and see what inspiration I might be able to take from a book that offered a non-traditional perspective on the role of money in the world and our individual lives. As much as I admit to still struggling with non-fiction, Lynne Twist has very powerful insights, ideas, and experiences to share, so much so that I decided to share them as I went along, figuring I’m not the only one who may benefit from some positive inspiration about money right now.

Lynne Twist has is quick to point out that she is not an economist, banker or investment advisor, and holds no degree in finance. Her education has come through practical experience, with four decades “of fund-raising and work on four major global initiatives: to end world hunger; to protect the rain forest; to improve health, economic, and political conditions for women; and to advance the scientific understanding of human consciousness.” For more than twenty years, she worked as an executive of The Hunger Project, an experience from which she draws much of the material for this book. She describes the book as follows:

“This book is entitled The Soul of Money, but it is really about our own soul and how and why we often eclipse it, dismiss it, or compromise it in our relationship with money: the way we get money, use money, give money, and or sometimes just try to avoid thinking about money. This book is about finding a new freedom, truth, and joy in our relationship with money, this strange, troubled, and wonderful part of our lives. And it is about awakening and using the unexamined portal of our relationship with money to deliver a widespread transformation in all aspects of our life. Ultimately, this book is a pathway to personal and financial freedom.”

I’m all for that. But cautiously optimistic. Next: Money is Like Water

You read it here first–didn’t you? This week’s NY Times Book Review reviewed two books that had been discussed already in this blog: Sweetheart by Chelsea Cain and Goldengrove by Francine Prose. The reviewer seemed to share my sentiments about Sweetheart; I didn’t read the write up on the other. Allthepage is so cutting edge, people–spread the word!

Perhaps Oprah has been checking in here as well (hey, a girl can dream, can’t she?) because she has, much to my delight, chosen a book by a first time author as her latest book club selection. You may recall that I ranted a few weeks ago about my extreme disappointment in her choice of classic, has-been best sellers to tout when there are so many unsung literary heroes to sing out about. Probably just coincidence, but she has announced Edgar Sawtelle as her new reading pick, and by association, author David Wroblewski for the leap from obscurity to superstardom. I haven’t read the book, which has already spent weeks on the NY Times list, but I have had it on my Amazon Wish List since it first came out. Act quickly if you want a copy without the Oprah logo. Wroblewski appeared via “Skype” on Oprah Friday looking dazed and nervous about his new fame. He spent ten years working on the book while working as a software developer in Colorado, just the sort of writer I like to see find success. Score!

I purchased a remainder copy online of Lisa Carey’s Love in the Asylum–I think it’s out of print–after I read and reviewed her fourth novel, Every Visible Thing (see earlier post). That book is about siblings whose older brother had gone missing and the fallout that had occurred in the family. I really liked Carey’s style, lyrical, but simple. Love in the Asylum is very different, but I, personally, liked it even more. I am biased, and those who know my blogging will know it right away: the main characters in the novel are an addict and a mentally ill writer, the sort of people who abound in my own life and work, and for whom I have special fondness and interest. The subject matter, therefore, already had me, but that wouldn’t have helped the writing had it sucked, and it didn’t. There is also a copy of one of my favorite paintings, van Gogh’s blue bedroom with the little chairs…but that was just a coincidence; van Gogh is really done to death–no pun intended–in books about the mentally ill.

Simply put, Love in the Asylum is about Alba and Oscar, two adults receiving different sorts of services who meet in an inpatient setting and are drawn to each other, physically and intellectually. Physically is important, because when you’ve been shooting heroine awhile or taking serious cocktails of psych meds for awhile, those sensations are often a distant memory. The third, and most intriguing element of the story is a series of letters that Alba discovers while working in the hospital library. The letters date back to the early 20th century, and are written on the blank back pages of obscure nature books, obviously never delivered. Alba, for complicated reasons of her own that come into play, wants these letters delivered to their rightful recipient; Oscar wants to be her Knight in Shining Armor. I loved this book!Sadly, as I said, I believe it may be out of print, but I found it quite cheap and in great condition. Might be available at a decent library as well. Still two more Lisa Carey books to procure… 

I last saw Garrison Keillor seven years ago, almost exactly. I don’t remember the date, but it was just after 9/11. He had been in Manhattan and during his talk told stories of being nearby during the tragic events of that day. I was there, at a bookstore in Marin County, to interview Keillor on behalf of my local NPR station, which, naturally, carried–and still carries–”A Prairie Home Companion.” A sum total of thirty or forty minutes of the show over the course of years was my working knowledge of the guy, along with the fact that he had published a number of books, mostly set in the fictitious town where the radio show took place. Keillor was in Marin to promote his latest effort, which I think was Lake Wobegon Summer 1956.Keillor was not going to be an easy interview, I knew this right away. I was pretty small-time in the industry, but I had interviewed some interesting people and found out some interesting stuff. I talked to the Crocodile Hunter, Steve Irwin about parenting, with my starstruck young son sitting next to him on the couch; I was privileged to have Amy Tan share the story of her miscarriage with me in her siting room in San Francisco. I was the recipient of Parker Posey’s favorite hand cream, despite an earlier tantrum that threatened to cancel out interview. Garrison Keillor I couldn’t get to stand still long enough to shake hands. Harumph. He was, however, a most engaging speaker, extremely intelligent, and possessed of a dry, often self-effacing wit. He spoke with compassion and sincerity about the events of 9/11 without exploiting the subject or becoming maudlin. It was a deservedly packed house. Afterward, a clerk and I chased him until he was forced to acknowledge that he had committed to an interview with me, which he grudgingly acquiesced to, and then, as far as I know, disappeared into the night. The piece aired, but it was not one of my best. I took an autographed copy of the book home to read–no advanced freebie, no sir–and could not get past the second chapter. Lake Wobegon is apparently not my kind of town. The writing was so…..I gotta say it, insipid!

I mention this bygone event because I saw Garrison Keillor give a talk today, on tour for another book–17 he’s published now! The new one, out yesterday, is Liberty, another Lake Wobegon tale. For those of you who are or might be fans, it is described by the publisher thusly:

“Clint Bunsen is one of the old reliables in Lake Wobegon— the treasurer of the Lutheran church and the auto mechanic who starts your car on below-zero mornings. For six years he has run the Fourth of July parade, turning what was once a line of pickup trucks and girls pushing baby carriages that hold their cats into an event of dazzling spectacle. Blazing bands, marching units, cannons, horses, a fireworks show, and the famous Living Flag—one thousand men and women wearing red, white, or blue, standing in formation—have attracted the attention of CNN and prompted the governor to put in an appearance as well. The town is dizzy with anticipation. Until, that is, they hear of Clint’s ambition to run for Congress. They’re embarrassed for him. They know him too well—his unfortunate episodes involving vodka sours, his rocky marriage. And then there is his friendship, or whatever it is, with the twenty-four-year-old girl who dresses up as the Statue of Liberty for the parade. It’s rumored that underneath those robes she is buck naked, and that her torch contains a quart of booze.”

I will not not read Liberty, and it’s okay if you do. But, once again Garrison Keillor was entertaining as hell at the podium. Even as he read excerpts from this book about an auto mechanic who discovers that he is Hispanic at the age of 60 and writes horrible lyrics (Keillor sang these ditties for us), and I knew that if I had the book and tried to read it I wouldn’t be able to stand it, he was entertaining. Prior to dragging out the book, he read sonnets–sonnets, I say! He regaled us with silly sonnets, and then shocked us with sexy sonnets about a woman he was in love with that he used to visit in San Francisco and write sonnets for. And sing them over the phone to. Who is this guy??? And how do you get one? And if you got one, would you have to read his books or would he allow you to live on the sonnets alone? And isn’t it just like me to forget that I just finished saying that he was annoying the minute he walked off the stage…Sheesh!

Anywayyy…I guess the whole point of this, if there is one, is to say, that, while you can’t judge a book by its cover, perhaps you can’t judge an author by his book. Garrison Keillor is not the first writer I’ve found who I’ve enjoyed listening to talk about the process or the product or simply their life experience, despite being less than enthralled with their subject matter or writing style. If you’re a reader or a writer, never pass up a chance to hear an author, there’s almost always something to gain from the experience, even if you don’t buy the book on the way out.  

It seems that the more interesting are always the ones to die. Or that’s how it seems to the ones left behind with too many hours to ponder the too short life of their brother or sister when their parents retreat into memory boxes of their own. In Goldengrove, a new novel by Francine Prose, Margaret is the interesting sister who loves old movies, dresses in vintage clothing, blows smoke rings, and sings with the voice of a permiscuous angel. Her younger sister, Nico, is slightly in awe of her, as they spend one last summer together before Margaret slips off to college and creates a life of her own. It is a plan that never comes to fruition. Early in the summer, the two girls drift in a boat on the lake, and Margaret decides to take a swim, one of a thousand swims in the lake they can see from the window of their home. She dives in, but never resurfaces on her own.

There are some expected elements to the story–mom that turns to pain pills, dad withdraws into work–but a couple of unexpected relationships that give it a bit of a twist, and keep things fresh. I have to say that, after having read afew other books about missing or dead siblings this summer (that just sounds weird…) I was a little relieved on some level that Nico didn’t become a drug addict or cutter–OOPS, SPOILER!!

Goldengrove–the title is the name of the father’s bookstore (yes, he owns a bookstore!!) and also a reference from a poem–is also likely to be appreciated by older teens, a bit of a coming of age story, and not too maudlin, despite the subject matter.

Walking Through Walls is Philip Smith’s memoir of his father, Lewis Smith, who, at first introduction, is a chic, in-demand interior designer in Miami in the 1950’s. His clients included celebrities, socialites and, if memory serves, a couple of foreign dictators, one of whom held him hostage until the work was completed.  This alone would have been sufficient fodder for an entertaining memoir, but there was much more to Lew Smith than met the eye. What began as an interest in macrobiotics, health food, and ancient religions, bloomed–to the great surprise of his family–into an ability to communicate with the universe. Lew Smith was a psychic healer. He began by laying on hands, and eventually communicated with spirits, performed exorcisms, and did all kinds of other stuff that frankly I have a reeeeally hard time believing. In fact, had the book not been so engaging, so heartfelt and funny, I would probably not have finished it. But it was, and so I basically just decided to suspend my disbelief and proceed as if Philip Smith’s father was no more incredible than an alcoholic or schizophrenic or any other dysfunctional dad of memoir material. With that qualification, I have to say, I enjoyed it a lot. It was described on the jacket as “Running with Scissors meets Bewitched.” The TV witch reference seems a little over the top, even for a skeptic like me, but the Augusten Burroughs comparison is pretty apt.

Here’s an excerpt:

“‘My, aren’t you a cutie!’ She leaned closer to me and took a drag off her cigarette. As she exhaled, her ample sunburnt breasts, spilling out of her black fishnet one-piece, bobbed up and down against my face. Dressed in my blue blazer, bow tie, khaki shorts, and freshly shined Buster Browns, I was, at six years old, an irresistible magnet for drunken middle-aged women looking for love. Mom always insisted that if I were going to sit at the bar and drink that I at least be well dressed.”

Philip Smith is an artist and writer who lives in New York and Miami.