Good Reads

The Mermaid Chair – Part 2

/ still a dreamer

mermaidchairWhat a terrific read! In The Mermaid Chair, Sue Monk Kidd has given us a tale of a woman searching for her lost soul. Jessie Sullivan, the main character, tells us her story in first person … that of a woman deeply restless in her marriage, lost and unhappy. She is called back to the place where she grew up, Egret Island, by friends of the family on the occasion of her mother having taken a meat cleaver and chopped off one of her fingers. 

Once at the island, the plot really unfolds with this bizarre mystery, Jessie’s unforeseen attraction to a monk, her struggle with her relationship with her husband of many years, the riches of female friendship, and the mermaid chair itself. Not the least of it all, is the magnificent description of place.

For the duration of this book, I was immersed in the physical life of Egret Island, an imaginary place off Charleston, South Carolina. Monk has nothing short of an exquisite use of words in describing the island, the marshes, birds, and sultry air. I am truly in awe of her ability to bring me to a place that lives and breathes so, that surrounds me while I read. For this, I was sorry when the book ended … I loved being there.

With a richness of characters in the women – Nelle, (Jessie’s mother), friends Hepzibah and Kat, and Kat’s daughter, Benne- The Mermaid Chair weaves the mystery — what caused her mother to brutally attack her own body this way? And then, how is Jessie Sullivan attracted to a monk? Brother Thomas/Whit is also wonderfully drawn, as is Jessie’s husband Hugh. While Jessie struggles, searching for answers in her own life as well as for her mother, she paints. And paints, in ways she’s never seen herself do before.

The Mermaid Chair is described as a coming-of-middle-age novel, which could sound kind of ho-hum unless in the hands of a very skilled writer. Have no fear – Sue Monk Kidd is that writer. It really is a book I couldn’t put down and was reading past the hour when I should have been asleep. It simply has everything … a deep mystery, love and passion, the bond of female friendship and a search for one’s soul.

When all is said and done, other than Monk’s exceptional writing, the most compelling comparison I could make between The Mermaid Chair and The Secret Life of Bees,  is that I truly never knew how it was going to end. And that’s a good thing.

The Mermaid Chair – Part 1

/ still a dreamer / 2 Comments

seashell2Here’s a fine case of not judging a book by its cover, or better said, an author by her previous book. The Secret Life of Bees by Sue Monk Kidd was going to be a hard act to follow. There isn’t a soul I know who didn’t think Bees wasn’t one of the best books they’d read in a long, long time.  When The Mermaid Chair arrived on the scene, there seemed to be a consensus that, before even reading it, Kidd’s new book would not be able to compare to The Secret Life of Bees.

I am almost through The Mermaid Chair, and I think it’s amazing. It’s not long into the book before you forget who wrote it, what she wrote previously or anything like that. And that’s my advice for anyone wanting to read The Mermaid’s Chair — go in letting go of any preconceptions and ideas of comparing. The book, to me, is so totally different from Bees, it deserves to be read solely for its own merits, (as does any book, really), and enjoyed for the rich story it is.

I’ve become immersed in place alone in The Mermaid Chair.  More when I’m done ….

The Absolutely True Diary of A Part-Time Indian

/ still a dreamer / 3 Comments

parttimeindianHere’s where I’ve hitched my star – writing and illustrating children’s books – picture books,  chapter books. Yet belonging to a writer’s group and SCBWI, in the company of readers and writers of other children’s genres, I find myself being drawn to those I don’t write… MG and YA fiction. And what a draw it is. My local librarian and I were discussing some of our mutual interests, and she recommended the YA novel The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian by Sherman Alexie. I was just blown away by this book and can’t wait to read more by its author.  

Although I have a fair amount of factual information about what life is like on an Indian  reservation, I, as a white person in a predominantly white culture, cannot possibly know the daily challenges and ongoing pain of rez life.  Sherman Alexie, a Spokane Indian, brings this to light in a way that is both tragically sad and wryly funny.  I actually found this to be, on the one hand, one of the saddest books I have read in a long, long time, as the main character, Arnold – known as Junior on the rez – loses family member after family member to the direct or indirect results of the alcoholism that is epidemic there. Yet the comic style in which Alexie writes can at times make one not quite realize fully the tragedies he’s describing. Quite a feat.  I was quickly drawn in to Junior’s first person narrative beginning with his severe health problems up to age 7 and his continuous struggle to survive and ultimately make something of himself. Along with my feeling his pain, I could not help but cheer him on and/or comfort him, through everything he experiences.

When Junior receives his 7th grade math book to find his mother’s maiden name written inside, he knows he has no choice but to leave, to go off-rez to an all white school 22 miles away.  Here he truly starts a new chapter of his own life. Although deeply resented by his entire tribe for it, Junior leaves the reservation to make a future for himself, and in this move, becomes a phenomenally brave main character. 

Junior’s character is  insightful, honest, humble, (if not self-effacing like any typical teenager), and in spite of a life infused with hardship, incredibly funny. While he describes the problems and pain that are simply life on the reservation, he never fails to also describe the love and devotion of his family, his best friend Rowdy, and his tribe.  I found Alexie’s style of relating such profound hurt mitigated with clever wit to be amazing, and I truly could not put this book down. 

Last night, I looked further into the author, Sherman Alexie, finding some very interesting videos, among them, one of his receiving the 2007 National Book Award. I watched another of his being interviewed on a PBS station, where he revealed how autobiographical The Absolutely True Diary of A Part-Time Indian really is – almost entirely.  To watch Alexie was to better understand his character and his book. He began as a poet and wrote short stories and a few screenplays as well. (He wrote the screenplay for Smoke Signals, a movie based on one of his short stories.) This is Alexie’s first YA novel. He discussed in the interview how thrilled he was that so many teens resonated with Arnold/Junior. Not just teens, I’m sure. He already added this fan to his base in just one book, and I look forward to reading more from this terrific author.

In Between Books…Green Angel-Alice Hoffman

/ still a dreamer

greenangelThere’s always something a bit sad about finishing a book. Maybe the word is empty. For so many pages we’ve been engrossed in others’ lives, an adventure, an intimate voyage through the eyes of another … the story reaches its peak then twists, turns, slips into its resolution. The last page. And it’s done.  Sigh. Can’t there be more? (At least for the really good books.)

I recently finished Green Angel by Alice Hoffman, a MG novel that I came across while buying Christmas gifts in a local town’s bookstore. I like Alice Hoffman’s writing, and this was about Green, a 15 year old girl, a tragedy, guilt, isolation, survival, and ultimately redemption through love. How could it go wrong? It didn’t disappoint. Both magical and moody, Green Angel drew me in. But all too soon it was over.

In between books, I mentally, if not physically, pace. It’s a restless time. I survey the books I currently have on hand, waiting to be read. Plenty to choose from, including the other book I’d purchased at the same time in the Clinton Bookstore. But I’m not quite ready for that one. I roam from bookcase to bookcase, perusing those waiting to be opened, considering some rereads, then returning to books already begun and put aside for one reason or another. Where is the inner gauge pointing? Fiction? Non-fiction? Indecision.

skelligFast forward to a stop at my local library to try and find some reference material for an illustration I’ll need to start. There, among some book jackets featured in a display, a word jumps out – Skellig. I know Skellig. It’s a song from a favorite Loreena McKennitt CD, The Book of Secrets. I ask the librarian about this, and she assures me they are not related. Skellig the book is an MG novel by David Almond – hawk or owl feathers are in the cover illustration, and the back cover asks “Man, bird or angel? Who or what is Skellig?”

The time in between books is over.

Reading Feeds Writing- Joseph Pullman

/ still a dreamer

As a constant reader, I am aware of how reading enriches me in so many ways. But by reading books in the field for which I’m writing, I am doubly enriched as the story, style, and imagery of another writer fuels my imagination and even helps in problem solving. This may sound like the obvious, but I’ll give a concrete example of how reading feeds writing.

I just finished Joseph Pullman’s “His Dark Materials”. What a fabulous trilogy and a great read for anyone who has a bent for fantasy. Written for young adults, the series is incredibly complex with multiple sub-plots, not to mention layers of meaning. But my point is this.

I’m working on a children’s picture book manuscript which features both children and small forest-dwellers, (fairies, elves, gnomes). It was important that I make a clear differentiation between the children and the fairy folk and make the latter’s names consistent with each other so young readers wouldn’t be confused. While I was pondering this, I reflected on how well Joseph Pullman had done it.

The Gallivespians’ names were always preceded by Lord or Lady; the bears always had two names, such as Iorek Byrnison and had a Nordic feel to them; the witches, all women, also had first and last names, as in Serafina Pekkala; the Gyptians often had names that seemed to go together like Lord Faa or Farder Coram; the mulefas, (and why that was always italicized, I don’t know), had names that just fit with their species, such as Atala.

There was never any question which type of character you were reading about, and it was in thinking about how well Pullman had accomplished this that I resolved my dilemma. Now my children are clearly children, and my little forest-dwellers are clearly little forest-dwellers. Voila – how much better it reads!