The Book Woman of Troublesome Creek

By Kim Michele Richardson

Sourcebooks     2019

308 pages     Literary

The most important aspect of an historical novel is the research that goes into it. Richardson has done an incredible job in creating an historical novel that is both creative and meticulously researched. It is the story of a young woman in 1930s Kentucky Appalachia. My book club read it this month and we had a lively discussion last week.

Cussy Mary, a young single woman, lives in the hills and hollers of Kentucky during the 1930s. She has applied and been accepted as a pack horse librarian, which was a job for women, sponsored by the WPA. Her job is to deliver books by horseback to the people on an established route in her mountain neighborhood. She knows her readers well and works very hard to find the materials that her clients want—everything from the classics to magazines to newspapers, many weeks old by the time they get to Cussy. She makes her way through the mountains on a mule named Junia, who is both her protector and best friend as well as the carrier of the library materials Cussy carries.

What distinguishes Cussy Mary from other young women of the area is her color. She is one of the last of the Blue People of Kentucky. This was a clan of blue-tinged people that had populated the area for several generations. They have hidden in the hills because they have been ridiculed and shunned and classified as inbreds, which they were not. Thank goodness for Google, because I had never heard of the blue people, but when I read up on it, I discovered that this aspect of the story line was remarkably true.

It would appear that Cussy (or Bluet, as she was called by her clients) had more than three strikes against her, but she is strong and feisty, and she prevails. She loves her job and takes pride in the help that she offers her clients. People rely on her to read stories to them, bring them news from the outside world, and even provide food if necessary. Her work is a testament to the power of reading and books.

There’s a lot of heartbreak in The Book Woman of Troublesome Creek, not just for Cussy Mary and her father, a miner, but also for the people in the hills. The description of life is remarkable, thanks to the skilled writing of Richardson. Here is one paragraph. “I found the tiny cabin stitched into a mountain, tarred with black pine and stingy sunlight. In the yard, two crows drank from mud puddles. Overhead, more cawed before dropping down to scar the yard. Two sick chickens peeked around the corner of the cabin, their combs and wattles festered with the fowl pox. A rawboned dog dozed on the crumbling porch. Junia snorted, and the pup raised its mangy body and flattened its flea-bitten ears before slinking off.” Inside, Cussy finds her favorite child client, Henry, and his siblings suffering from pellagra, and Henry is dying.

One reviewer says that Richardson doesn’t “pull punches when it comes to describing the hardscrabble lives of the hill people.” Yet, I considered the descriptions to be fairly realistic, contrasted, as they were, with great moments of hope and kindness. I do have to say that the ending is quite abrupt, and we are not allowed enough time to enjoy the happiness that Cussy Mary finds as she discovers true love and her life moves on to another level. The only weakness I found in a totally engrossing book.

This is a terrific review in bookreporter.com.  Kim Michele Richardson’s website. It looks like she has a follow-up book about Cussy’s daughter, Honey, called The Book Woman’s Daughter. It arrives next May.

I can highly recommend The Book Woman of Troublesome Creek. I especially enjoyed the pictures of the Kentucky Pack Horse librarians that come at the end of the book. 

The Paris Library

 By Janet Skeslien Charles

Atria     2021

368 pages     Historical Fiction

The Paris Library is the librarian’s dream book—a young librarian saves the world with books! With the Dewey Decimal System thrown in. Well, not exactly, but sort of. Honestly, it is much more than that. The book deals with a little-known aspect of World War II in France; its impact on the arts and culture of the city.

Odile Souchet is a young woman who has just gotten a job at the American Library in Paris. The library is one of the centers of American culture in Paris and the gathering spot for American scholars and researchers as well as American families living in the city. After the invasion, Jews are not allowed to enter the library, so Odile and the other librarians send books to the Allied troops stationed around France and sneak books to their Jewish patrons, an obvious act of resistance. When she realizes that her father and other police officers are putting the city’s Jewish population into internment camps, she feels confused and betrayed. Especially by Paul, her fiancé, who is a police officer as well. She does everything she can to continue to serve her patrons and save them from capture. As the war ends, Paul is involved in one final, major act of betrayal which causes Odile to forsake everything and escape Paul, her family, and the library that has given her strength.

Juxtaposed with this story line is the story of Lily, a teenager living in small-town Montana in 1983 and yearning for a bigger life. Odile is her elderly, reclusive neighbor. Lily wonders how this French woman ever got to Montana and sets out to understand her story. The friendship the two form ends up being healing for both of them and moves the story forward in unexpected ways. It, in itself, is a lovely story.

Just recently, I read of some art work that was hidden from the Nazis and recently recovered. So, reading about the hiding of first editions of classic literature and the defiance of librarians was not unexpected. I have always maintained that librarians are among the champions of the rights of the people, and it was affirmative for me to read of these women and men and their fight to protect the library, its books, and its patrons.

The author, Janet Charles, was the program manager at the American Library when she started to hear the stories of the resistance and the brave librarians at the American Library. This caused her to do a great deal of meticulous research into these brave souls, many of whom are portrayed in context, although Odile is the creation of the author. Additionally, the author grew up in small-town Montana so she understands well Lily’s need to move into a bigger world.

The Library Journal has a very astute look at the library and the librarians who appear in the novel. The article talks about Miss Reeder, the director of the library, who appears in the novel, all the books that they delivered, and with Dr. Fuchs, the Nazi “Library Protector” who appeared off and on to inspect the library. Additionally, the author has included on her website some of the research she used in developing the novel. There are pictures, newspaper articles, and reports. It really resonates.

The Kirkus review concludes that The Paris Library is a “novel tailor-made for those who cherish books and libraries.” Although there are a monumental number of World War II books out and about these days, The Paris Library deserves readers’ attention. 

 

 

The Library Book

By Susan Orlean

Simon and Schuster     2018

336 pages     Nonfiction

I will just start out by saying quite flatly, The Library Book is the best book I have read this year. More than just an exploration of the fire that destroyed the Los Angeles Public Library in 1986, Susan Orlean’s newest book, The Library Book, is a love story about libraries, librarians, and books.

Susan Orlean had just recently moved to the Los Angeles area when she learned about the library fire that had happened decades ago. She had decided that with this move, she was done with writing books—too long, too hard. “Working on them felt like a slow-motion wrestling match.” Yet, she became so intrigued with the fire that she couldn’t stand not getting involved. And her narrative encompasses not just the fire, but the history of the Los Angeles Public Library, one of the first major library systems in the country, as well as the challenges libraries across the country face in the 21^st century.

There are a lot of stories being told. There are Orlean’s reminiscences about growing up reading and combing the library stacks as a young girl with her mother. There are the stories about the people who directed the Los Angeles library through its history. There are details about the fire and how it spread. There are interviews with many librarians, patrons, and the security guard. She even explored the life of Harry Peak, the young man who was accused of starting the fire, although he was never charged with the crime.

One of my favorite quotes from the book: “Libraries may embody our notion of permanence, but their patrons are always in flux. In truth, a library is as much a portal as it is a place—it is a transit point, a passage.” This type of philosophical pondering fills the pages and echoes what I have always felt about libraries. The book filled me with remembrance of the two Carnegie libraries of my childhood and youth in Little Falls and  Duluth Minnesota—particularly of the marble stairways leading up to the treasure trove of magic—of Laura Ingalls Wilder and Louisa May Alcott and on and on and on. It reminded me of my career choice of being a children’s librarian and how much I loved story time and reading precious picture books to rapt audiences of children. It also reminded me of how busy the Kalamazoo Public Library is, the tremendous number of activities that go on there daily, and the sheer number of people who walk through the doors every day. For example, this morning I booked an appointment to the free legal clinic for a friend. The library has always been a portal for me, and Orlean expands on that sense of discovery in every way possible.

Most of all, thankfully, The Library Book is an ode to the public library and its place in the lives of the patrons and the communities in which they reside. Orlean says, “The library is a gathering pool of narratives and of the people who come to find them. It is where we can glimpse immortality. In the library, we can live forever.” Susan Orlean has a marvelous article about growing up in the library in The New Yorker, where she is a frequent contributor.

Here are a few of my favorite books about libraries: The World’s Strongest Librarian; This Book is Overdue;  and The Badass Librarians of Timbuktu. Here is also where you can find an essay I wrote several years ago about public libraries.

The Library Book is narrative non-fiction at its best.  Go to your closest library and check it out. You will love it as much as I did.

The World's Strongest Librarian

by Josh Hanagarne

Gotham    2013

288 p.     Memoir

I can see it now. The librarian is doing her best to hand sell the book, The World's Strongest Librarian.: "Well, it's a memoir by a  6'7" Mormon librarian who lifts weights and has Tourette Syndrome."  Uh-huh! That's going to sell it! 

In the past three years, I have read and blogged about more than 30 memoirs, but reading Josh Hanagarne's inspiring story makes me want to know him, and not just his story. It is my favorite book thus far this year. I was compelled to read Josh's story (can I call him Josh--I feel like I know him so well) when I noticed the structure of the book.  He uses Dewey library classification numbers to outline what he is going to discuss in each chapter. Then he tells a disgustingly humorous incident from his library work followed by narrative from his life story. It is poignant. It is extremely funny.  Somehow it all fits together into a splendid whole.

My knowledge of Tourette Syndrome is limited. I once had a second grade student who we feared had Tourettes, but he moved on to a special school and we never saw him again. Josh describes his condition thus: "One of the reasons I work here (the library) is because I have extreme Tourette Syndrome. The kind with verbal tics, sometimes loud ones, the kind that draws warning looks. Working in this library is the ultimate test for someone who literally can't sit still. Who can't shush himself. A test of willpower, of patience, and occasionally, of the limits of human absurdity." So as we read along, we learn all about Tourette Syndrome, how it was diagnosed in Josh, and the extreme measures he has developed to cope with it. That in itself is reason to read the book. But the book is not another disease memoir. 

My knowledge of the Mormon faith is also limited. I learned a great deal about Mormonism from reading about Josh's upbringing, his mission, his wife's faith, and his questions. This I especially appreciated, because I have come to realize that questioning is part of religious belief, and frankly, I like to read about people who don't just blindly follow a religious path. He writes about his questions and the peace he has made with his lack of "religious" faith, although he continues to exhibit a great deal of "spiritual" faith.

I didn't know much about bodybuilding and absolutely nothing about kettle bells, which Josh took up to try to alleviate the stress of the Tourette Syndrome. I am all for finding natural ways to alleviate debilities if at all possible, and I was interested in learning about how bodybuilding helped him. I loved the story about his going to work out with a famous bodybuilder in North Dakota. Darkly funny.

One thing I do know a lot about is family, and I particularly enjoyed reading about Josh's wonderful family. His gracious understanding of how important family is to him is evident throughout the book, but especially as he struggles with his Mormon faith. Mormons believe that family will be together throughout eternity, and makes his struggle with religion all the more dramatic.

Most of all, I know about libraries. I loved all the reasons why Josh became a librarian and why he stays a public librarian. A woman recently told me that her husband doesn't like to go to our wonderful public library because there are so many homeless people there. Josh talks about the reasons why the library serves ALL the population of the community. Some of the stories are hysterically funny and some are thought provoking. My favorite is about how Josh came upon a drunk vomiting in a waste can in the library stacks. He asks if he can help him to the bathroom. The drunk responds, "No. I'm fine here!" I could just see it happening. Another favorite is when he was asked why the books about religion weren't in the fiction section of the library. That was one question I had never thought of. I was reminded again of how librarians are among the greatest spokespeople for freedom of speech. He says, "If you believe censorship is poison, here lies paradise. We have sections on anti-Mormonism, anti-Semitism, anti-anti-Semitism, anti-atheism, anti-god, anti-feminism, pro gay . . . there's something to offend everybody."

 Josh Hanagarne's story, The World's Strongest Librarian, is totally unique. You have never read this story before. To say that it is inspiring is not to do it justice, because it is complex and utterly human. I could just go on and on. Thank you Josh for telling your story. I have been moved and inspired. One reviewer said, “Everything about this book is big: certainly it is the story of a 6′ 7″ librarian with Tourette’s, but it is also the quest for how we know, how we feel, and how we love… without reservation. I found it impossible to put down; save a day to read this.”

Good review in Shelf Awareness: http://www.shelf-awareness.com/max-issue.html?issue=46#m95

Josh Hanagarne's website:  http://worldsstrongestlibrarian.com/ He also has a book club that he runs from his website.

This is the video introduction to the book. You can meet Josh Hanagarne here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lnlYOa1_f4M