About Alice by Calvin Trillin

For a change, I picked up a biography of someone I'd never heard of. In this case, the late Alice Trillin. Her husband, Calvin, has been a writer for the New Yorker since the early sixties. I'd never heard of either of them, but he has a very lengthy list of published work in the first couple of pages which leads me to believe that I'm likely in a very small minority.

What I discovered about Alice after crawling out from my rock: Her husband, family, friends, acquaintances, and friends of acquaintances clearly adored her. She was radiated positivity and didn't let anything get her down. She had cancer, but didn't let that define her. She sounded feisty, funny, generous, smart, beautiful, opinionated yet humble. She's the kind of woman that every man would want to be with and every woman would want to be.

That was just her in a nutshell like the book itself. Reading About Alice felt like taking a small glimpse inside a beautiful little gift box, sneaking a peek at the effect a cherished woman had on those who knew her, touching the stories inside and then closing the lid on a celebrated life wrapped up into a special little book. And I personally think that being eulogized by a child as "the coolest girl I ever knew" is just about the best compliment one could receive.

The Golden State by Lydia Kiesling

The Golden State opens with Daphne, a semi-single mother, temporarily walking out of her solid 9-5 San Francisco University job (for now, at least) and escaping to her family's trailer located in a desert town in Altavista, California. She's semi-single because her husband, Engin, is tangled up in an immigration/green card/bureaucratic mess and is stuck in Turkey. Daphne's not exactly sure what she's escaping or why, but she feels a strong pull leading her away from her everyday life and a return towards her roots. Along for the ride is her sixteen-month-old daughter, Honey. 

The novel spans ten days that Daphne spends in Altavista. Not much happens in this small town and, like all small towns, there are characters with a capital C. Cindy is the far-right-leaning next-door neighbour whose political ambitions include being part of a group that wants Altavista to separate from California and become its own independent state.

Alice is an elderly lady who, like Daphne, is only a temporary member of this tiny community. Daphne and Alice bond at the local restaurant over Honey and the Turkish language and things between them develop from there.

With not much for Daphne to do, she spends her time mainly wandering around the town, sneaking drinks and cigarettes while Honey's napping, looking through her deceased parents' belongings and thinking about her husband. While this doesn't make for an earth-shattering plot or a sense of urgency, it definitely highlights the slow pace of small town life and the highs and lows of motherhood, especially wanting nothing more than a break when Honey's awake but showing the deepest of love when she's reflecting about her as she sleeps.

Alice and Daphne's lives become forever entangled in the last couple of days and this is where things really start to develop and become a little more unpredictable. 

The Golden State is a serene read. It's got sparks of quirky humour, especially where motherhood is concerned, and vivid descriptions. For a near-300-page book without a lot of twists and turns, but a whole lot of killing time and reflecting, it somehow manages to pull the reader along for the ride - and it was a ride I was happy to be on.

Putney by Sofka Zinovieff

Putney is a headfirst journey into right and wrong. It's a story of consent viewed from three angles: those of Ralph, a thirty-something family friend, Daphne, the object/child of his affection, and her best friend, Jane. Given the subject matter, it could definitely be a polarizing and/or triggering read, but I personally felt as though the subject was tackled respectfully with a lot of careful thought.

Daphne is a beautiful sprite of a child. Raised in a very loose, free flowing family, she and her older brother are basically given free reign and not many rules. It's the seventies and she lives in a very bohemian household. Her parents are always on the periphery. When they're at home, there's an open-door policy and lots of boozy dinners with their eccentric friends, but oftentimes, they're out for indefinite amounts of time and Daphne is mainly left to her own devices.

Ralph enters Daphne's life at an early age. He's a composer and develops a close working relationship with Daphne's novelist father, Edmund. From the moment he lays eyes on her (he around age thirty; she aged nine) he's mesmerized. She glides through life, carefree and loose and when she turns twelve, he seduces her. They continue and delve deeper into their secretive relationship for a few short years. While they're relationship is clearly inappropriate from an outside perspective, Ralph justifies it by claiming a uniquely special bond to only her, even though he also marries and has children with another friend of the family, Nina. Daphne believes she is in love with Ralph and blindly follows his lead.

Jane feels like she doesn't measure up. She constantly compares herself to her friend, Daphne, and comes up short in every respect. She feels to tall, too fat, too bookish in comparison to lithe, golden, exotic Daphne. Early on, she discovers the secret relationship going on between her friend and Ralph and on top of everything feels like a third wheel. She's jealous of the tiny presents he brings her friend and of the attention she receives from him. While she mainly resents Ralph, she also develops complicated feelings of jealousy towards him.

The story bounces around from the seventies to present day and alternates viewpoints by each of the three main characters. We see the story of Ralph and Daphne unfold, then we meet them again in the present day - Ralph in his seventies, dying of cancer, and Daphne and Jane in their early fifties. Time brings new perspectives, unfurls old discoveries and shines a spotlight on these complicated adult/child relationships.

There are a few twists and shocking revelations that definitely keep the plot interesting. Will Ralph get away with the rape of a minor? Does Daphne still hold affection in her heart for Ralph? How does Jane feel now that she and Daphne are adults with children of her own? Only time will tell...

The Expatriates by Janice Y.K. Lee

This book presented me with a book lover's dilemma: I didn't want to put it down, but I didn't want it to end.

<i>The Expatriates</i> encapsulates what it is to be adrift in a foreign land. It follows the separate but intertwined stories of Mercy, a recent Columbia grad, Margaret, a mother, and Hilary, who is desperate to become one. For various reasons, these American women and their families are all living in Hong Kong. In their new setting, each are doing their best to acclimate to their environment while navigating all-encompassing personal issues that arise after they've moved.

The character development was so well executed and the plot so rich, I feel that these three women could have been the protagonist of a book each in their own right. There's quite a melancholy tone throughout the novel (which isn't everyone's cup of tea, but one of my favourite fictional elements) however, ultimately it's tempered with a lot of hope. The women are experiencing pain and purpose unique to each of their situations. The setting being a foreign one only reinforces that feeling of not knowing quite what to expect, of trying to fit in and navigating not only a new way of life, but also their overwhelming emotions.

It's a testament to the author's writing style that even the secondary characters were just as intriguing and the pace of the book kept me on my toes throughout. There is an underlying fervor of just wanting to find out how these dilemmas will be resolved which helped propel the book along, never once feeling like any situation or sentence was out of place.

So how did I resolve my dilemma? Ultimately, I paced myself and savoured every nuanced word. But now a new dilemma presents itself: that of trying to find another book that pulls me in the way and keeps me guessing the way this one did...

My Year of Rest and Relaxation by Ottessa Moshfegh

Have you ever gone through such a hard time in life where the only relief seems like a good deep sleep? <i>My Year of Rest and Relaxation</i> is about just that as we follow its narrator through her pursuit of an escape from the everyday world, attempting to sleep for an entire year. Purposely heavily medicated and sedated, she attempts to shut out the world through slumber, her only main outings being quick trips to the local bodega and appointments with a wacky yet obliging psychiatrist.

Orphaned in her early adulthood, the unnamed protagonist is able to take this time off while she lives on the inheritance left to her by her wealthy parents. After several phone calls trying to find a medical professional to help her sleep, she stumbles upon Dr. Tuttle, an incompetent quack who - lucky for her - hands out drugs like candy. She falls for the narrator's lies as she claims increasing insomnia and doles out higher doses and stronger treatments over the course of their monthly visits. As the narrator pops mind-blowing amounts of sleeping pills and tranquilizers, she slowly shuts off the world around her...

There are very few people in her life: the aforementioned psychiatrist, a dud of a sometimes-boyfriend Trevor, a peculiar artist Ping Xi, and Reva, her oldest friend. Dr. Tuttle is her lifeline and drug supplier. Trevor is hardly worth a mention, as he is such an insignificant character, perhaps only there to signify how little the narrator has in terms of meaningful relationships. Ping Xi is an important part of the story - an odd character, yet a lifesaver of sorts. Reva is a bit of an anomaly - the ditzy friend who swans in and out, whose friendship feels like it's well past the expiration date, yet both girls appear to need something from the other that no one else seems able to provide.

After experimenting with numerous drug combinations with varying success, things really ramp up when the narrator is prescribed a superstrength sleeping pill called Infermiterol. Once she starts taking this particular drug, giant chunks of time are spent in blackouts. She wakes up to discover that she's made strange phone calls, has left her apartment, and has eaten and shopped for things, not remembering a single moment of doing so. She takes drastic action in an attempt to remain able to take the drug, yet keep herself safe.

Reading this book with such a sleepy prominent theme almost made me feel as though I was falling into a trancelike state. As someone who could very easily not leave the house and loves hibernating as much as possible, it was easy to get sucked into the cozy parts: the movie marathons, the comfortable apartment, the enveloping sofa...everything fades into the periphery and it's as though the book emanates a soft glow of comfort and sleepiness.

<i>My Year of Rest and Relaxation</i> provided something unique. It was a book unlike any other I've read, yet it had all of the elements that make up my favourite novels: humor, originality, self-reflection and a good dose of quirkiness. It might not be for everyone, but I really enjoyed it.

But that's enough for now. I might only be imagining it, but I swear my couch is calling my name...

My Struggle #6: The End by Karl Ove Knausgaard

I'm sitting here trying to contain myself now that My Struggle has come to The End. Where do you even begin with a series this extensive? Weighing in at over 1,150 pages and 3 lbs. (yes, I weighed it), we have Karl Ove Knausgaard in one corner; the rest of the world in the other. It's a title fight. A championship. I was in the front row and Karl Ove went the distance.

Unlike the other five books, this final book is so meta. In it, Karl Ove is contemplating life since and during publication of the other previous books in the series while also writing this current one, offering a unique perspective on his novels and where his life was taking him now that he was gaining celebrity status. It was otherworldly seeing the impact that his books had on his family, friends and self. While most of his family and friends expressed support of his previous novels, it was near impossible for them not to directly have some sort of impact on each of them, even when their names had been changed. Keen reporters would show up at their houses unannounced trying to get insider information. Journalists would break promises, saying one thing and delivering another. Most notably, one of Karl Ove's uncles was absolutely livid, claiming that events surrounding his brother's and mother's lives (Karl Ove's father's and grandmother's) had been horribly misrepresented and their names dragged through the mud for monetary gain. Most evident in this last book was the possible impact Karl Ove's books had on his current wife, Linda. The last couple of hundred pages led us through her suffering a major mental breakdown, however whether or not this was the direct result of being written about or if it was older symptoms recurring is not obvious, as mental illness is something she was diagnosed with years ago before she met and married the author.

Still present and pervading (as in all of the other books in this series) is Karl Ove's unflinching, deep, dark shame. It's palpable. The most seemingly innocuous things, such as driving above the speed limit, fill him with days of shame, so one can only imagine how his everyday interactions and close analysis of his life just overpower him with emotion. His is a person who feels deeply. Although his self-esteem is truly at base level, he was still incredibly brave to write in such detail about his life. As he says himself, in everyday life, no one ever knows the true us - our deepest thoughts and interactions are all buried within us and it's therefore impossible to ever really know another person one hundred percent. We say the things that placate and please others all the while running an internal dialogue that would dispel any version of our selves that others know. Even when we're not being especially nice, when we're fighting or in turmoil, no one ever hears our most harsh thoughts. What Karl Ove does is shows us exactly what he's thinking, so whenever he relays scenarios or conversations, we read his innermost rebuttals that beforehand were only in his head. In turn, those people that are closest to him - the people he's written about - read all of these true feelings, leaving Karl Ove exposed and vulnerable. This, of course, creates tension among certain people, but while this approach created some awkward schoolyard pickups, dinner dates and family meals, he holds steadfast to his decision to not wash over anything to spare his or others' feelings. It's all part of the formula that keeps the readers thoroughly engaged with his writing.

I can't review this book without mentioning the 400+ pages entitled The Name and the Number in which he analyzes: the importance of names, provides a detailed examination of poetry, characters in classics, God, death, night and nothingness and an in-depth review of Hitler's entire life, as he read Mein Kampf - (My Struggle - also the same name as his series). There is also a recurring interpretation throughout of I/we/they theories and how people belong to and are seen in the world. He notes that this section is what he started with when writing this book, but it just felt to me like the longest, never-ending detour. I was getting right into the original story - literally reading with a smile on my face throughout the first few hundred pages - as I plunged back into Karl Ove's life, so to have this gigantic non-fiction book placed within this other book just made no sense to me. I almost struggle to say something good about this section, because it comes so out of left field. Well...I certainly learned a lot about Hitler. My history knowledge is sadly lacking in many areas, so at least a learned quite a bit. Also, for someone who states that he's no good at understanding poetry, he certainly disproved that - the parts where he referenced poetry felt like an English professor's discourse in the art of deconstructing a poem; he distilled practically every word down to its most likely meaning, incorporating history, language and context. Kudos must also be given to the translator of this entire body of work - with so many turns of phrase, not to mention the sheer length of the novel, and to have it all ring true from start to finish, was a great feat.

Partway through this section, I started grasping at straws as to why this extensive essay-like information was included within this book. Does it go back to Karl Ove's interest in utopia? His own fearful father/son dynamic that's closely mirrored in that of Hitler and his own father? His parallel discomfort with women? Perhaps analysis of a same-named book? In any case, it was maddening to me, but I kept at it, anticipating getting through it and back to Karl Ove's family life in Malmo...

...which it did eventually. I am so happy I stuck through the whole thing and read this acclaimed series. Although outwardly simplistic in theory, it somehow becomes anything but. It's an ordinary yet compulsive look at a life lived so far to middle age. It's about family, friendship, coffee, feelings, love, self-analysis, loathing, book tours, shame, detritus, money, home, a brain, a body, a life. It's uniquely Karl Ove Knausgaard. A man who doesn't give a shit at all what any of us think about his books.

The Line Becomes a River by Fransisco Cantu

Yesterday, I was reading an article that stated that most deported parents decline reunification with their children as they feel it's too unsafe in their homelands. As a mother, this is the kind of thing that makes my hear feel as though it's tearing in two. 

The Line Becomes a River by Fransisco Cantu is a firsthand look at a border patrol officer's role in this messed up game of cat and mouse. The book is divided into three parts: in the first, he's a freshly minted border patrol officer; in the second, he's moved out of the field and into an administrative position; in the third, he's tried to leave that life behind and works in a coffee shop within a market.

I didn't enjoy the first two parts as much as I'd anticipated - it somehow felt a bit removed, a bit impersonal...I can't quite put my finger on it. Maybe I wanted some more insight into Fransisco or the anecdotes felt too quick to read. I wanted to know more about the people crossing. I'm not quite sure. But the third section drew me right in. Without giving too much away, it's actually once he's out of the job altogether that it seems to affect his life the most. He becomes friends with an undocumented worker who works in the same market. They form a friendship and this is where we really get to experience both sides of what it means to cross a border - we see the perspective of the people who protect it and those who seek to cross it. We see how it tears families apart, how it's unforgiving, corrupted, malicious.

It's through this book that we see that the border as so much more than a line that demarcates two pieces of land. It represents division, a breaking apart of so much. It's enough to break a human heart in two.