Posted in Book Review, Books

TRUE GRIT, by Charles Portis

True Grit by Charles PortisA truly delightful and entertaining book. This adventurous tale of fourteen year old Mattie Ross and her single-minded pursuit to avenge the death of her father is one for the ages and for all ages of readers. On one level, there is a simple straight-forward plot that tells a wonderful story. Yet, there is another level on which Portis offers up observations and commentaries on issues of morality, justice, and human nature. Most are subtly woven into the narrative or dialogue, often with a dry dead-pan humor that left me chuckling out loud. There are, however, a couple of overt passages where Mattie delivers a miniature Sunday School lesson complete with encouragement to look up certain Bible verses which back up her position or ideas.

Despite her pious notions of right and wrong, Mattie shows no compunction in her hiring of the meanest and less than up-standing U.S. Marshal around to accompany her on her trail of vengeance. Narrated and re-told by on older Mattie, the fourteen year old’s voice for the most part dominates the story, simultaneously revealing both a naivete appropriate to her age and wisdom beyond it. Written with language, setting, and characters true to its time and place, i.e. Arkansas and Indian Territory of a post-Civil War West, Portis artfully delivers on themes and issues that are relevant to any time and place.

First published in 1968, this book has since been made into a movie twice, first in 1969 and most recently in 2010. I have yet to see either one, and thus can offer no commentary on the merit of either one. They are both on my to be seen list, however, and I will certainly post an update when that task is complete.

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Posted in Book Review, Books

CALEB’S CROSSING by Geraldine Brooks

Caleb's Crossing by Geraldine BrooksBrooks once again takes a kernel of historical fact and uses it to unfold a compelling narrative. The kernel in this case is that in 1665 Caleb Cheeshahteaumauk became the first Native American to graduate from Harvard. The rest of the book, including Caleb’s friendship with Bethia, the novel’s narrator, flowers from the author’s story-tellying prowess. Caleb and Bethia forge their secret friendship prior to his joining her family’s household to receive educational and religious instruction from her minister father in the settlement of Great Harbor, known today as Martha’s Vineyard. Circumstances then allow her to accompany Caleb and her brother Makepeace to Cambridge where she is able to remain as a sisterly companion and confidant to the young Native American youth trying to make his way in a culture foreign to his upbringing.

It is through their interactions, discussions, and mostly Bethia’s innermost musings that Brooks examines the clash of culture, thought, and religious belief ever-present in the novel. Outwardly, Bethia perserveres in her Puritan rearing while inwardly questioning if the white settler’s ways are in fact superior in every aspect. Similarly, she also struggles within the confines of strict societal norms for women regarding education and the ability to make her own personal choices.

Brooks provides all the right elements for an engaging, wonderful reading experience. The setting is described in rich, illustrious detail, while a well paced plot provides pertinent revelations when and where they are best suited. In addition, she populates the novel with complex, multi-dimensional people who are believable, imperfect and thus fully humanized making them accessible for the reader to connect to. Her dedication to historical research shines through in her attention to detail, both in language and prevailing thoughts and beliefs of the period in question.

As with her other novels, one should not expect a mushy, feel-good story. There is plenty of pain, sorrow, and loss interspersed with moments of love, peace, and contentment. It is the embodiment of life’s journey in all of its trappings. Compelling and creative, Caleb’s Crossing is a journey worth taking.

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Posted in Book Review, Books

GIRL READING by Katie Ward

Girl Reading by Katie WardGirl Reading is an imaginative book that demands the attention of an imaginative reader. Spanning the centuries from 1333 to an imagined future of 2060, each self-contained (yet subtly inter-connected) story encapsulates a portrait or a picture of a girl or woman engaged in some fashion with a book or the act of reading. What, why, or even if they are actually reading the book plays a lesser part than the title suggests. Or, perhaps, plays a larger part than the reader may at first recognize. For that is the beauty and magic of this book.

Each story contains quite enough framework and materials for a sturdy, completely whole structure fully capable of standing tall on its own merit.  Yet, simultaneously they each posess the power to expand and open hidden crevices wherein the reader can pour in his or her own musings and suppositions.  While it may be true that any well-written book can do the same, Ward writes in such a way that I found this to be one of the most malleable reading experiences to date. What is said is remarkably rich in its own merit. But, what is not said and just ever so slightly alluded to is limitless.

Ward brings the power of visual art to the written page, with each story a canvas of innumerable interpretations and a narrative prose applied with poetic brush strokes. Connecting not just eras in time, but also diverse classes and stations in life, the filament that binds all these women together may at times seem tenuous, but is in fact ever present. They have nothing in common and yet they have everything in common.

If you are looking for a thought-provoking experience that poses more questions than answers regarding the human experience, this is the perfect book to settle into a quiet corner to engage with, not just read.

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Posted in Book Review, Books

PROPHECY- THE FULFILLMENT by Deborah A. Jaeger

A pregnant teenage girl, Jillian, claiming she’s still a virgin. Stephen, a student embarking on his PhD in Theology. Both experiencing odd vision-like dreams. Their lives intersect due to Jillian’s father being Stephen’s mentor in his graduate studies. Though Stephen initially recognizes Jillian as the girl from his vision, he keeps quiet. Later, they both realize and acknowledge that their dreams have been separately preparing the two of them for a shared purpose. Throw in a spate of miraculous healings whose source is traced back to Jillian’s amniotic fluid, and you have the story line of Prophecy – The Fulfillment by Deborah A. Jaeger.

I truly wanted to like this book. I thought the premise of exploring a modern day reaction to a Mary and Joseph scenario would be quite intriguing. And it was to some degree. I think the book posed and attempted to answer what some of the questions and implications of the intersection of current science, religious understanding, and even politics to such an event would be. In this regards, it achieved a certain level of admirable success in exploring issues of faith, doubt, and the gritty details of how people react when their realities are shaken. The fact the book prodded me towards my own self-reflection in this regards gives it a measure of worth. I imagine most, if not all, thoughtful readers would be prodded in this direction as well.
With that said, however, I have to admit there were problems that kept me from fully embracing this book and putting it high on my recommendation list. Simply put, it lacked an editorial polish that could have really helped it shine. There were far too many trite phrases, unrealistic or stilted dialogue, and grammar issues to easily ignore. It read like a really good first or second draft that with a little work could be really great. I don’t pretend to be an expert editor in my own right, yet there were just too many sections that made me cringe that it unfortunately took away from an otherwise good story. My final complaint has to do with the ending, which just didn’t seem to mesh well with the rest of the story. With all the build-up, the narrative account of the actual fulfillment of the prophecy seemed forced, and way too anti-climactic.

To sum up: a decent story with some redeeming qualities, yet lacking finesse. I wouldn’t dissuade others from reading, yet do not feel compelled to actively encourage it either. I am open to trying other books by this author.

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Posted in Movie Review

2012 Movie Review

Okay, I know the movie has been out for two years so this review is not super relevant and timely.  However, if there are any of you out there who have not seen it, I beg of you to please find some other activity to waste two and a half hours of your life doing. Personally, I think my time would have been better spent sleeping in my recliner with drool dripping from my open mouth.  At least my dog Rusty would have been entertained. If you like enormous special effects and watching the world’s most historic monuments crumble into nothingness, then fine go ahead and watch this movie. If, instead, you prefer movies with some semblance of an original plot and something meaningful to say then please stay away.

The basic premise of the movie is that the predictions espoused by some that the Mayan calendar portents the end of the world in December of 2012 are proved to be real. The Earth’s core begins to over-heat causing major shifting in the tectonic plates and thus, literally upending the whole world.

I went into this movie expecting some predictability and some of your basic disaster movie sub-plots. Estranged family members trying to reconcile at the last moment. Heroic stands by those who can be saved but instead opt to go down with the ship. Impossible death-defying near misses. But, as a viewer I was insulted. A couple near misses are okay. Yes, I’ll suspend my hold on reality long enough to allow those to propel the story along and get my adrenaline pumping.  I cannot, however, be expected to watch 100 “by the skin of their teeth” saves in 30 minutes and still be on board with it.  Additionally, the one token scene where they attempt to answer the existential question of what is humanity and what does it mean to be civilized is just dripping with cheesiness.

It is possible to create a fast-action, special effects driven movie that also engages the viewer in a cerebral manner. Two that come to mind that I have seen recently are Salt and Inception. Perhaps, because I prefer reading to watching movies I expect something different from my viewing experience than hard core movie buffs. Yet, both must rely on plot and character development to be successful. The makers of 2012 seem to have forgotten that and hurriedly threw those two ingredients in the mix at the last moment.

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Posted in Book Review

MRS. DALLOWAY by Virginia Woolf

 A story about one day in the ordinary life of an ordinary woman planning a party in 1920s London.  Yet the novel is anything but plain and ordinary.  For the most part, the reader is carried along on a stream of consciousness that meanders from the title character’s mind and into and out of others that she either directly or indirectly comes into contact with during the day.  This makes for a challenging read because the tributaries of differing thought processes are not always clearly defined, and thus I often found myself attributing a particular musing to the wrong character and having to backtrack when it seemed too out of place.  Altough the events themselves occur on a single day in June, the narrative is not hindered by time or space.  Past events are recalled and ruminated upon as they relate to the particular individual’s situation at the time.

Woolf’s intent at the time was to create a piece of work that was different and that did not fit into the traditional model, which incidentally speaks to the type of person Woolf was in her own right in that she did not see herself as a traditional type of woman in her society.  In this aspect, she can claim success.  This book is best appreciated and understood when the time period of the events are kept in mind.  Coming on the heels of World War I, it speaks to the upheaval and uncertainty that many people felt at the time. At heart, Mrs. Dalloway and all those around her are grappling with the questions of self-discovery as they reflect on who they were in the past and who they are now in the present and how the answers to that will affect the future.

I cannot confidently at this time assess my overall opinion to this book.  I confess I struggled through it at times and probably would have abandoned it early on had I not had other factors spurring me on to do so.  One, is that I wanted to read it before re-reading The Hours by Michael Cunningham which was inspired by Mrs. Dalloway. Second, is that I have compiled several different lists of books to be read in the future and this was on one of these lists.  (I will explain these lists in in more detail in an upcoming post.)  So, despite my struggles, tempations to abandon, and the self-inflicted pressure of feeling I had to read the book, by the time I neared the final third of the book I was actually looking forward to picking it up as opposed to dreading it as if it were a chore. The book is deserving of a better effort from me as reader and the English major in me recognizes it as a treasure of gems wating to be mined more in depth than what I did at this point in time.  My second reading of The Hours did in fact ratchet up my own understanding and appreciation for the work. I hope at some point to return to it again and venture out with Clarissa Dalloway as she steps out to buy flowers for her party on a June day in London.

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Posted in Book Review

SPECIMEN DAYS by Michael Cunningham

Cunningham attempts to capture the spirit of Walt Whitmans’ work Leaves of Grass in this unique tripartite novel.  Inhabiting the past, present, and future, a separate but related cast of characters revolving around a man, woman, and youg boy exhibit Whitman’s idea that “every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you.”  Each story takes place in New York in different time periods.  The opening story is situated within the period of the Industrial Revolution and looks at humanity’s reaction to this new age of machines.  The middle story, set in the current era, presents a society still dealing with terrorist jitters and explores the dangers of impressionable minds exposed to an irrational group-think mentality.  The final futuristic setting comes full circle in that now we encounter a machine (in the form of a man) musing on the ways of humanity.

This is not a book for the passive reader wanting only to be entertained.  Instead, it demands active engagement.  Having only read through it once as of this writing, I remain intrigued by the work, yet undecided as to my satisfaction with it as a whole.  Parts of it were fascinating, yet others left me unsatisfied and scratching my head in wonder.  Whether that dis-satisfaction arises from the quality of the writing or my inability to connect certain dots is a question that can only be answered following a second reading.

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Posted in Personal Thoughts, Religion

My Waltz Lesson

Saturday night was spent with family and friends at a little place called Sims Barbecue which provides an all-you-can-eat buffet and a night of great bluegrass music complete with plenty of dancing space.  In between the band sessions, they play a few line dances and the ubiqitous Chicken Dance for the children.  Although, from my experience it seems that the adults enjoy the Chicken Dance way more than the children do.  They may say they are only out there showing the little ‘uns how it’s done, but I think that secretly they are just glad to have them for cover and as an excuse to look crazy.

I am not and have never been much of a dancer.  As a child, I quit dance lessons after one class.  It may have been because I saw pictures of other little girls in tutus and decided to get out before anyone decided to wrangle one of those things on me.  I shudder now, thinking how close I came to maybe wearing one of those things.  Subsequently, throughout my pre-teen and teen years I was exposed to short term dancing lessons in various forms.  I learned a little clogging and some square dancing moves along the way.  In my early twenties I danced a few line dances at times when out with friends.  However, by and large if there was a dance floor involved I was usually hugging the sidelines, not unhappily, watching other people dance.

When it comes to rhythm, I can spell it a hundred times better and with much more fluidity than I can produce it. Tending to the shy and introverted spectrum of human nature, I just find it difficult to free myself up to move around without constantly worrying about looking like an idiot.  I know I shouldn’t care about how I look because those on the sidelines watching probably are in the same boat I am and would empathize with me, and those on the dance floor are too busy enjoying themselves to care what kind of moves I have (or more truthfully, don’t have).

So, I was shocked at point to find myself out on the dance floor at one point dancing with a very pleasant and polite, unknown to me, older gentleman.  The band had struck up a waltz and I had pushed mom and dad out on the floor, knowing they can (and often do) dance together.  When first asked by the gentleman to dance I politely declined saying I wasn’t much of a dancer.  But, for some reason as soon as I said it, I felt like that was the wrong answer.  Even more, I felt like that was not the answer God wanted me to give.  So, I relented and told the man, if he would lead the way and show me what to do I would try it.

Was it a disaster?  Yes and No.  Yes, because I kept missing steps, especially when I would try to talk while I danced.  I’m just glad I wasn’t trying to chew a piece of gum as well, who knows what would have happened then.  No, because what did it matter that I kept missing steps? I didn’t hear anyone booing me off the dance floor.  I didn’t hear anyone saying you aren’t good enough to be out here.  I didn’t see anyone laughing and pointing at me.  Even if they had been, I was too focused on the task at hand to notice.  What I did hear is the voice of an experienced, older, wiser dancer calmly say “it’s okay”.  What I did see was his smile when he said it.  What I did feel was him gently taking the lead and helping me find my steps again.

Thank goodness I do not have to see a replay of that dance, because I know I would cringe.  I know it was far from pretty and graceful.  But it was fun and it was enjoyable.  And most important, I was reminded that I don’t have to be perfect at something to take part in it.  I don’t even have to be as good as those around me.  All I have to do is take a step off the sidelines and onto the dance floor and give it a whirl.  Life isn’t always pretty and graceful.  And my attempts to live out my Christian faith are not always pretty and graceful and I often get out of step.  Fortunately for me though, God is holding my hand and leading the dance.  If I focus hard enough on the task at hand I can ignore the naysayers and see and hear and feel only Him.  Smiling, saying “it’s okay,” and gently leading me back into the rhythm that He wants me to follow.

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Posted in Personal Thoughts, Sunday Reflections

A Cup of Coffee and a Cup of Grace

I enjoy starting off my day with a hot, bold cup of coffee.  It helps wake me up to the world around me and helps me be a little less grumpy throughout the day.  I said less, it does not always mean I won’t have a few grumpy edges.  Also, I love my Keurig single cup coffee maker that I got last year for Christmas.  By inserting a K-cup, which holds just enough coffee grounds for one cup of coffee, into the machine I receive a fresh serving of coffee each time.  No more pots of coffee languishing around growing stale and bitter at the Peeler household anymore.

Last Sunday morning, mom called while I was brewing my cup of coffee.  I noticed when I sat down at my desk that I could see through to the bottom of my black coffee cup.  I thought that was quite odd – usually black coffee in a black cup is not all that transparent.  I started investigating and realized that because of the distraction of talking on the phone I had not inserted a K-cup into the machine.  Now, all I had was a cup of hot sugar water.  Not exactly what I was hoping for and definitely not what I needed to wake me and prepare me for the day ahead.

Along with my cup of caffeine, I also try to start my mornings with a Bible reading and devotion.  I am ashamed to say I am not always as eager to approach this activity.  It’s not so much that I don’t want to do it, it is usually that so many other things are vying for my attention that I am often tempted to put the devotion on hold until later when I have a free moment.  But I have learned that if I don’t start my day with prayer and reflection that free moment never materializes.  There is always something else to do and that quiet time just keeps getting pushed down further on my daily agenda until the day finally runs out.

I have also learned that I pay a price when I allow that to happen.  Those days I am just like that hot cup of water – weak and  lacking in taste and boldness.  By taking a few moments at the start of the day to allow God to speak to me I am allowing him to insert his version of a K-cup into my heart and soul.  He gives me the grace and love I need for that day.  Not just for my needs but for those that I will encounter that day.  I cannot claim that even those days when I am faithful in my devotion time that I always make the right decisions, say the right things, or even share God’s love with those around me like I should.  But I am certainly more apt to do so.  I find it a little easier to be gracious to others because I started the day being reminded that there is one who loves me and who offers me grace for my shortcomings.

Whether or not you are a coffee drinker I suggest starting your day with prayer and reflection.  Drink fully and freely from the Cup of Grace that is offered to you.  Remember, the price has already been paid and there are free refills all day and everyday.

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Posted in Books, Personal Thoughts

List-o-mania

I’m not sure where it comes from, because I don’t think anyone else in my immediate family suffers from this like I do.  Perhaps another reason to suspect the stork dropped me off at the wrong house, but that is another subject for another day.  Back to my near-manic obsession to categorize and list things.

This has come to light because of my recent work compiling and updating my Reading Lists.  As I combed through the reading lists I knew there should be more books on some of the lists and the problem became how do I recall the lost ones.  The answer: make a list of my favorite authors and then from that list make lists of the books they have written so I can check which have been recorded and which have not.  There was a little anxiety there because even if I recall that I have read the book, I know I can’t recall what year I read the book.  So after a couple of little sit-down discussions with myself I realized that I could deal with having a list of books categorized by the decade in which they had been read, such as the 1980s and 1990s.  Imperfect, but I can now cope with that.

So now, you see the problem I am faced with – one list branches off and creates an unending amount of other lists that must be created to support and finish the first one.  And that is just the list of books already read, there also exists lists of books I want to read in the future.  Is that one I have had my eye on a part of a series?  If so, is it book 1 or book 2?  How will I know?  I’ve got it – I’ll make a list.  For some reason, there is a part of me (perhaps an English major’s curse) that is curious to know how many Pulitzer Prize winning books I have read in my life. You can see where this is going – another list.

And all this is just the tip of the iceberg.  So far I’ve only mentioned books, of course I also own CDs, DVDs, PlayStation games, baseball cards, football cards, all in different stages of cataloging.

Time to sign off now – I need to go make a list of all the lists I need to make.

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