Don't mess with (football in) Texas

When I talk with friends about Friday Night Lights (TV version), their reaction is always the same, to the tune of "why would you want to watch a show about high school football in Texas?"  I have no particular affinity for high school, football, or Texas, but the series, based on H.G. Bissinger's book, is outstanding.  It's shot in a gritty way that feels almost like a documentary.  The acting is top-notch.


Being a huge fan of the show, I was curious about the book.  Pulitzer Prize-winning journalist H.G. Bissinger spent 1998 immersed in the football season at Permian High School in Odessa, Texas.  His book follows the team through the tremendous ups and downs of that year.  While I didn't think Bissinger's writing was as dynamic as I had hoped, he does go beyond writing about the players and the focus on "going to State," and in doing so, paints a picture of life in a small town affected by the boom and bust of the oil industry.  Bissinger focuses on tense race relations and school integration in Texas, as well as the way in which football was much more of a focus than academics at the school.  Both of these topics were ones he was later criticized for exposing in his book.  


What Bissinger does best is convey how football affects all parts of life in Odessa - politics, home life, career choices, and local tradition and how this all-encompassing love for and loyalty to football makes a group of teenage boys godlike for a season or two, and then become largely forgotten once they are injured or graduate.  Friday Night Lights offers a glimpse into what it would mean to grow up in a town defined by one thing.  I'll admit that after reading the book, it did have me curious about what it would have been like to be under those Friday night lights, cheering for those seemingly invincible kids that had the weight of the whole town on their shoulders.

Green Apple Books: Worth Biting Into

This weekend I went on a long jaunt out to the Richmond in San Francisco to visit Green Apple Books, an independent bookstore that has been around since 1967.  The store has both an annex featuring used and new fiction, and a main bookstore.  Having walked to the outer lands of SF with the fog rolling in and the wind picking up, I had high hopes of a warm, inviting, cozy space in which to warm up and browse.  


While unassuming from the outside, I came under Green Apple's spell as soon as I set foot inside.  What I found inside were hardwood floors, warm lighting, lots of handwritten recommendations, and a playful atmosphere.  I wandered into the "red delicious room" and spotted the rather intimidating  "shoplifters will be nailed" sign.  I particularly liked their unique shelving categories which included such delightful sections as "big fat reads," "the bicycle," and" just because you're old and unhappy doesn't mean you can't read children's books."  The store was abundant and bountiful, a place to get lost in for hours.  It reminded me of Elliot Bay Books in Seattle.  The only downsides were that there was nowhere to sit and the staff were not as friendly as they could have been.


To me, the mark of a good bookstore is one that humbles me.  One that reminds me of the endless number of books I have yet to read.  I can't wait to go back!

Parrado's Perspective: Miracle in the Andes

Miracle in the Andes is by far the best account I've read or seen of the tragic airplane crash in the Andes in 1972, in which 16 members of a Uruguayan rugby team survived for 72 days in one of the harshest climates in the world.  With hardly any food, warm clothing, or medical supplies, the survivors of the crash battled nearly impossible circumstances.  As the number of deaths increased due to the cold and injuries, and once the survivors heard on a radio that the search for them had been called off, it became clear that someone would need to climb out of the mountains if any of them were to survive.  Nando Parrado, 34 years later, tells the story of the crash and of his journey out of the mountains.  Parrado and his friend Roberto Canessa made the 12 day trek, with little food and a sleeping bag made out of insulation from the plane.  


What is most fascinating about this book is the way in which Parrado describes how the survivors dealt with this trial.  Parrado recalls a moment in which he wants to cry for the death of his mother and sister who died in the crash.  He realized that to cry would be to lose essential fluid that he would need in the days to come.  His survival instinct kicked in immediately.  Yet, he later describes  a moment when all he could think of was to run off into the blinding snow and be left to die.  He writes about how as more and more of the crash survivors passed away, those who remained were terrified by the thought of being the last survivor, left to die alone amidst the stillness and silence of the Andes.  


This is a book I couldn't put down.  The vulnerability Parrado exhibits in writing about his love for his father as the driving force keeping him alive, as well as the humility and honesty of his writing make this a book not to be missed.  For weeks after reading this eloquent autobiography, and still now as I write this, I think about how if any story proves to us the possibility of human triumph over unimaginable odds, it is this one.  

(Auster)ity

  

By page 1, I was irritated by the obscure literary references and seemingly pretentious writing.  By page 3, I could not put Invisible down.  This was my first foray into Auster's world, and it reminded me in a certain sense of Carlos Ruiz Zafon's Angel's Game.  Both books tell the story of a young writer brimming with promise who is unexpectedly sought out by a mysterious supposed benefactor.  Things quickly go awry and spin out of control.  Invisible is absorbing, shocking, disturbing even.  I didn't feel particularly fond of his characters, but I was intrigued enough by the plot to read this book in two sittings.  While this adds another tick mark on the list of depressing books I've read this year, I'll be reading more Auster very soon.  The writing is simple and straightforward - Auster picks every word carefully, creating a sparse but palpable read.

Jim Crow Era: Fiction and Non-fiction

I recently read these two books back to back because they just happened to come in the same time on my "hold" list at the library.  Both books are based on events that took place during the Jim Crow era, though The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks also interweaves current day events as we come to know the Lacks family.  

I was curious about The Help, having heard good things about it but also being wary of any book jacket telling me that I will need a "hankie."  Author Kathryn Stockett tells the story through three female characters - two African American women who work were domestic workers, and one young white woman who becomes interested in their lives.  As I read this novel, I felt immersed in the South in 1962 and the lives of all three of these women.  For me, the book had a breezy feel to it, despite being about such a serious topic as racial injustice.  Other than this contrast which I found a bit unsettling, I applaud Stockett's effort.

The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks is about science, bioethics, and the controversy over who owns elements of our body once they are taken from us.  Henrietta Lacks was an African American woman who died in 1951 from cervical cancer.  Unbeknownst to Lacks, a tissue sample was taken from her at Johns Hopkins University, and her cells became the first to live and grow outside of the human body.  Her cells became known as HeLa, and have been highly influential in cancer research and medical advances.  The Lacks family did not find out about Henrietta's cells being used for science until nearly 20 years later.  Interested in finding out about the DNA of Henrietta's ancenstors, doctors at Johns Hopkins contacted the Lacks family and then did research on them without informed consent.  As the family comes to know author Rebecca Skloot, we experience alongside them their wrestling with who to trust and how to feel about their mother's/grandmother's cells being taken without her knowledge.  Despite HeLa cells being worth millions of dollars, the Lacks family has never received any compensation, and ironically, many members of the family do not have health care.  I don't often read non-fiction books focused on science, but this was a fascinating read in which I learned a great deal about the history of experimentation on African Americans, biology, law and ethics.

Chilean Whimsy

  

I lived in Chile for a year, and during that time, I was able to visit all three of Pablo Neruda's homes - in Santiago, Valparaiso, and Isla Negra.  I've posted some photos above from my time in Valparaiso, an UNESCO World Heritage city known for its many hills, old wooden elevators, and colorful, cobblestoned streets.  An eccentric, rough and tumble port city, it is one of the most unique and memorable places I've ever been.


Neruda's houses (now museums), are quirky and whimsical, designed to have a nautical feel.  As he traveled throughout Africa, Asia and Europe, Neruda collected a variety of objects including keys, bottles, clocks, sea glass, and nautical instruments.  These objects may seem mundane to us, but they were treasures to Neruda.


What shaped Neruda as a child, before becoming one of the world's most beloved poets? The tender, honest, and sophisticated new novel The Dreamer, written by Pam Munoz Ryan and illustrated by Peter Sis, provides insight into Neruda's early fascination with objects in his daily life.  Called absentminded and a daydreamer by his domineering father, Neruda was drawn to poetry from an early age.   Born Neftali Reyes, he changed his name to Pablo Neruda just before starting college in Santiago.  The Dreamer captures the struggle between doing what one loves, and following the expectations our parents put upon us.  You'll likely pick it up and not put it down until you are done (about an hour or two)!  While the library has categorized The Dreamer as "juvenile fiction," both young readers and adults alike would likely enjoy this fictionalized account of Pablo Neruda's childhood.

Two of the best books I've read in 2010 (and two appendages lost)

 

Bloodroot and Little Bee are, hands down, the best books I've read in 2010 thus far.  Strangely enough, they have an odd detail in common - in both books, one appendage from a main character is lost, and in a sense, it is these acts of violence that  set the stories in motion, even though the mysteries of how these appendages are lost are slow to unravel.  There are some brutal scenes in each of these books, but if you can stomach it, these are too good to miss.

Bloodroot, Amy Greene's debut novel, is a multigenerational saga set in Appalachia.  I read so many books that I often forget plot lines or the names of characters, but I doubt I'll ever forget Myra and Johnny Odom.  The story is told, quite convincingly, from the perspective of several different characters.  The book almost feels like reading magical realism.  This is stunning, haunting storytelling at its best.

Little Bee, Chris Cleave's second novel, tells the story of how the lives of a British woman and a Nigerian girl become intertwined as a result of a horrific encounter.  It is a dark story, though infused with humor.  The characters are well-developed, and Little Bee is unforgettable.  I was blown away.

Well-read, well-worn

Out of Print Clothing, a venture created by Todd Lawton and Jeffrey LeBlanc, is where you can go to find t-shirts featuring vintage, out-of-print cover art from classic works of literature.  

For every purchase, a book goes to the non-profit Books for Africa.

Out of Print Clothing

Books for Africa

Charming bookstores in unexpected places

Below is a link to an article in The New York Times entitled "As American as Cherry Pie," by Ann Patchett, recounting her visit to do a reading in Petoskey, Michigan that she initially begrudged though she ended up being charmed by the town and particularly the independent bookstore there (McLean and Eakin, pictured above).   

Where have you stumbled upon a great bookstore where you least expected it?

"As American As Cherry Pie" - Ann Patchett

"The best time to plant a tree is twenty years ago, the second best time is now." - African proverb

Somewhere in Eastern Washington

This blog is an attempt to infuse intentionality into my experience as a reader, and to share this important part of my life with others.  I've been a voracious reader for over 20 years.  It is high time to lay down some literary roots.  

Every day, I try to carve out time to read so as to slowly chip away at my ever-growing list of books to read or to re-read.  When I travel, one of the first places I try to find is the local, independent bookstore.  As I walk home from work these days, right past the public library, I have to stop myself from visiting each day and checking out more books than I could possibly read in a three week period (3 times a week maximum)!  


My love for books is only equaled by my appreciation for chocolate, Argentina, Otis Redding, and a handful of human beings (and one mischievous cat).  Reading has been one of the cornerstones of my life, and has altered and shaped my very foundation.  Through this medium, I have caught glimpses of life in times or realms I never thought I would see, and I've been privy to the inner lives and emotions of some haunting and unforgettable fictional characters and real people I haven't been fortunate (or unfortunate) enough to meet.  


I look forward, via this blog, to sharing my ruminations, recommendations, and resources about all things literary.  I await your comments and ideas.