Writing

On Finishing A Book

/ still a dreamer

Are you a book finisher? By that I mean, once into a novel, even if it isn’t fabulous or totally grabbing your interest, are you the person that will finish the book, always hoping it will get better?

Now I’m not talking about reading the first 10 pages and putting it down when you realize this isn’t for me or this isn’t the time for me to read this book. I mean when you’re well into the book, having read the premise on the book jacket or elsewhere and you truly believe that this should be a great novel. Or it’s by an author you really like.

Well, I’m a book finisher. Sometimes I plod along, absolutely sure the story will suddenly take a turn for the better. Much of the time it doesn’t, or it gets really good in the last 2 chapters. (Happily, I don’t choose books like this very often.) But sometimes I am rewarded for my pushing through a slow beginning and what seems to be a meandering first third to half of the book. Such is the case with Angel Landing by Alice Hoffman.

I find Alice Hoffman to be a brilliant writer, and she’s one of my favorite authors. That’s why I picked up this book last year at the library sale. But I must tell you, this one was slow going for me. At first. The initial unfolding of the relationship between Natalie and Carter, which was clearly lacking, didn’t intrigue me; nor did Natalie’s lack of interest and lack of proficiency in being a social worker; nor did the issue of a nuclear power plant in a north shore Long Island town. Carter’s group, Soft Skies, protests the plant and its inherent dangers, which explodes soon thereafter. Even when Michael Finn, a complex protagonist who may be the cause of the explosion, and perhaps the most interesting character, enters the picture, I was still not sucked in as I usually am by Hoffman’s novels.

But somewhere along the line, Alice Hoffman works her magic, and these ordinary people become increasingly 3-dimensional, and their pain and insecurities and the directions of their lives start to matter. Natalie’s Aunt Minnie is an endearing character, soon appreciated for both her genuine compassion for the people in the nursing home where she works and for her straight forward, common sense attitude towards life. Michael Finn, battling a lonely and painful past, soon draws us in. And then there is Michael Finn’s alcoholic and abusive father, Danny Finn.

So yes, I plodded a bit through the first third or so of this novel, not believing that Alice Hoffman would let me down. And she didn’t. On this one, I’m glad I’m a book finisher. Are you?

Taking the Easy Read

/ still a dreamer / 2 Comments

Have you had times in your life when you just couldn’t get through a book? No focus, no attention, but somewhere inside still longing to read? I think we all have, and as one who loves reading, I find it quite disconcerting, but there it is.

Difficult times are just a part of life, and for months there have been a bit more in my own than I’d like. During this time, I switched from book to book, but couldn’t really focus. So I returned to my ever-faithful and always-waiting selection of unread books, hoping to find the one that would ease me back into reading. And I found it, Dear John by Nicholas Sparks. I checked out all the quickie reviews, and this seems like the book for me – a love story that will engage me but not rip my heart out, that will entertain me without boring me. It’s taking the easy read, but I believe it will hit the spot right now.

And then … much like baking muffins for myself in broad daylight … I did what I really needed, (and wanted). to do. I gave myself the gift of curling up in a chair in the afternoon sun and I began to read Dear John. The cats take this sunshine-seeking in stride; they find the brightest spot of light, position themselves for maximum exposure, and luxuriate in the warmth. I decided to do the same. The dust, the vacuuming, the laundry … it’s not going anywhere.

We need to give ourselves these small gifts, whatever they may be. They make us feel whole. And happy. Why not give yourself a gift today?

Women Helping Women or ….

/ still a dreamer

If you give to any charities, you are aware that most charities sell their mailing lists to other charities. So where you may be a regular supporter of a few, you receive scores of other appeals requesting your donations to support their mission.

I understand this. What I find particularly difficult is that because I truly believe in the charities I donate to, those organizations with similar missions often resonate deeply with me as well. How do we decide to whom we give when the funds available to give are limited? I already have a stack I’d like to give to and more requests continue to pour in. In the last couple weeks, I must have received at least 20 appeals, some from those I already give to, and many other charities with worthy missions that want me to come on board with them.

The piece in all of these that really caught my eye told me that:

  • One in three women worldwide are beaten, coerced into sex or otherwise abused in their lifetime
  • Up to 70% of women worldwide encounter violence.
  • As many as 6 out of 10 migrant women from Central America are raped on their journey to the United States
  • Native American and Alaska Native women are 2.5 times more likely to be raped or sexually assaulted than women in the U.S. in general
  • In 2010 alone, an estimated 15,000 women were raped in eastern Congo.

The letter went on to describe the circumstances of individual women, one in the Democratic Republic of Congo who spoke out about being raped by a soldier and was raped again and bayonetted in the stomach. There are numerous other bone-chilling instances of women being burned because their dowries were too small, stoned to death because they “dishonored” their families, etc. Reference is made to the many women who, unable to support themselves, endure years of domestic abuse.

It is hard to believe that in our so-called enlightened world with all its technological advances that we remain so utterly barbaric towards one half of the human race … women. Madeleine K. Albright said, “There is a special place in hell for women who do not help other women.”

I feel compelled to help, but how? Do I give financially? Should I give to this organization, (Amnesty International), or to local organizations? Or should I help organizations that fight mammoth industrial giants who will knowingly destroy entire geographical areas and cause widespread species extinction?  Or help American Indian elders without food and heat? Or organizations that fight the worst of animal cruelty? Or … or … or?

Is there not a special place in hell for those of us who are aware of such need and do nothing? I was profoundly struck by these egregious offenses against women, yet I am aware of the need in every corner of the planet, and I, as can we all, can always do something. Whatever it is.

Oddly enough, after reading all these appeals, I remembered why I wanted to write children’s books … I want to open children’s eyes, to show them the love and beauty in the world, but also to show them that they have the power to change what’s wrong. They needn’t know at 5 years old that women are being sexually assaulted throughout the world, but they can know that helping and caring about others, be it humans, animals or our planet, makes a difference. And a well-crafted children’s book can show that in the most un-obvious of ways. So while I’ve yet to figure out where to send my next donation, perhaps  writing from my heart is my unique gift to a troubled world, the gift I can always give.

My guess is that you, no matter how much money you do or don’t have,  have plenty to give, too.

Water, Water Everywhere and Not A Drop to Drink

/ still a dreamer / 4 Comments

Forgive me if I’ve misquoted that; it’s only a lead-in anyway … to books, books, and not a page to read. But that wouldn’t be true. I’ve got plenty of books to read. I just can’t seem to figure out what I want to read.

Do you go through periods like this? You want to read a good book, but it seems no matter which one you pick up, its not the right one for right now? That’s where I am. Restless Reader. I’ve turned back to my selection of yet-to-be-read books from last Spring’s book sale and perused other bookshelves and nothing is jumping out at me. I want the book that reaches out, grabs me and sucks me in with fast moving prose and a faster moving storyline. And, of course, it must be very well written. One of the books that comes to mind like that was White Oleander. I need one of those.

So I grabbed this book, Ghosts by John Banville, as the jacket flap reminds me of why I picked it up in the first place. Who can’t get into a good ghost story? We shall see.

And I now have a backup plan. If this isn’t the one, I’m heading over to my local library and getting The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo. Just saw that in the movies and it was one of the best movies I’ve seen in a long time. The book can only be better, right? But for now, I’m pinning my hopes on Ghosts.

 

A Way with Words – Heart Songs

/ still a dreamer

I’m wondering if E. Annie Proulx is an acquired taste. She is unique among authors I’ve read for any number of reasons, perhaps most importantly … does she have a way with words!

I first met Ms. Proulx when I read The Shipping News, and found her style engrossing, challenging to read, and simply like no other. I most recently picked up her collection of short fiction, Heart Songs. She writes about people we average Americans rarely, if ever, see, in this case the longtime residents of rural New England, whose lives and lifestyles are coming into sharp collisions with wealthier newcomers embracing the “country life.” In this regard, reading about the people in these short stories was something akin to watching the movie Winter’s Bone, i.e., seeing for the first time how a segment of Americans live, people of whom we generally have no knowledge. It’s fascinating, sometimes disturbing and frightening, sometimes heartbreaking. Yet Proulx is not asking for pity or judgment for her characters. They are who they are; she is simply telling their stories.

But oh! her way with words … “Often his razor tongue stropped itself on the faults and flaws of his dead parents …”; “The corpse of a less-wise raven lay beneath a bush like a patch of melted tar. The fox rolled in the carcass, grinding his shoulders into it. He got up, shook himself and continued his tour, a black feather in the fur of his shoulder like a dart placed by a picador.“; ” … his face dark as a smoked ham, eyes like bird’s eyes, orange and inhuman.”

Whose writing could fail to be enlightened by an author whose use of words is so intense, lyrical, and magnificently descriptive. If, in each thing we read, we hope to not only gain from the enjoyment of the story itself but also some wonderful addition to our own skills as writers, then E. Annie Proulx’s Heart Songs speaks volumes on how to say what we mean. And how to say it with an incomparable richness.