Some people read mysteries as a guilty pleasure: I read organization books. So when I picked up Throw Out Fifty Things I was expecting some interesting strategies about purging one’s possessions, and indeed the author includes recommendations on how to separate the useful from the superfluous, room by room. Nothing very creative there, but I like her counting method, scoring one point by category rather than by item. And then she moves to more ambitious territory, getting rid of memories that weigh us down — and the book turns rather silly as she ponderously attempts to recreate old dialogs with parents and such. Pity!
The Pleasures and Sorrows of Work is a series of essays about various kinds of work and how the work shapes the workers, and vice-versa. It starts with a wonderful description of a logistics center in the UK that orchestrates shipments of all kinds of goods throughout the country, much of which done at night from vast warehouses that look like bleak boxes from outside, but are minutely organized and streamlined inside. How interesting to read about the invisible and usually neglected world of operations folks. It travels to the Maldives for tuna fishing (gruesome!) It’s back in the UK for the Pylon Appreciation Society, yes, you read it correctly, people who travel along power lines to appreciate the various types and sizes of the pylons that support them! It ventures into cubicles and attends management training seminars and employee motivation speeches.
While I found some of the rifts annoying (what’s so wrong, really, about living one’s life as product manager for a line of cookies? Does the anonymous peasant in the field truly have a more meaningful life than the cookie manager?) and some factual errors surprising (there are more than 26 departements in France, surely, since Paris is in #75!)I very much enjoyed the books including the stark photographs that accompany the essays. Highly recommended!
Netherland is the story of a Dutch stock analyst, married to a British lawyer and temporarily, and apparently happily working in New York. After 9/11 his wife decides that New York is too dangerous of a place for their son to live and moves back to London (where, as we know, no terrorist threats exists!) and leaves him behind, rather abruptly. And he drifts, not really sure of where he stands without his family. He is drawn to cricket, a sport he did not know was played in the US, and to cricket players, who in the US hail from all parts of the former British Empire (and there are precious few stock analysts amongst them.) He hangs out with the other residents of the shifty hotel where he lives. He shuttles back to the UK to see his son.
But the events don’t matter. It’s about the feelings — like when he reflects about his mother’s death, which seems strangely diminished by the remoteness of her to him since he left the Netherlands. It’s about the outsider’s descriptions of the US (I particularly liked the description of the DMV, with its fortified counters and its hostile clerks) It’s about the random facts, such as his friend Chuck’s long exposes on various trivia including all the Guineas in the world.
I can’t quite remember when I so liked a book with a male hero and a male author. A wonderful read.
The Unlikely Disciple tells the story of a college student who decides to attend Liberty University (founded by Jerry Falwell) for a semester’s break from Brown and as a reporting opportunity, a la Racing Odysseus but from a 20-something’s eyes. The disingenuous aspect of the stunt (since, unlike the author of Racing Odysseus, the author does not need to explain his presence in the university, and does not) made me squirm a bit, and to be fair it also makes the author squirm, although never enough to fully explain himself to his colleagues. But the story is interesting. Strictly segregated by gender and having to follow a strict code of conduct, Liberty students take classes that emphasize beliefs over facts or science. Infractions are punished by a predetermined schedule of reprimands and fines (hugging your sweetheart for more than 3 seconds is worth more than swearing, for instance) that eerily reminded me of confession penances. Heterosexuality and marriage are heartily pushed and promoted, with the goals of marrying off the students before they leave.
There are positive aspects of the learning experience (no more hangovers on Sunday mornings, an excellent knowledge of the bible) and others that are a bit frightening. How can “young earth” extremists undertake honest studies in biology? (Liberty has an Engineering college, which I assume believes in gravity; but how can biologists function without evolution?) How will the students function post-graduation, when the reprimands are no longer meted out when they swear, or worse? And how will they hold their own in a world that expects debate rather than blind obeisance to an established rule? Surely universities should be a place of debates, of forming one’s own ideas, or appreciating the value of a solid argument.
My Sister, My Love tells the story of a little girl who is mysteriously murdered in the house of her wealthy parents. And she’s a budding ice skater, always clad in exaggerated girlish outfits complete with makeup and “done” hair, which made me very suspicious that I was entering a tabloid world, which it’s a Joyce Carol Oates world: finely detailed, rich in multiple points of view, and never completely explicated.
So the story is really about philandering fathers, mothers that try too hard to fit in with the richer set, children who are both overcontrolled and curiously abandoned to their feelings of despair and loneliness, and the assorted helpers that rich people collect: nannies, coaches, psychologists, some who provide the very warmth that is lacking in the families and others that just feed on the money.
A very well told story of rich suburbs, not exactly uplifting but not too depressing either.
In the last post I complained about books that are only good for a while — but, sadly, there are books that are bad all the way through. The Scar of David tells a meticulously arranged story of a Palestinian family that loses its home near Haifa when Israel is first established and seems to always be in the wrong place at the wrong time in the subsequent wars. While no historical event is missed no cliche is spared either. Here are two samples from page 23, about a mother-in-lay welcoming her Bedouin daughter in law: “She instructed her in the secretes to regain the body’s firmness and tricks to keep the interest of her husband after childbirth” and “Se was giddy, excited to have a female heir to her empire of enchanted herbs.” Yikes.
I’m not sure why I read to the very end. Save yourself the trouble: all the bad stuff you think may happen does, indeed.