We’re switching gears again with our book for April. Gone Girl, by Gillian Flynn is a thriller that will keep you up at night with its twists and turns. On the morning of their fifth wedding anniversary, Nick’s beautiful, enigmatic wife Amy goes missing. Nick begins acting strangely as all eyes turn to him as the prime suspect. He may be acting strangely, but is he really a killer? This book will have you questioning how well you really know anyone you love.

Can’t wait to discuss this on April 25.

“Our lives begin to end the day we become silent about things that matter.”
― Martin Luther King, Jr., who lost his life to an assassin 45 years ago today.

We have 5 weeks to read this one, lots of time to pass it around!

Baking Cakes in Kigali is a tale in fourteen confections, and behind each cake lies a story. As baker Angel Tungaraza busies herself with her customers’ orders, we learn about their lives: Ken Akimoto – with his penchant for partying, her best client – and Bosco, his lovesick driver; Dr. Rejoice, without whom she’d never cope with the hot flashes that send her delving into her brassiere for a handkerchief so often these days; Odile, an AIDS worker whose love life Angel has taken a keen interest in; and not forgetting young Leocadie, Modeste, and their baby boy, Beckham. Angel works her magic, solving problems for all around her; and in turn, they help her lay her own demons to rest: perhaps she can finally face the truth about the loss of her own son and daughter, and achieve a sense of peace . . .

Hauntingly charming, funny, and involving, Baking Cakes in Kigali is a novel about the real meaning of reconciliation – about how, in the aftermath of tragedy, life goes on and people still manage to find reasons to celebrate. (Courtesy, Indigo Books)

Every man has his secret sorrows which the world knows not; and often times we call a man cold when he is only sad.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

February 27, 1807: Henry Wadsworth Longfellow’s greatest achievement? Becoming the first American writer to earn a living from royalties!

For this month’s read, we decided on a non-fiction pick.  David Finch’s memoir chronicles his diagnosis of Asperger’s Syndrome at the age of 30 and has just come out in paperback. Determined to save his marriage, David embarks on a mission to become a better husband and father. The result is an obsession with performance reviews and note-taking – a Journal of Best Practices.

It promises to be an interesting discussion. Our next meeting is October 25. 

“The best you can hope for in a relationship is to find
someone whose flaws are the sort you don’t mind. It is
futile to look for someone who has no flaws, or someone who is capable of significant change; that sort of person exists only in our imaginations.”
― Scott Adams, God’s Debris: A Thought Experiment

Alice Love is 29 years old, expecting her first child, madly in love with her husband Nick, and proud owner of a ramshackle fixer-upper. Except she’s not.  After waking up from a whack on the head during a spin class (spin class? What exactly is a “spin class”?), she finds she’s almost 40 – a skinny, volunteering, momzilla to three, nearly divorced and the owner of a beautifully restored period home. The last ten years are lost to her, and she’s trying to hobble together a picture of the woman she’s become. A woman she discovers she doesn’t like very much.

“Had she turned into a hussy?  A point-making hussy who went to the gym and upset her beloved sister and hosted ‘Kindegarten Cocktail Parties’? She hated the person she’d become. The only good part was the clothes.”

We found Alice to be a believeable and sympathetic character. We laughed with her and grieved with her and learned with her. The book was well-paced, keeping us interested and puzzled, along with Alice, as we tried to guess at how exactly Old Alice had transformed into New Alice. We found we all rushed through the last few pages of the book as the picture came into focus, and we understood, finally, all the perspectives of the characters we had been following throughout the story.

For all that we expected this book to be a light summer read , it was surprising that it did linger with us long after we had finished it. In an unobtrusive way, it made us stop and think; What were we like a decade ago? What were our dreams? Did we have children yet? How did we imagine our lives – ourselves, our children – in the future, when we were 20-something? What could we picture and what has happened to us in the ensuing years that we could have never imagined? Oh my God – are we still kind to our spouses?

“There just wasn’t enough time in 2008. It had become a limited resource.  Back in 1998, the days were so much more spacious.  Whe she woke up in the morning, the day rolled out in front of her like a long hallway for her to meander down, free to linger over the best parts. Days were so stingy now. Mean slivers of time. They flew by like speeding cars.  Whoosh! When she was pulling back the blankets to into bed each night, it felt as if only seconds ago she’d been throwing them off to get up.”

We have all had experiences in the last ten years that have profoundly shaped us.  Children of course, have a tendency to do that to people, but it was for many of us, also the various ways in which those children came to be in our lives, and how their experiences have shaped and changed us. Like Alice, many of us have experienced huge losses that we could have never predicted, nor could we have predicted how we navigated our way through them, or how they would alter our view of the world. At the same time, we found ourselves thinking about how it’s not just those big, life-altering events that change us, it is also the daily drip-drip-drip of tiny, unremarkable things that pile up over time until when we finally do find the time or the occasion to look back, we realize their collective impact has been as significant as those lightening-strike moments.

When Alice finally gets her memory back at the end of the book, in one quick rush, we gain an entirely new perspective on who Alice had become.  We finally understand her anger at Nick, her friendship with Gina, her relationship with her sister Elizabeth, and with each of her children. Before the return of her memory, like Alice, we couldn’t understand how a love like the one between her and Nick could go so far off the rails.  Afterwards, we said, “Ah, yes, of course.  I understand now. Of course it wasn’t just a few cherries off the fruit platter.”

“It wasn’t just that her memories of the last ten years were back.  It was that her true self, as formed by those ten years, was back.  As seductive as it might have been to erase the grief and pain of the last ten years, it was also a lie.  Young Alice was a fool.  A sweet, innocent fool.  Young Alice hadn’t experienced ten years of living….Now it seemed she could twist the lens on her life and see it from two entirely different perspectives.  The perspective of her younger self. Her younger, sillier, innocent self. And her older, wiser, more cynical and sensible self. 

And maybe sometimes, Young Alice had a point.”

Even the book’s somewhat predictable ending made us think.  Alice contemplates the fact that she could have been happy with either Nick or Dominick, but when it came down to it, the time, the memories and the tapestry of their lives as a couple were what ultimately brought Alice and Nick back together.

I’m not sure I would have enjoyed this book if it had come along when I was in my mid-twenties. At this point in our lives though, when we’re so wrapped up in the busy-ness of children and work and aging parents, when it all seems to fly by at warp speed, it was a welcome respite. Once in a while, a book like this one comes along with a gentle reminder to step back, shift our perspective and take stock. It was a pleasant surprise.

“She had always thought that exquisitely happy time at the beginning of her relationship with Nick was the ultimate, the feeling they’d always be trying to replicate, to get back, but now she realized that was wrong. That was like comparing sparkling mineral water to French champagne.  Early love is exciting and exhilarating. It’s light and bubbly.  Anyone can love like that.  But love after three children, after a separation and near-divorce, after you’ve hurt each other and forgiven each other, bored each other and surprised each other, after you’ve seen the worst and the best – well that sort of love is ineffable.  it deserves its own word.”

The Red Tent imagines the life of Dinah, daughter of Jacob, named only a few times in the Bible’s Old Testament.  She is the only daughter mentioned among the 12 sons of Jacob. Her name, like those of any sisters she may have had, would have been lost to history had it not been for the part she inadvertently played in the massacre at Shechem, in the land of Canaan as told in Genesis 34.

The story is told by Dinah, but it is also that of her four mothers:  the two wives of Jacob, Leah and Rachel, and their maidservants, Zilpah and Bilhah respectively, who were also given to Jacob and bore him sons. It also tells smaller stories of women – Rebecca, Inna, Werenro and Ruti. The red tent is the women’s retreat, where they go (or are sent) during menstruation, childbirth, illness and death. It is where the women share their knowledge of life and death, of food and men, gods and goddesses.  It is there that they learn of their place in the world as daughters, mothers, sisters and friends. Dinah tells us the story of her life in a sweeping arc, from her birth to her death, and through her travels from Mesopotamia, to Canaan and Shechem (Israel) and finally to Egypt.

In the red tent, the women find a sense of family and community. They share knowledge and pass it from one generation to the next.  They worship their own gods and goddesses. They find beauty and grace in the world around them. However, it was argued, that whatever comfort they may have found there, it was a small victory in the larger story of the womens’ lives.  In the ancient world, women were little more than chattel, wholly owned by men and the gods the men worshipped. So rather than accepting what was, the women could have used the tent as a place of solidarity and power to fight back against the traditions that held sway over their lives and the lives of their children. Instead, the red tent became a place to jockey for position, and to maintain the caste system already in place.  Leah and Rachel fought for their place as Number One Wife in Jacob’s life, together, maintained their power over their maidservants, who were also wives of Jacob, and all the women in the community treated Ruti, the poor slave/wife of Laban with contempt, thereby cementing the hierarchy of their community as second-class citizens. In other words, they used the tent to focus inwards,on the lives of women, rather than turning their attention to understand the wider world that they lived in, with their men, not apart from them. We understood full well that in the ancient world, these women may not have even conceived of the idea that they could fight back, let alone had the wherewithal to do it.  However, having said that, we all know of the existence of parts of the world and cultures where women are treated this way today. Is it okay to accept it, to chalk it up to “cultural differences” and let it be? Or in the interest of human rights, are we obligated to speak out when we can?  

I found the female characters in the book to be well-developed and believable, but at the same time, I was struck by the fact that it was often done at the expense of the male characters.  I was hard-pressed to find even one rounded, or even likeable male character in the book.  Isaac was distant, Laban was disgusting, and Jacob just flat. Joseph, a strong voice in the Bible was weak. The other sons of Jacob were spoiled and entitled – and murderers to boot.  Shechem was dead before we had a chance to know him, Re-mose was sent away as a child, and Benia, Dinah’s husband was little more than a cardboard cutout. I think it is unnecessary to portray men in this way in order to bring more pathos to the women characters.  Even developing one strong male character may have made it all less glaring. I found myself thinking that if I were a man reading the book, I might have been a little incensed.

All in all, we enjoyed the book.  It was well-written, and the subject matter might have been something we had never given much thought to before. In the end, though, it was the heated discussion around the table that proved to be the most enjoyable part of the story. Now that’s what a book club is supposed to be about!

“Bad things are like knots on a necklace – necessary to keep the beads in place.”

Anita Diamant, the Red Tent

At our last meeting in June, we decided to add a new book to our reading list and read it this summer.  The Red Tent, by Anita Diamant was published 15 years ago in 1997, but it seems to have made an impression on everyone who has read it.  The story is told in the voice of Dinah, daughter of the Biblical Jacob. Dinah is mentioned only briefly in the Bible, but this book imagines what life may have been like for women in the ancient world.

Due to scheduling conflicts, we will skip our July meeting, and come together again at the end of August (tba).  In the meantime, in the interest of diversity, I’m considering adding a few new additions to the book list. When you have time, have a look at these titles, and we can discuss whether to add them to our fall list:

This thriller deals with the concept of self and memory.

Below Stairs inspired the Downton Abbey series. We spent more time talking about Downton Abbey than Fifty Shades of Grey after all.

A lawyer must decide between justice and loyalty when his son is accused of murder.

And, lastly because it’s summer, and everyone loves sangria, here is my now not-so-secret recipe.

• 1 bottle full-bodied red wine, preferably cheap and Spanish
• 1/2 cup brandy
• 1/2 cup peach schnapps, or Grand Marnier
• 1/2 cup granulated or fruit sugar
• Cut up fruit such as orange, lemon, lime, strawberries, peaches – whatever is in season and looks pretty.

Mix all ingredients and chill for at least a couple of hours. Just before serving, top up with a can of a clear, carbonated soda such as 7up, Pellegrino, or plain soda water.

Enjoy your summer!

“Electricity is actually made up of extremely tiny particles called electrons, that you cannot see with the naked eye unless you have been drinking.”
― Dave Barry

I’m a little shamefaced when I look at the date of my last post and realize it’s been over 2 months, and that in that time, we’ve read two books and had two meetings, and the blog, well, the blog says it’s still May.  It’s so not.

Let’s dig in and talk about the Birth House. The inspiration for the book came when the author, Ami McKay moved into a historic Scots Bay, Nova Scotia house. During its renovation it was discovered that the house was once the home of a local midwife, and had served as a sort of maternity house at the turn of the 20th century. A story began to take shape in McKay’s mind. Her protagonist, Dora Rare, is the first daughter in five generations of Rare families, and the middle child in a family of six boys. Dora was born with a caul – a sort of membrane over her face, which, depending on whom to believe, made her either very lucky, or a witch. Her community tended towards the latter, and as a teen, she finds friendship in another social outsider, the local midwife, Marie Babineau. Dora’s tired mother, at a loss for what to do with her daughter, decides to apprentice her to Miss Babineau, and Dora begins her education. A doctor moves to town and the battle begins between the old ways of delivering babies and caring for women, and “modern” medicine. Dora agrees to an arranged marriage, and Miss Babineau disappears, leaving Dora with a midwifery book and a rapidly disintegrating marriage.These events in a small Maritime town are set against a backdrop of World War I, the Halifax Explosion, the Spanish Flu Epidemic and the Great Boston Molasses Disaster.

Our discussion centred around some of the major themes in the book, namely about women’s reproductive and life choices. It was somewhat surprising to learn that women did have methods for preventing, spacing and ending pregnancies even when their choices for education, marriage and career were so severely limited. We wondered about the female characters in the book and their aversion to Miss Babineau. She was the person they ran to for help and advice, and yet these very women would avert their eyes and cross the street to avoid her in public. We were bothered by Dora’s reluctance to leave her husband because she wanted a baby, but it was at times easy to forget that Dora was still a teen herself. Some of the characters in the story were disturbing, such as poor Experience Ketch and her evil husband, Dora’s hypocritical Aunt Fran, and of course, the newcomer Dr Gilbert Thomas, with his promises of modernity and painless childbirth. I for one, felt at times that I was being hit over the head with the conflict between Marie Babineau/Dora and Dr. Gilbert.  He is ultimately revealed to be a greedy, unscrupulous and incompetent man, but I did wonder how I might have felt about him and this unending (and still current) debate had he been portrayed as a more kind-hearted doctor who honestly believed he was helping these women. Using his character as a strawman for the money-grubbing and insensitive medical industry diverts attention from the fact that maternal and infant mortality rates have fallen significantly in the last 100 years, in no small measure due to advances in medicine. It is also true that the medical industry has not always been, and is still not sensitive to the needs of women, however, we all agreed that there is much to be learned from each side of what sometimes appears to be a manufactured divide between the old ways and the new.

One of the interesting things about the book was its format.  It is a compilation of storytelling, diary entries, newspaper clippings and advertisements, invitations, and old-wives recipes from the Willow Book. It gave the book a sort of scrapbook appeal which made it that much more intriguing. We all had a good chuckle about the advertisement for the cure for “hysteroneurasthenic disorders” (the White Cross Battery Powered Vibrator), and laughed even more when someone mentioned that she had seen one for sale at the Beaumont Antique Mill in the Glen.

We enjoyed the book’s epilogue, and knowing how life had turned out for Dora and the other characters in the book.  We liked that Dora lived life on her terms, with her daughter, her career, and especially with Hart. 

The discussion that evening seemed the perfect setting for a frank discussion with one of our members who is going through a struggle of her own. Thank you, G, for your candor and openness, and for letting us ask you questions. We are all thinking of you, and look forward to seeing you at the table at our next meeting.

“To my mind, a miracle is that something that could go one way or another.  The fact that something happens, when by all rights it shouldn’t, is what makes us take notice, it’s what saints are made of, it takes the breath away. How a mother comes to love her child, her caring at all for this thing that’s made her heavy, lopsided and slow, this thing that made her wish she were dead….that’s the miracle.”  from Ami McKay’s the Birth House

A short history?  In his introduction, Bill Bryson says it was obvious to him that he would have to be painfully selective. His version of “selective” ended up in a 500-page rambling, digressive tome. It takes the reader, ostensibly, through Bryson’s 1851 rectory in rural England, and room by room tackles random facets of each. In his words, “Whatever happens in the world – whatever is discovered or created or bitterly fought over – eventually winds up, in one way or another, in your house…Houses aren’t refuges from history, they are where history ends up.”

By rights, this book should be as dull as sitting next to a verbose, short-sighted Latin professor at some mandatory dinner party, but somehow, it’s just…not.  Bryson reminds me of an enthusiastic kid at times, dragging a newcomer through his house. He runs and jumps from one topic to another with abandon, having no apparent goal in mind, except to amuse himself with an audience. Is there anything that doesn’t arouse his curiosity? Or his enthusiasm? Why are there salt and pepper shakers on the table?  Why not salt and cardamom?  Where did corn come from? Why are they called “chests” of drawers? Why were the English called “Limeys” and what is it with the British and their tea anyway? As Bryson answers these questions and many hundreds more, he opens the reader’s mind to reconsider long-held beliefs, and we found ourselves at times even laughing out loud (and then running after an innocent spouse to read to him from the book – again).

We didn’t all actually finish the book, but we all had fun reading what we did. Our conversation ran the gamut, from Thomas Edison who “had a vacuum where his conscience ought to be”, to servants who were treated in the same way we treat our modern appliances, to the history of toilets. We talked about ice as a commodity, the unbelievable diets of the 19th century and locusts the size of Yorkshire Terriers. Our conversation also turned to issues such as childbirth and illness, and reminded us all to take advantage of our modern medicine, and book a mammogram.

As Bryson points out, the history of private life is really a history of getting comfortable.  It is almost appalling to us now to think of our forebears who spent so much of generations past just trying to survive. Our own lives of cozy chairs, clean indoor air and soft beds would have seemed almost heavenly.  When you shower tomorrow morning, try to keep in mind that “by the 18th century, the most reliable way to get a bath was to be insane.”

Someone pointed out that At Home is an ideal book to just leave lying around, whether at home, or at the cottage. It is not a novel, or a story, but anyone, young or old, male or female, can pick it up, open to any page, and become instantly engrossed, even if you’ve read it before. It is just as easily put down again, waiting for the next time someone has a curiosity about something, or an even just an idle moment.  

If you enjoyed this book, it would be worth your while to pick up one of Bryson’s other books – the Life and Times of the Thunderbolt Kid, A Walk in the Woods, or Neither Here Nor There, are three that come to mind.  A note of caution – be careful reading Bryson in a public place, because guaranteed, people will look at you funny when you start shaking and snorting with laughter.

“Consider the fact that for 3.8 billion years, a period of time older than the Earth’s mountains and rivers and oceans, every one of your forebears on both sides has been attractive enough to find a mate, healthy enough to reproduce, and sufficiently blessed by fate and circumstances to live long enough to do so. Not one of your pertinent ancestors was squashed, devoured, drowned, starved, stuck fast, untimely wounded or otherwise deflected from its life’s quest of delivering a tiny charge of genetic material to the right partner at the right moment to perpetuate the only possible sequence of hereditary combinations that could result – eventually, astoundingly, and all too briefly – in you.”
― Bill Bryson, A Short History of Nearly Everything