The State of this Union, 2011

A few years ago I mentioned that the U.S. State of the Union Address bears personal significance for Partner and I, marking that time, lo these many years ago, that we started our wanderings together. This week, President Obama’s third State of the Union Address had me counting on my fingers.

Seventeen.

Seventeen years of sharp right turns, overabundant grapefruit, and sleepless nights. 

In no particular order, here is a less-than-scientific accounting with which we might measure our seventeen years:

— 3 states (one of them twice)

— 4 cars (ok, two cars, one truck, and a Eurovan)

— 1 murder trial (neither of us) 

— 8 abodes (five apartments and three houses)

— 7 incisions (I lead by one, but do not hope for advancement on either side)

— 1 parachute jump (no, not me)

— 1 frog (may she rest in the compost pile)

— 4 hand-knit sweaters (three for me, one for him; he’s bigger)

— 1 nose ring (that one’s me)

— A handful of messy breakups (is there any other kind?)

— A bucketload of bagels (boiled, of course; chocolate-chip from time to time)

— 4 high schools (all him; three as teacher, one as oppressor)

— 3 institutions of higher education (four degrees and a certification)

— 3 Sonars (eeny, meeny, and miney)

— A mountain of books (and counting)

— 1 red and blue dye job (still not me)

— The infinite hope that we can put together at least another seventeen years (preferably with 100% less criminal justice system and 100% more intellectual engagement).

Love you, babe. 

A Book A Week: Wonderstruck by Brian Selznick

Wonderstruck by Brian Selznick. Scholastic 2011 (library copy)

You might know Selznick’s work from his previous novel, The Invention of Hugo Cabret (which has recently been adapted into the film Hugo), or from one of the many children’s books he has illustrated (like Frindle or The Landry News). Like Hugo Cabret, Wonderstruck is massive-looking, but do no be put off by fears of the book’s density. The text of the novel is elaborately illustrated by Selznick’s signature artwork, giving a cinematic quality to the unfolding of the narrative.

The story alternates between Ben and Rose. Ben lives in 1977, in Minnesota. His story is told entirely in words. His mother has just died, and in his grief, he begins to wonder about the father he has never known. Rose lives in 1927, near New York City, and her story is told entirely in pictures. Despite the distance of time and space, Ben and Rose are connected, both in coincidences of their lives, and in their mutual search for missing pieces.

This is the sort of story a person (child or adult) could completely fall into. Though I read this to myself, the story would be lovely read out loud, side-by-side. And though there are one or two moments where the story feels overly contrived, there is a little bit of magic in the way that Ben and Rose find what they need.

Internet Goes on Strike

http://sopastrike.com/strike/

A Book A Week: The Princess Bride by William Goldman

The Princess Bride: S. Morgenstern’s Classic Tale of True Love and High Adventure, The ‘good parts’ version, Abridged by William Goldman. Harcourt Brace Jovanovich (Via Ballantine paperback) 1973.

I’ve seen The Princess Bride movie many times. It’s one of the few movies I’ve ever been willing to rewatch. I infected the Sonars with my love for the movie, and now they too will quote it for you on request. They particularly like Fezzik and Inigo’s rhyming.

But I had never read the book. This paperback has been hanging around our house for decades, and I’ve always wanted to read it, but just never got around to it. So I was put in a curious position. Usually I read a book first and it’s up to the movie to live up to the book and my imagination. In this case though, I knew and loved the movie, and it was up to the book to measure up.

I’m happy to say that the book is fun. In terms of the main plot about Westley and Buttercup, the story is very familiar, with only minor shifts to accommodate movie-plotting. But what I absolutely adore is the framing sequence about Goldman’s experience with the book as a child at his father’s side and trying to find the book for his own son only to be disappointed by the boring parts. In the movie, the framing story of the grandfather reading to the sick boy inadequately stands in for this hilarious device. The book is worth a read if only for the introduction and for Goldman’s narrative remarks throughout the story.

A Book A Week: The Buddha in the Attic by Julie Otsuka

The Buddha in the Attic by Julie Osaka. Alfred A. Knopf 2011 (library copy).

Otsuka’s second novel tells the story of a group of women, Japanese picture brides, traveling on a boat to meet the husbands that have bought them and brought them to America. We follow the women through their struggles, pain, fear, joy, disappointment, outrage, success, and failure, through their various jobs, marriages, and experiences leading up to their next great journey: to Japanese internment camps in the United States during World War II. We feel their experiences in the immediacy of the narration. Rather than feeling those experiences individually though, we feel them collectively through Osaka’s use of first person plural narration.

The story has a chant-like quality, almost prayer-like in the layered repetition of the women’s collective lives. We are the women when we read the story. We feel the reverence and sanctity of their lives. We are hurt by their tragedies. We feel the betrayal and devastation most keenly when the narrative voice shifts from the women themselves to their neighbors who watch them go to the camps. The neighbors who understand nothing, and do nothing, as the Japanese-Americans (and anyone who might resemble a Japanese-American) marches away to who knows where, leaving behind a void that is first lamented, then filled, then forgotten.

This small, spare, beautiful, important novel might be overlooked, but, perhaps without intending to, can teach us a lesson about the world we live in now. I see the same kind of marginalization and dehumanization of Muslim-Americans happening today. I hope we as Americans do not forget the ugly truth of the wrong we inflicted upon Japanese-Americans in the name of patriotism and a false sense of security. I hope that we can learn from those experiences of the past. But I am not certain.

Osaka’s deft and subtle use of language is thrilling to me, and I look forward to reading her first novel, When the Emperor was Divine.