Recidivist

Has it really been since February that I posted?  Wow.  It's not that I haven't been reading.  It's just that I'm not posting.  So, only quick summaries/reflections.

Blue Hole Back Home, by Joy Jordan-Lake.  It's rather cool to know, I mean, really know, the author of a book, and I do know Joy.  I should have read this book sooner, but I'm glad that I did.  The story is loosely based on places and settings from Joy's childhood in the South.  It addresses the provincial nature of small rural areas and the reaction of the kids when a new girl from Sri Lanka, moves to a back-water burg.  She's brave; she's interesting; but she's different.  The group that "Turtle" runs with come to accept her, but not everyone is so welcoming.  There are plenty of hints that the tension caused by the new, "dark-skinened" girl is going to come to a head.  And it does, and tragically so.  America at its worst--and best. 

Ulltimately, it does not leave one with the warm fuzzy feeling of childhood reminiscences.  Rather, it is a reminder of the not-so-distant ugly past--much of the book is set in 1979, which would have been shortly after I graduated from high school.

Perhaps the only criticism I have is that in some respects, I had a hard time fully relating.  As a Sri Lankan, Sanna clearly had her challenges.  Perhaps it's small-minded of me, but I can't help but think that she would never have been accepted by the "mangy pack" had she been Black.  I suppose there's a vein of resentment that foreigners generally are better accepted than African-Americans, but that's something for me to work on.  It was time well-spent.


Every Patient Tells a Story, by Lisa Sanders.  Sanders is a consultant to the TV series House.  That, of course, was a selling point for this book.  Her premise is that doctors who listen to their patients are likely to provide better service--not exactlyearth-shattering.  However, she does make the case that in many ways, the medical profession has become so enamored with the bells and whistles of technology that the patient is almost secondary to medical care, and that something is lost when physicians fail to listen carefully to their patients to obtain context about their various symptoms.  She recounts a series of vignettes--as most of these kinds of books do--to illustrate her points.  The most memorable story involved the pot-smoker who was suffering all sorts of problems with nausea and dizzyness because of her chronic use of weed.  She, like probably most of us, had never heard of the maladies that some chronic users suffer.  Her view:  she knew people who smoked more pot than she who suffered no issues.  Hence, she disappeared into obscurity, having left the hospital.

Not a bad book.

The Winds of War, by Herman Wouk.  The best thing I can say about this book is that I have a better understanding of the lead-up to America's entry into World War II.  The second-best thing that I can say about this book is that it had a mildly entertaining story.  However, it is one of those stories where all the characters seem to be in harm's way but generally escape with little or no scars to show for it.  Only one character suffers any bodily injury, while in Warsaw, chasing after a girl that he ultimately marries.   It's not that I want bad things to happen to characters, but rather that it detracts from the reality of the story that the various characters could lead such charmed lives while being at every crucial event in the run-up to Pearl Harbor.  Indeed, they're all in Hawaii.  The ship that Pug was to captain is sunk, and he's distressed by that, but other than that, all is well.  Even his wife, who has a brief affair, is ready to resume her wifely duties. 

To add insult to injury, the book has one of those irresolute endings.  It ends with Pearl Harbor.  What happens to the characters thereafter is left for the sequel.  It is the "winds of war" that are addressed by this book, not the war itself, but no thanks to the sequel.

Sacre Bleu, by Christopher Moore

What does one do when her son gives her a book for Mother's Day?  Why, read it of course.  BoilerBaby 2 and I both became fans of Christopher Moore with our respective readings of "A Dirty Job."  In this book, Moore continues to display his character of a very well-read, well-educated 13 year-old, masquerading as a grown man.  On the one hand, Sacre Bleu builds its story around the art world during the time of Talousse-Latrec, when impressionists ruled.  On the other hand, Moore writes like an adolescent who giggles with his buddies about "bonking" and other such things.  Ultimately, that's what makes this book engaging.  As I reader, I could indulge my inner child while still feeling like I was reading a very weighty book and learning about Monet, Manet, Seurat, and others.  And I did learn something:  blue was apparently a very expensive pigment to obtain.  Only the wealthiest could afford to commission or purchase paintings that contained blue.

The protagonist of the story is Bleu, a muse who has lived for time immemorial with The Color Man, who inspires artists to paint with the blue pigment she and the Color Man concoct, which then provides their means of immortality.  But somebody has to pay.  Somebody always has to pay, in the form of death. 

The story is wacky, silly, and gave me the speech I plan to use with my children's significant others.  Glad I could read this book.

Reading: The First 20 Minutes
Listening: 11-22-63
Given up: Russka
The Red Queen