American Dirt

By Jeanine Cummins

Flatiron     2020

400 pages     Literary

First, a word of advice: don’t try to read American Dirt if you are at all stressed out about being stuck at home during a pandemic. As Maureen Corrigan said on NPR’s Fresh Air, “American Dirt is the novel that, for me, nails what it’s like to live in this age of anxiety, where it feels like anything can happen, at any moment.”

I downloaded a copy of the book when it first came out in January because of the tremendous press it was receiving. Then the controversy began, and I decided I needed to read it because of what people were saying—that it was “trauma porn,” according to several Mexican and Mexican American writers. The major criticism seems to be who is allowed to tell the story—is this a case of cultural appropriation? An article in Slate explains the story. I’ll leave it to my readers to sort through the controversy.

In the novel, Lydia, a bookseller from Acapulco, and her little son Luca escape a mass killing of their entire family on the orders of the local cartel kingpin. Lydia had become acquainted with him at her bookstore, and consequently her husband Sebastian, a local journalist,  had written an expose of him. The tale then follows the mother and son’s harrowing journey to El Nord to escape the kingpin’s wrath. Along the way, they meet people traveling north under a variety of circumstances. They form alliances and have fearsome encounters as they travel.

I  am not sure that Lydia is typical of Mexican immigrants to the United States. Some readers and reviewers felt that she was too educated, too privileged. I reached out to Kathy, the lawyer at our local Justice For Our Neighbor (JFON) site, but she had not read the book. Although I work with JFON, I have not met enough of their clients to know just how typical Lydia is. I liked her a lot—her feverish protection of her son, her intelligence, her courage, and her endurance. Actually, almost all of the characters were interesting and well-defined.

The most important lesson I learned from American Dirt is that everyone has a story and everyone has a life experience. The people we meet in the book on the journey North all have stories to share—stories that tell why they came on this journey, where they are going, and what has motivated this journey. 

Despite its review challenges, I believe American Dirt is an excellent choice for individual or book club reading—just not during a pandemic. By the same token, don’t read Station Eleven by Emily St. John Mandel right now, because it is about the results of a pandemic. Incredible book but scary just the same. Read something fun. That’s what I intend to do next.

We Are the Weather: Saving the Planet Begins at Breakfast

By Jonathan Safran Foer

Farrar, Straus and Giroux     2019

272 pages     Nonfiction

If you are expecting a “how to” about cooking and eating a plant based diet, Jonathan Safran Foer’s new book, We are the Weather, will not satisfy that need. If you are looking for a fact-based study of climate change and our response to it, as the title might suggest, you are not going to find that either. But, if you are seeking a beautifully-written argument for changing our behaviors for the benefit of the planet, this book is just what you are seeking.

My husband and I read We are the Weather aloud to each other as part of the community “Reading Together” program  in anticipation of Foer’s visit on March 10. (OMG, was that just a week ago? Feels like a month!) We attended the lecture and finished the book this morning, with a lot of questions and not too many answers. (Actually, his lecture was the last public event we attended.)

What I didn’t realize until we were well into the book was that it is written as a series of essays, divided up into five sections. Primarily, Foer gives a philosophical argument for eating a plant-based diet, at least before dinner. He does this in a methodical way, building his argument step by step. One chapter is extremely powerful—even though it only indirectly talks about climate change. Foer tells the story of a man named Jan Karski, who was a part of the Polish underground. He made his way to the United States in 1943 and finagled a meeting with Supreme Court Justice Felix Frankfurter to tell him of the atrocities happening to the Jews in Europe. After listening to Karski’s story, Frankfurter said that he was “unable to believe what you told me.” Foer concludes: “Frankfurter didn’t question the truthfulness of Karski’s story. Rather he admitted not only is inability to believe the truth but his awareness of that inability.” Foer concludes that the response of most people regarding climate change is much the same. We kind of know that we should be concerned, but there is a part of us that just can’t believe it. In the rest of the book, Foer tries to convince us that it is our duty to act, and one way to do that is to change the way we eat. Chapter by chapter, Foer’s philosophical argument convinces us.

The most cleverly written chapter is an argument that the reluctant Foer has with his soul. It’s a bit hard to read out loud, but it is extremely effective in convincing the reader that the change is up to each of us. Foer’s in person lecture was just as effective as that soul argument. He let it be known that he struggles with his own inaction every day. He says, “We are good at things like calculating the path of a hurricane, and bad at things like deciding to get out of the way.”

Foer’s argument, coming as it did for us in the midst of Covid-19, hit a note. Certainly, we understand with our minds what is happening, it is something that is hard to believe in our souls. Like keeping ourselves secluded from the virus, which we definitely understand, we need to come up with a plan to do our part to reduce our consumption of animal products.

The Kirkus reviewer closes his review by saying, “Foer is not likely to sway climate-change skeptics, but his lucid, patient, and refreshingly short treatise is as good a place to start as any.” I am going to prove by our change in menu that old dogs can learn new tricks. Here is a presentation by Foer at the Philadelphia Library, very similar to what we heard in Kalamazoo.

Where the Sun Will Rise Tomorrow

By Rashi Rohatgi

Galaxy Galloper     2020

270 pages    Historical Fiction

The Shortlist

Here is the book summary:

“It's 1905, and the Japanese victory over the Russians has shocked the British and their imperial subjects. Sixteen-year-old Leela and her younger sister, Maya, are spurred on to wear homespun to show the British that the Indians won't be oppressed for much longer, either, but when Leela's betrothed, Nash, asks her to circulate a petition amongst her classmates to desegregate the girls' school in Chandrapur, she's wary. She needs to remind Maya that the old ways are not all bad, for soon Maya will have to join her own betrothed and his family in their quiet village. When she discovers that Maya has embarked on a forbidden romance, Leela's response shocks her family, her town, and her country firmly into the new century.”

India in the early 1900s is a part of history that I knew very little about, other than a couple of movies—Gandhi, and A Passage to India. I had a vague understanding of the conflict between the Hindu and Muslim cultures of India and Pakistan, a subject dealt with extensively in the book. The two young women are attempting to negotiate life during a volatile time in Indian history. I enjoyed reading about the role of women and how Maya and Leela were attempting to alter history.

I found the novelized history of that time to be fascinating, knowing that the Hindu-Muslim conflict continues in the region. The Kirkus reviewer says, “The novel does an excellent job of placing readers directly into the politics of the time, highlighting the clash between old and new and between the region’s various subcultures.”

I am even more fascinated by the biography of the author Rashi Rohalgi, Wow! I would really like to meet her! She has studied marginalized peoples and lesser-known histories and is a professor of world literature in Norway. You will need to read her biography on her website to get the full picture of her incredible life journey. Here, also, is an interview with her as the book Where the Sun Will Rise Tomorrow was released earlier this week.

Beautiful characters. Beautiful cover. Fans of historical fiction will really enjoy this book.

Roxy

By Esther Gerritsen

Translated by Michele Hutchison

World Editions     2019

188 pages     Literary

We meet Roxy, young wife and mother of a 3-year-old daughter, Louise, just as she finds out that her husband, a famous movie producer, has died in a very compromising situation with his young female intern. Roxy has been with Arthur since she was seventeen—"took a short-cut to adulthood.” Basically, she is still a child in a mother's body.

Roxy is a writer as well as a wife and mother. She had some success with an autobiographical novel, The Trucker’s Daughter, but her next two novels fell flat. There is much she doesn’t understand about herself or her husband, and she had been struggling to hold herself together for her young daughter, even before her husband died.

Her husband’s assistant, Jane, the babysitter, Liza, and Roxy’s parents try to come to the rescue, but Roxy is spiraling out of control. Finally, bizarrely, she decides to take the two women on a road trip with little Louise as a way to start again. The whole road trip experience is shattering for Roxy. The women are critical of her and her parenting, even as they try to remain upbeat and move forward with the plan; her parents try to be helpful, but she doesn’t know how to respond to their renewed interest in her; and Roxy wants to be the best possible mother to Louise, while at the same time behaving recklessly toward her.

It is really hard to like Roxy. Thank goodness the book is short, or I would have strangled her, like Jane and Liza seemingly want to do. At the same time, I couldn’t stop reading. What uncomfortable thing was I going to read next. Ah, well! There is one more totally inexplicable event before the book ends and Roxy somewhat comes to her senses.

Grief is a strange thing. It is a process more than a “thing,” and while Roxy’s behavior is on the far end of strangeness, the sudden catastrophe in her life certainly set her off. My initial interest in the book came from Roxy’s decision to go on a road trip to start anew. I did the same thing when my husband died; my young children and I went on a three-week road trip in an effort to create a new family. Our trip, however, worked out better than Roxy’s. I was a bit older than her, and my husband’s death wasn’t sudden.

Esther Gerritsen is a well-known Dutch author. The Kirkus reviewer calls her style, “deadpan comic,” and occasionally the reader sees glimmers of that humor. That same reviewer, however, closes the review by saying, “A diverting absurdist parable more shocking than memorable.” I guess I would say the same.

Columbus Noir

Edited by Andrew Welsh-Huggins

Akashic Books     2020

284 pages     Noir/Short Stories

Columbus, Ohio, is a city that I know fairly well. My son, his wife, and my grandchildren lived there for several years when the children were young, and I currently have a niece and a nephew who live there, as well. So, the neighborhoods are familiar to me—especially German Village, which houses The Book Loft, one of the largest independent bookstores in the country.

Thus, I approached Columbus Noir, the new edition of the Akashic’s noir series with anticipation. The introduction was very appealing. The book’s editor is a journalist and author, and I really enjoyed his introduction to the idea of the ordinariness of Columbus, a concept that apparently no longer exists. He says, “Those who consider the old Columbus a comfy couch conveniently ignore the guns and knives that were hidden under the pillows.”

The collection contains 14 stories from 14 authors, including Welsh-Huggins. While the stories range in both content and quality, the most common aspects are sex and greed. Of course, some of the stories take place at Ohio State University, the pride of the state and the arch nemesis of the University of Michigan. Two of the stories introduce the reader to The Satin Fox, which must be a notorious strip club.

A story by Daniel Best is a great introduction to the well-known Short North neighborhood, and Welsh-Huggins story concerns the governor and his security guard/driver. The governor is on the short list to be Vice President, and his philandering must be covered up. A great story, by the way.

There is a very good interview with Welsh-Huggins in the Columbus Monthly. About Columbus as a setting for noir fiction, Welsh-Huggins says, “Columbus is the perfect noir package. On the ‘good’ side we have iconic neighborhoods, a diverse population, a strong economy and all our foodie and arts and fashion trend-setting. On the ‘bad’ side we struggle with opioids, street violence and political corruption. To top it off, we have a chip on our shoulders after decades of being looked down upon as ‘Cowtown,’ which sometimes makes us overeager to reach for the stars, with all the light and dark consequences of such striving.”

It's been my pleasure to review several of the Akashic Noir books over the past couple of years, and I have several more coming up. I like them because I am so curious as to the variety of interpretations of the term “noir, “ the variety of settings, and the vast numbers of authors who have contributed.

Here are some of my reviews: Montana Noir, Nairobi Noir, Vancouver Noir, Milwaukee Noir.

Real Life

by Adeline Dieudonné

Translated by Roland Glasser

World Editions    2020

234 pages     Literary

A coming-of-age story about an abusive father, an abused mother, and a protective big sister trying to save her little brother suffering from PTSD after a horrifying tragedy. This is the debut novel from Belgian author, Dieudonné, translated into English after winning several awards in Europe.

The narrator is the young girl who begins the tale at about age 10 and ends when she commits an unspeakable crime at about age 16. The two young children see the ice cream man die in an accident, and Sam, who is about 5 at the time, has a terrible time recovering from the trauma. He retreats to their father's trophy room, which is filled with the spoils of all his hunting trips. It is supposed to be off-limits for the children, and they are both a bit afraid of the room's contents, particularly the hyena. The girl, who remains unnamed, tries to invent a time machine ala "Back to the Future" to whisk the two of them back to the time before the accident, so that Sam can grow up unscarred. Her interest in time travel leads her to a major interest in Physics, and we see the depth of her intelligence.

The narrator is able to describe her life in great and beautiful detail. For example, this is her description of her entry into middle school: "The boys began to chase the girls and the girls played at being women. This whole little world was in effervescence, completely absorbed in the great hormonal muddle. Each person sported the proof of their admission to puberty like a trophy." Sometimes I felt that perhaps her thoughts, her musings, and her observations were way too mature for her purported age, but I enjoyed the brilliance of the writing none-the-less.

This is the third or fourth book I have read recently about parents not being responsible for their children, i.e. the abandonment in The Dutch House and the escape in This Tender Land. One begins to believe that all children suffer greatly in childhood. Even my childhood favorite, The Secret Garden, is about two children treated badly. Real Life is perhaps an extreme example of childhood mistreatment, so that readers who are sensitive to childhood trauma may find this a hard read.

The Kirkus review closes with this analysis: "Dieudonné's startling debut tackles dark themes with grace, wit, and sincerity."  The reviewer calls it “furiously tender.” It will be interesting to see how the author’s career develops. I hope she will be able to move beyond childhood trauma as a theme.

Nobody's Looking at You

By Janet Malcolm

Farrar, Straus and Giroux     2019

289 pages     Essays

I was drawn to Janet Malcolm’s book of essays by its cover. I happened to see the cover and I did a double-take. I know that woman! The picture shows a young woman in ultra-high heels, a dress that hardly covers her body, and a cigarette hanging from her mouth as she sits at a grand piano. She is Yuja Wang, a world-renowned pianist. As a teenager, she was named the Gilmore Young Artist and came to Kalamazoo to perform at the 2006 Gilmore International Keyboard Festival. My volunteer job for that festival was to drive her around, offer her a practice space at my house, and listen to her talk. I have a lot of stories I could tell!

Malcolm’s essay about Wang of course discusses her clothes as well as her career. In this essay, Malcolm helps us to understand this brilliant musician—writing in an impressive style that helps the reader to realize that she is not just any writer; Malcolm tries to really know her subject. Not many musicians would tell their interviewer: “Mozart is like a party animal. I find I play him better when I am hung over or drunk.” I loved what Malcolm did with her interview of Yuja Wang—it was almost like I was with that crazy young woman again.

Each of the interviews in the book has that kind of intimacy. Malcolm really knows her subjects. The title of the book comes from her article about the clothier Eileen Fisher, who told her that her mother emphasized to her that “nobody’s looking at you,” and that she had spent her life trying to hide in plain sight.

Another essay is about a New York antiquarian book store called Argosy and the three sisters, now all in their seventies, who have run the book store since the early nineties. These charming women took over the business from their father, and Malcolm does a deep dive into the antique book business by spending a considerable amount of time with the sisters. While I was reading this essay, I happened upon an article about a movie about the antique book business, and the Argosy bookstore is going to be in the movie. Called The Booksellers, the promo says that the movie will "takes viewers inside their small but fascinating world, populated by an assortment of obsessives, intellects, eccentrics and dreamers."

Then there is the long and important essay about Rachel Maddow, which I really loved because I watch Maddow several times a week. I think she is brilliant, and Malcolm is equally brilliant about how she gets inside Maddow’s mind and heart.

Nobody’s Looking at You  was the first book by Janet Malcolm that I had read, although I had read several of her essays in the New Yorker. All of the fourteen essays in the book have appeared in other publications. I was so impressed by how she interjected herself into all the stories, making her a very revealing author. She has really lived these interviews—they were not a chore, but they were the “substance of a lived life,” in the words of the New York Times book reviewer.