Women Talking

 By Miriam Toews

Bloomsbury     2019

227 pages     Literary

If there is such a classification as “real-life dystopia,” Women Talking is a perfect example. This ironic, iconic, and timeless story about abused women was the book we discussed at book club this week. I read the book after I saw the movie, which was nominated for an Academy Award for Best Motion Picture and won for Best Adapted Screenplay. I watched the movie again just before book group. Those friends who had not seen the movie struggled a bit with the book.

A brief summary. There are several large Mennonite communities in the countryside of Bolivia. (Who knew?) Most of these communities are ultra conservative. Between 2005 and 2009, more than 150 women and girls were raped at night in their home by a group of colony men who sedated them with animal tranquilizer. Miriam Toews used this horrible story as the foundation of her novel, Women Talking.  In the novel, the women are meeting in the hay loft of a community barn to discuss these attacks and how they should respond to them. They ask August, the local schoolteacher who grew up in the colony, to help them keep the minutes of their meetings because they can’t read or write. That doesn’t mean they aren’t smart.

The book is primarily discussion, with few plot devices to move the story forward. The women do not talk about their rapes but what they should do to get out of there. Some of the men have been arrested, and other men of the community have gone to the city to bail them out. The women see this as an opportunity to escape.

“The women have come up with three competing plans. They can remain in the colony and live exactly as they did before the assaults, they can stay and fight for change or they can hitch up their buggies and leave. Although they disagree constantly and sharply, there’s one point on which they concur: They have been treated like animals — and it didn’t start with the rapes. ‘When our men have used us up so that we look 60 when we’re 30 and our wombs have literally dropped out of our bodies onto spotless kitchen floors, finished, they turn to our daughters,’ a woman named Salome says. ‘And if they could sell us all at auction afterwards they would.’ Fierce, articulate Salome often gets the last word, but the novel is a choral ensemble piece in which each woman chimes in with a distinctive voice.” This is from the New York Times review.

 The reader becomes totally caught up in these discussions, and as the sparse plot begins to thicken, the reader’s anxiety rises. The ending has the women leaving the colony, and the reader is left not knowing what will happen to them. Yet, the plot is not the most significant aspect of the book. The role of women in this society is the most important piece. The burning question is whether or not their faith means that they have to forgive these men who have attacked them. Faith is the theme of the book. Of course, the role of women is the most important talking point of the novel.

Book group had an extremely lively discussion about the book and the movie. The major gripe my friends had concerned the difficulty the readers had keeping track of the women. The problem is that their names are difficult to remember. This is not such a problem in the movie, because the viewer sees the faces of the women, and the names are not so important. In other words, it all made more sense in the movie. The movie stays pretty close to the book, although a few things are altered.

Reader reviews on Goodreads are all over the place on this book, but most professional reviewers gave the book high marks. Toews comes from a Mennonite community near Manitoba Canada. She left the colony when she was 18 and thus she is the perfect person to tell this story. She said that she had to write this story because it could have happened to her. Here is an interview with Toews that helps explain her desire to tell this story.

All the Beauty in the World: The Metropolitan Museum of Art and Me

 By Patrick Bringley

Simon and Schuster     2023

240 pages     Memoir

The advance readers copy of All The Beauty in the World by Patrick Bringley sat on my pile of books for several months. It always looked so intriguing, and it kept reappearing on the top of the stack as if calling to me. Finally, I ditched all the books that I was meandering through and decided that this was it. I began to delve into Bringley’s ten years as a Metropolitan Museum of Art guard. And I am so glad that I did.

After a family tragedy, Bringley chose to change the trajectory of  his career. He became a guard, took notes, and has treated the reader to an intimate look at life at the Met. Early on in his job he learned that a day as a guard is “a day of perfect loneliness.” That other than sore feet, this is a perfect job. He sought to learn everything he could about the art in the museum, the way the museum is run, and most importantly who the patrons are that visit the museum. Because, after all, the job of a museum guard is to protect the patrons and the art.

All of this he shares from his unique guard’s-eye view. He chose this job because it was “the most straightforward job I could think of in the most beautiful place I knew.” This job gave him time to grieve his brother’s death, to learn all that he could, and stand still and reflect. And because of his dedication and his note-taking, we have the opportunity to learn and to grow as well.

There are a lot of facts that the reader has to wade through, including statistics about the 2000 employees and the 600 guards, many of whom come from Guyana, Albania and Russia. Bringley tells us a lot about the visitors to the museum. He outlines the three types of museum visitor: there is the sightseer who is sort of along for the ride; the dinosaur hunter who primarily is looking for entertainment and big stuff; and then there are the lovers—the art lover here for an exhibition, the art lover who really loves the museum itself; and the lovebird, who move through the museum looking for peace and joy. (I believe that I have represented every one of those types of viewers at some time in my life.)

Most importantly, Bringley tells the reader about all that he learned in his ten years at the Met, including the paintings and other art works that meant a great deal to him. Each of those art works are documented at the end of the book. He has suggestions for when to visit the museum and how to arrange a visit. He says, “You may not have words to describe your sensations, but try to notice them anyway. Hopefully, in the silence and the stillness, you’ll experience something uncommon or unexpected.”

In a much younger year of my life, we were in Paris. We got caught up in the Modern Art Museum and spent hours as lovebirds. Suddenly we realized that we had not been to the Louvre and it was getting close to closing time. We ran across the street and said breathlessly to the guard, “Ou est la Mona Lisa?” Apparently this was not the first time that breathless visitors had asked that question, and the guard personally led us to the painting. Bringley would have called us dinosaur hunters. I have also gone to art museums as a sightseer, not particularly looking for anything, but just out for the sights.  And when the Van Gogh exhibit was at the Chicago art museum, my daughter and I drove to the city for a day and only went to that exhibit, another type of art visitor, the exhibition visitor.

When you are totally engrossed in a book, you often find examples all around you. I discovered several Freakonomics episodes about art museums and stolen art. I watched The Thomas Crown Affair and focused on the museum guards who are prominent early on in the movie in red suit coats, and today I watched From the Mixed Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler, which is about a brother and sister who run away to the Metropolitan Museum. The book of the same name by E.L. Konigsburg is 55 years old, and both the book and the movie are charming.

There is so much to absorb while reading All the Beauty in the World. I felt like I just kept growing and growing, yearning and longing for such wonderful growth experiences. The NPR reviewer says that the book “reminds us of the importance of learning not ‘about art, but from it.’ This is art appreciation at a profound level.”

Patrick Bringley’s website. He even gives private tours of the Metropolitan Museum. That would be something amazing to do on a visit to New York.

The Remarkable Ordinary: How to Stop, Look, and Listen to Life

 By Frederick Buechner

Zondervan     2017          

121 pages     Spiritual

Frederick Buechner was a writer, a theologian, a philosopher. He had the ability to say things that we all would like to be able to say—to connect his words with people’s hearts. Written in 2017, The Remarkable Ordinary is one of his last books. It came from a series of lectures Buechner gave in 1987 and 1990. He died in 2022 at the age of 96.

It is a brief book, divided into three sections: Stop, Look, and Listen for God; Listening for God in the Stories We Tell; and Telling the Truth. In the Forward by the book’s editor, John Sloan suggests that Buechner is a writer for devout skeptics and loyal believers. He seems to understand his readers and wonders with them without condemning the questioning. He wants to find the inner light within people and to celebrate the way that light shines.

I found myself underlining sentence after sentence and writing comments over and over. This particular book seemed to touch my soul. Was I feeling particularly vulnerable, or did Buechner have the remarkable ability to connect with my thinking, my concerns, my worries, and my cares.

Somehow reading Buechner’s words helps the reader pay attention to the ordinary in life and find the joy in the ordinary. He tells many stories about his life and how those incidents in his life helped him find peace. He suggests that we listen deeply to our stories and use them to find our own peace.

I am living alone for the first time in my life—since my husband died six months ago. The surprising thing for me is that I am learning to be at peace with this new reality. Buechner’s words have helped me to relax into my life and to find moments of intense joy and moments of beauty.

The words of Frederick Buechner came to me at the right time and the right place. I can’t wait to discuss it with my church book group next week.

I also read and reviewed A Crazy Holy Grace. You can find my review here.

Liquid Shades of Blue

 By James Polkinghorn

Oceanview     2023

 208 pages     Thriller

Here is a synopsis of the story line from the back of the book. “When hungover ex-lawyer and Key West bar owner Jack Girard groggily wakes up one morning, he’s greeted by a beautiful woman lying next to him and a shrill, ringing telephone. Seeing the call is from his father, Claude “The Duke” Girard, Jack answers. Within seconds, he learns that his mother is dead in an apparent suicide, and Jack hits the road, heading back to his childhood home in Miami to face his tyrannical father.

The death of his mother brings up haunting memories from Jack’s past—memories of his brother Bobby’s suicide when they were in college together. Being back in Miami only continues to dredge up his family’s traumas, but things grow more complicated when The Duke suggests that his estranged wife’s alleged suicide may have been a murder.

As Jack begins to uncover the truth about his mother’s death, including the secret she had revealed to only two people—the same secret Bobby had taken with him to his grave—he finds himself in imminent danger. Can Jack reveal the true story before it’s too late? He has to act quickly, or he fears he may be the victim of the next Girard family tragedy.”

My opinion of the book is both positive and negative. Here are some of the things I appreciated. The setting was terrific—coastal Florida from Key West to Miami. The road between the two areas is described well through several chapters as Jack travels from his apartment in Key West to the family’s homes in Miami. Jack also remembers very well the waters where the family set sail through the good years of their lives together. Hence the title, Liquid Shades of Blue.

Jack is a well-defined and developed character. He had a very hard time adapting to life following the suicide of his brother, Bobby, and now his mother is dead. This has led to estrangement from his father, which is understandable considering that The Duke is very overbearing and to a large extent unlovable. Jack has trouble dealing with his father’s ways, but having been betrayed by his father when he was a young lawyer in the family law firm, he changed careers completely and moved far away. Now he feels compelled to try to solve the mystery of his mother’s death. Something feels very “off” to him and to the reader. Thus the reader understands who he is and the pain he is experiencing.

On the other hand, I felt that the plot was a bit contrived, and a bit clunky. I sort of knew that the mother’s death was not a suicide, and I had glimmers of who the murderer was, but I didn’t expect the ending to be quite so brutal. It was almost like the author didn’t quite know how to end the book, so all of a sudden it was over. Liquid Shades of Blue for sure.

To his credit, Polkinghorn did not spend a great deal of time with his characters in the courtroom, which is a failing of a lot of lawyer/mystery writers. I appreciated that. The other good thing about the book is that it didn’t ramble; Polkinghorn knew where his plot was headed and he purposefully headed that way.

Liquid Shades of Blue will be released next week. Here is Polkinghorn’s website. My copy of the book came from the publicist.

Saturday Night at the Lakeside Supper Club

 By J. Ryan Stradal

Viking     2023

335 pages     Literary

Saturday Night at the Lakeside Supper Club is the third J. Ryan Stradal novel that I have read, and I have loved all three. Is it because they are all based in Minnesota, my home state? Is it because some of the topics are about food? Is it because many of the protagonists are women? All of the above!

Stradal’s third novel is about a supper club and the family members who have owned it over three generations. Natalie Rinn wrote a terrific article about supper clubs on the Taste website. What I did not know is that supper clubs are an Upper Midwest phenomenon. It almost feels like Stradal read this article before he began writing his book, because there are several similarities. (I do have to insert that Matt Rodbard who runs the Taste website is the son of my dear friend Cheryl, and knows Stradal. Just had to put in that connection.)

The plot involves four generations of Minnesota women, Betty, Florence, Mariel, and Julia, one restaurant called The Lakeside Supper Club, one Big Boy-style diner chain called Jorby’s, food and drink, and love, loss, grief, and persistence. The book is epic in nature spanning about 85 years, from the early 1930s to the present. During that time frame, the one consistent element is the restaurant, who runs it, who works there, and who is going to inherit it.

Stradal is a genius at getting into the heads of women protagonists. They are identifiable, loveable, annoying, and totally spot-on. One of my favorite sub-plots concerns Florence, who is not interested in the restaurant and becomes estranged from her daughter Mariel, who with her husband Ned, is running  the restaurant. Florence wants to reconnect with Mariel following a major tragedy, but Mariel is not ready for that. So, Florence begins a sit-down strike at the local church when Mariel doesn’t come to pick her up after Sunday church.  The community members rise to the occasion and help Florence survive three months of waiting. It becomes the “unofficial, unverified record for public passive-aggressive waiting.”  

All the book’s characters are memorable. The only difficulty I experienced was remembering which generation I was in. However, I discovered that when I read the chapter headings, Stradal has identified which generation we are talking about during which years. Once I figured that out, the pages flew by. I recently read an article about how Stradal writes to please his long-deceased mother. By doing that, Stradal enters the minds of the women he celebrates.

I also liked how Stradal celebrates the people who work at restaurants, the cooks, the servers, and the other staff. I think they tend to be ignored. Additionally, I appreciated the opportunities that restaurants offer to people. Betty, Florence, and Mariel all took their turns serving customers at the Lakeside Supper Club. All learned how to be gracious hosts to locals, tourists, and the cottage residents. (Only in Minnesota, cottages are called “cabins”.)

My first thought when I began the book was about a supper club that we drive by in Northern Wisconsin on our many, many trips to Duluth. When I looked it up, I remembered that it is Kincaid’s Country Inn—Prime Rib and Steak in Rice Lake. The website says that it is “an iconic restaurant, built on a historic location that hungry customers in the Midwestern Northwoods have been visiting for generations.” This could definitely be the Lakeside Supper Club, just in a different location.

Here are my reviews of Stradal’s two other books: Kitchens of the Great Midwest, which is about a famous Minnesota chef, and The Lager Queen of Minnesota, about women developing a brewery. The Minneapolis Star Tribune review says that Stradal “is a genius at world-building.” I would definitely agree. Saturday Night at the Lakeside Supper Club is a world all its own. Come and have some steak or prime rib.