Bright Island (Retro Reads!)

Bright Island
Mabel Robinson
Random House
2012 (re-issue of 1937 copy)
Newbery Honor


I really appreciate it when publishers re-issue older books. The market isn't as wide, no doubt, for these old-fashioned favorites, but they're worth reading and keeping in print. Bright Island is a great example; the 75th anniversary edition hits stores this month.

One of my favorite books growing up was Ruth Sawyer's Roller Skates (another 1930's Newbery title); Bright Island reminds me of that same type of old-fashioned fiction. It's historical fiction now, but was written as a contemporary title. Thus, it's a great picture into another world. In Bright Island, our heroine, one Thankful Curtis, has grown up island bound and can sail as good as anyone. She can do just about anything she puts her mind to, and has no intention of putting her mind to going to school on the mainland. Homeschooled all her life by her capable mother (of Scots descent!), Thankful does indeed end up finishing school at an elite boarding school on the mainland despite her dread.

Wonder

Wonder
R. J. Palacio
Alfred A. Knopf
2012

This book has heart: real, unadulterated "heart" without being preachy, cheesy, or dumb. And that, I like. I like very much. I love that a book this length (close to 300 pages) is so readable and will really appeal to the middle school audience it's geared for. And I love that this book emphasizes kindness. In fact, the "point" of the whole book reminds me of another book I cherish; I keep hearing Atticus Finch tell Scout in my mind, "You can't judge a person until you walk a mile in his skin." Only, in Wonder, we'd have to change that to, "in his face."

You see, the main character of this book is a kid named August, Auggie for short, who was born with severe facial abnormalities (including, but most certainly above and beyond, a cleft palate; his entire face and ears have been affected--grotesquely). And Auggie is 10 when the book opens, having survived more surgeries and treatments and therapies than most of us will ever experience, and is about to go to school for the first time. Think back with me, if you will, to your own middle school experience. Now imagine going to middle school, to a NEW school, for the first time with a completely disfigured face. Uh-huh. You get the picture.

What this book does well is partly the way everyone can relate to Auggie, disfigured face or not. Palacio captures that essence of middle school (everyone's looking at me, everyone's talking about me, if I don't talk with the right people/sit with the right people I won't be popular, some parents are as mean and cutthroat as their kids, teachers are still nice and I like them even if it's not "cool" to hang out with them, and... I still need my mom and dad even though they're not cool either). Remember those feelings? Auggie suffers more than I certainly ever did, and I found myself feeling convicted over and over again for the ways in which I've reacted to people who are obviously handicapped or different looking; there are also plenty of times, I'm ashamed to admit, when I wasn't as nice as I should have been to someone because I was afraid of what others might think. One of the strengths of this novel is the way those ordinary feelings and experiences are thrown into such sharp relief because they're dramatized through Auggie's experiences.

But Palacio doesn't stop there. She gives us the dynamics behind the scenes. We get to hear from Auggie's sister Via and see what being a sibling of a special needs kid might be like. We hear from his best friend after a stupid betrayal (haven't we all been guilty of saying things to impress people--even if they're mean and untrue?). We hear from another friend of Auggie's, Via's boyfriend, a longtime friend of the family. These other points of view are well done, I think.

The ending is a bit warm and fuzzy in some senses, but it's completely believable given what has transpired throughout the course of the book. Stuff happens to Auggie. Some of it's heart-breaking, and some is heart-warming. Chapters are short, the plot kicks off right at the beginning, and there are not too many pithy, "poignant" statements. Myriad references to contemporary culture as well as a nice sprinkling of middle school humor make this a book kids today will pick up and read easily. And, hopefully, they'll appreciate Auggie's story and the points at the end regarding that simplest of virtues: kindness. And, hopefully, they'll be reading this book around someone with whom they can discuss real kindness, the source of our ability to be kind and the reasons why should be kind in the first place.

Advance review copy from netgalley; cover image from goodreads

Things to Note/Discuss

• You can hardly miss this point if you even read the summary of this novel, but it's worth pointing out just in case! How do we judge other people before (and even after) we know them?
• How do the misunderstandings between friends happen in this book? Could they have been prevented? If so, how? 
• What is the hardest thing you've ever done in order to be friends (or stay friends) with someone?
• Why should we be kind to people? (Auggie's story gives new emphasis to what it really means to be made in the image of God, doesn't it?) Who gives us this ability? (You might consider such verses as, "Be ye kind, one to another, just as God, for Christ's sake, has forgiven us")
• What are ways you can encourage people you know? people in your classes? Can you think of people who might need an extra does of encouragement or kindness?
• A great parallel book to this is A View from Saturday by E. L. Konigsburg in which a teacher is handicapped and students are kind to her and to each other.

Barbara Kingsolver: Southern Writer

I mentioned a while back that I wanted to do a small series on Southern writers. Better late than never at fulfilling that goal, I suppose. Barbara Kingsolver is a terrific place to start, partly because her recent book Animal, Vegetable, Miracle is causing many people to rethink what we eat--and is often read by people who read In Defense of Food by Michael Pollan (see my review). Both books are hot topics right now. I plan to write a separate review for A, V, M because it is not a novel like the others of Kingsolver's I've read; as such, it doesn't fit the characteristics of Southern fiction I outlined in my earlier post on the subject.

Bio on Kingsolver
Before I jump into Kingsolver's works and examine them, a brief bio on the author herself might help those unfamiliar with her works and background. She is married to Steven Hopp, an environmental sciences professor, has two daughters, and lives in Virginia (she was born in the Southeast as well). She has a traveled extensively, lived in Arizona for a time, and also has pursued degrees in such scientific areas as evolutionary biology. For more information, see here.

Some Literary Analysis
I have not read all of Kingsolver's works, but I've read enough to be fairly conversant with her style and themes. She fits into the characteristics I outlined earlier for Southern fiction nicely. I'll break them down below, using examples from Kingsolver's work. If you are unfamiliar with her work, see here for some summaries and excerpts. I will focus on The Poisonwood Bible, The Bean Trees, and Prodigal Summer.

First, Southern novels and short stories tend to showcase the protagonist(s) relationships and conflicts with family, tradition and culture, and the land. Kingsolver is no exception here; her massive tome The Poisonwood Bible is full of this very subject matter. A minister, his wife, and their four daughters head to the Congo as missionaries. The women narrate the story in turns, and each individual story line is rife with analysis of the minister in his various roles as husband, father, and minister/missionary. They also reflect on their relationships with each other. The traditions and culture of the Congo form a central staging for conflict, and all five women spend much time reflecting on the differences between the Congo and their American home as well as the differences in themselves over time as a response to the cultural transition they're undergoing. Two girls elect to stay in Africa when their time as missionaries comes to a close, but for very different reasons. All of the women react to Africa significantly--the land itself as well as its cultural stage. In The Bean Trees, the entire narrative centers around Taylor's new relationships in the Southwest, particularly the three-year-old "Turtle" who becomes her companion. Prodigal Summer rotates between three different storylines: an older, crotchety couple who live next door to each other, a young newly wed couple, and a woman scientist who is trying to live as a hermit (but doesn't succeed). This novel is sexually charged partly because Kingsolver draws so much of the natural world's life cycle into the narrative. Everying from flowers to animals to people becomes part of the great life cycle going on.

Second, Southern authors showcase the rich tradition, especially present in the Appalachias, of storytelling. Kingsolver is an expert storyteller and her books are sheer pleasure to read as a result. The characters in her book don't tell stories as an event (like some of Lee Smith's characters), but the books read much like a storyteller would tell them.

Third, these Southern works are almost always intergenerational; that is, several generations are involved in the story. Poisonwood Bible, as mentioned above, revolves around the relationships between parents and children; The Bean Trees, similarly, centers on Taylor's relationship with Turtle--not a biological connection, but very similar to mother and child.

Fourth, Southern works focus on personal struggles; these are frequently somewhat depressing in nature which is why I have to take a break every now and then! These struggles include everything from family tension, racial issues, identity crises, and the like. Taylor's story in Bean Trees is full of struggle--the very reason she ends up in the Southwest is because she's leaving her old life to strike out on her own.

My Evaluation/Critique in a Nutshell
Kingsolver is a true Southern author--one of the best. Her writing is lyrical, rooted in the natural world, brimming over with humanity. Her work is a delight to read partly because of her gift with words. I highly recommend reading her works, but would also caution readers that she has a definite agenda. Her books often carry post-colonial thought (white men are bad because they took over and ruined places like Africa during colonial expansion). Her books are very evolutionary friendly; Prodigal Summer is a prime example of this. It's a wonderful book to read in some respects--particularly if you enjoy nature and nature writing. However, it's full of evolutionary subtexts. And, of course, we don't take our human relationship standards from fiction--Taylor's story in Bean Trees is a good example of why! So, if you're looking for a truly talented author to read, check out Kingsolver, but read with a critical mind, as always!

Sue Monk Kidd: The Secret Life of Bees

Currently drinking Twinings' Earl Gray--good if you get a fresh box.

Sue Monk Kidd is a relatively new Southern writer. The Secret Life of Bees (Bees) (2002) is her first work of fiction, a work that has been a tremendous success by all secular accounts. On the New York Times Bestseller list for more than 2 years, it has been chosen by countless book clubs.

Kidd herself sums up the novel with the word "Homecoming," although many other reviews usually describe this novel as a coming of age story. In fact, Kidd's web page describes it as such: "powerful story of coming-of- age, race-relations, the ability of love to transform our lives and the often unacknowledged longing for the universal feminine divine, the novel tells the story of a fourteen year old Lily, who runs away with her black housekeeper in 1964 in South Carolina and the sanctuary they both find in the home of three eccentric beekeeping sisters."

There is no doubt that Kidd has genuine talent; my favorite feature, if you will, of the novel is Kidd's amazing characterization of Lily, Rosaleen (her black housekeeper and surrogate mother), Zach (a young black boy), and the three bee-keeping sisters (August, May, and June). I found myself continuing to read long after the plot ceased being appealing simply because I was enjoying the time with these quirky characters. As is typical of much Southern fiction, SLB centers on the relationships the protagonist has with these characters and her father, T. Ray; there is racial tension and reconciliation, intergenerational angst, and spiritual connection between characters.

The plot of Bees felt a bit contrived for me, like Kidd was trying too hard. If Kidd wasn't such a talented author on the characterization and setting front, then the book would fall flat. On the surface, it's rather typical of most coming-of-age stories: girl's mother dies when she's little, father is mean, she runs away and "finds herself" in a new group of people/vocation. The end.

What Kidd does, though, that makes this plot jump off the predictability diving board and land, with a large splash, into the pool of "out there" is her emphasis on the divine feminine. The motif of the Black Madonna is present almost from the beginning of the novel; a picture of her is one of Lily's only mementos of her late mother. The quest to find this Black Madonna, hoping it will be a clue to her mother's life, is partly what drives Lily throughout the book. The bee keepers are the source of the picture as they put this picture on all the labels of the honey they make. But it's more than that: they have a black figurehead from a ship that they worship (no other word for it, really), they have a group called the Daughters of Mary, and they talk about Mary all the time. The idea of the divine feminine is so pervasive in this book, it's inescapable. It's a little too much for me to really enjoy the book. What I found so especially disturbing was the conclusion at the end of the book.

(Spoiler Alert)
I'm glad Kidd refused the temptation to make things end perfectly for Lily; her mother was indeed a sinner like the rest of us. Lily herself has committed a large atrocity/crime. Yet, for August to tell Lily that the answer lies within herself (within Lily) was the nail in the coffin for this book for me. The answer does not lie in ourselves. We, in and of ourselves, are not strong enough to meet all of life's demands. Kidd goes one step further from this typical sentiment and claims that Mary is in each of us, helping us to live better.

Kidd has written other books, most notably in its connection to the philosophy and theology behind Bees, is her earlier nonfiction work, The Dance of the Dissident Daughter. I'll end with the summary of this book as written on her website: "With the exceptional storytelling skills that have helped make her name, the acclaimed author ... tells her very personal story of the fear, anger, healing, and freedom she experienced on the path toward the wholeness that women have lost within patriarchal faith traditions. From a jarring encounter with sexism in a suburban drugstore, to monastery retreats and to rituals in the caves of Crete, she reveals a new level of feminine spiritual consciousness for all women— one that retains a meaningful connection with the “deep song of Christianity,” embraces the sacredness of ordinary women’s experience, and has the power to transform in the most positive ways every fundamental relationship in a woman’s life— her marriage, her career, and her religion."

Year of Wonders by Geraldine Brooks

Currently drinking Ugandan tea which my parents brought back for me from a recent trip. mmmm

Year of Wonders by Geraldine Brooks is a troubling book for me to review. Perhaps because I read it so close on the heels of Stepping Heavenward, the portrayal of the protagonist's struggle with her faith during a year of unimaginable struggle, trial, and loss left something to be desired.

YOW is a riveting, historical fictive account of a small English village during 1665-1666 that chooses to isolate itself in order to prevent spreading the Plague to neighboring cities and towns. (There really was such a town: Eyam.) The rector and his wife, along with Anna Frith, the protagonist, are the backbone of support, care, and faith for the other villagers as they quickly lose two thirds of their number. Brooks does an excellent job of keeping the suspense going throughout the book while giving the reader a feel for the slow pace of life a 17th century village might have.

During their struggle with the Plague, the villagers struggle profoundly with faith, superstition, ignorance, and loyalty to one another. Terrible things happen. Redemption is brought about. People live and die. But, here is where Brooks fails me as an author.... (the ending will be revealed in the next paragraph, so stop reading if you plan to read the book!)

Brooks is a secular author who has spent quite a bit of time as a foreign correspondent in the Middle East as well as much time researching this book in England. Therefore, it should have been no surprise to me that a book which has a strong feminist undercurrent should, in the end, place the protagonist in a setting that shows a female triumphing over her circumstances; I have no problems with that necessarily. That the rector is proven to be a complete hypocrite, and Anna ends up finding comfort and meaning in an Islamic community on the Mediterranean seemed to me to undermine so much of the struggle these people when through during a real time in history. I truly can't imagine watching my husband and two children die, my friends die, my neighbors turn against each other, and finally have to run for my life. Yet, I'd like to think I would face these trials more as Katy (Stepping Heavenward) did, turning to Christ in all of them, than as Anna did--left only holding out a vague hope of something better at the end. Up until the last couple of chapters, this book was a terrific read, very educational as well as enjoyable. Brooks gave in to modern society's preference for faiths other than the true one and its interest in strong female characters that can raise children without a loving husband.