Chapter 23: A Book At the Bottom of Your To Read List

A Stolen Life, Jaycee Dugard

I have always been fascinated with crime and what drives people to it. I read every Ann Rule book I could get my hands on. I considered becoming a criminal psychologist. I studied serial killers and bizarre offenses. I watched made-for-tv movies, and Nancy McKeon's portrayal of Tracey Thurman left a lasting impression on me. Farrah Fawcette? Burn it down, girlfriend! The movie about how M.A.D.D. got started really fired up the J of my Myers-Briggs personality (plus I took it personally that the girl killed by a drunk driver was named Cari, too close to my own sister, Kerry). I can't help it. It's who I am. But most true-crime writing tends to be salacious, almost pornographic, and this one is neither.

People think they want to know all the details of a big crime. Tabloids feed us lines about what Scott Peterson ate for dinner or how many bars Casey Anthony went to. Those tidbits make us feel like we really know what happened, but they can also cheapen a story. That's where A Stolen Life is different. Dugard, as the victim and survivor of kidnapping, rape, and a handful of other crimes can actually tell us what happened, why she didn't escape, how she felt, what she thought. Unlike The Girl In the Box, which I read in middle school, this is an honest account of actual events. Sharing memories, journal entries, and reflections on events, Dugard draws a picture of what her life was like for 18 years behind a fence.

One of the most interesting things about the case is that Dugard was allowed to go out eventually, and even had contact with law enforcement, but never revealed she was held against her will. Most people are familiar with the idea of Stockholm Syndrome, but it is still hard to understand. In context, it was normal for her to comply, blend in, and do what was expected of her. We'd like to think we would make a break for it, to run and scream and escape. Understanding why someone wouldn't is very interesting material.

I'm not sure if I've mentioned here why I am doing this challenge. Besides just liking books and wanting to expand my horizons, I have a few books I would like to write. I am reading to be a better writer. One of these stories is the true story of a horrific crime that went unsolved in my hometown for 20 years. I have not approached the family about it yet because I want to have some text for them to read first. But one thing Stolen has helped me with is the assurance that a crime story can be told that honors the privacy of all the victims and still tells the tale. And, perhaps more importantly, you can do all this and still explain things that seem odd to outsiders- which I feel is very important in the case of my hometown. Context is everything. I want to honor the victim and her loved ones in a way that is rarely seen. So, I'm going to keep this one around to come back to as I pen that story.

It's obvious that Dugard wrote her memoir as part of her post-abduction therapy. At times it is very childish or naive, as one would expect from a girl kidnapped at age 11. It can feel a little schmaltzy at times, too, but not in an off-putting way. Jaycee Dugard is nothing if not honest. This look into her life was both compelling and enlightening, and nothing like the pulp content I used to devour.

Rating this one is difficult. It's been six years since Jaycee's recovery dominated headlines. Without all that attention and fervor, it is easy to be critical of the writing. At the same time, this is penned by a woman with a fifth-grade education, who was closed off from the world for more than half her life, and she still managed to publish something readable. If you are looking for juicy recollections of wild drug and sex binges, this isn't the book for you. If you are interested in gaining perspective on the inner workings of a victim and survivor, this is better than any case study you can find. And because I intend to come back to it for my own writing, a sort of touchstone, I am going to give it four Marias.

Chapter 22: A Book Published This Year

Go Set A Watchman, Harper Lee

You can't possibly be surprised that the most anticipated novel of the year is my selection for this category. Normally I try to keep my posts to the actual book, but there is no way to discuss this one without including a number of other issues. I'll try my best not to give away the plot beyond what is necessary.

First, the legal controversy. I was wary of purchasing Watchman because of the allegations of elder abuse. So I turned to facebook, specifically friends who I trust in important matters of southern writing, and not only agreed that the evidence of abuse was lacking but that Ms. Lee had a much more personal reason for holding back on this particular piece. The real Scout still has that compassion she learned in Atticus' lap decades ago.

Next, the writing. Watchman was rightfully rejected by Lee's publisher not because the story is bad but because it is immature. Understanding and loving Scout and Atticus of To Kill A Mockingbird makes Watchman a very different novel indeed. And, if you are like me, you grew up loving Scout like a sister. Atticus was the kindly neighbor who taught the whole community with his placid ways. But Jean Louise, as an adult, has a lot of growing up still to do. Without fully knowing her upbringing, she would come across as hysterical and dramatic- not that the situation doesn't warrant some histrionics, but the context of her childhood makes her wild reaction more sympathetic.

Now it would be unjust to discuss this novel without also talking about race and racism in America. I can be clumsy in these talks, so please have mercy and bear with me. Though set in the 1950's, the book could still be set today. In the wake of many headline-making stories of racism, "look how far we've come" seems to be not very far. Maybe we are not talking in productive ways. Is it possible for a person to be good and also be racist? Can a white, especially a southern white, speak against racism without being paternalistic? (This is one of those areas where I get very clumsy because, surprise! I don't know what it's like to be black in America. I know stories. I know what I witness, but that is not the same. Whenever a major event occurs and we as a nation talk about race in some new context, I  defer to someone with experience that I cannot possibly have. Sometimes that makes me really uncomfortable because I am faced with my own prejudice, but I am a seeker of knowledge. /tangent) Is it possible for a kinder, gentler style racist to move beyond that? Or is the psychic pain just too much to bear?

Some other things that this book has me thinking about- the tangled relationship between law and social change. Am I a Scout? Or am I an Atticus? Do the ends justify the means? Whose responsibility is it to help adults grow? Is there such thing as collective consciousness? I don't know the answer to any of these questions. I have ideas and I have a willingness to listen to other people's ideas on the subject, too.

So, aside from the racism, Lee really hits on some other things that I think have been overlooked by many because they are small in comparison. But I feel like she did a wonderful job of capturing what is now called the quarter-life crisis. Jean Louise has graduated college, is living on her own far from her home and just now really having to define herself as an individual. I'll be honest, I was so glad to get out of my 20's! There was so much turmoil and drama. I understand Jean Louise's wild reactions because I felt so passionately, too. But time has mellowed me some and maybe it will her. It does make me wonder if Atticus was ever so fiery, but we will probably never know.

The other thing illustrated beautifully in Watchman that lives in the shadow of Atticus' fall from grace is related to that fall and to Jean Louise's age. Scout left home. She returns annually as if it is a duty. She detests much of Maycomb, yet loves it, too. In all of her struggle, she fails to see how very much like her father she is, even when she thinks she hates him. The old adage "There's something about that guy I just don't like about myself" is spot on in this case. I'm not sure if Jean Louise ever comes to that conclusion. Honestly, I'm not sure what becomes of her. But the glimpse into her life as a young adult was interesting and thought-provoking.

Go Set A Watchman earns three and a half Maria's. It's not the best written work. On its own, it isn't even that compelling a story. But the context- that changes everything. For me, it's more an epilogue of Mockingbird than its own tale. I'd like to note that even if it isn't the best book published this year, it still belongs on the shelf with important literature. It still should be read. It is still relevant 60 years later. And, perhaps, as we undergo yet another Reconstruction (and future ones, too), we can learn something from Maycomb.

Chapter 21: A Book With Nonhuman Characters

The Ocean at the End of the Lane, Neil Gaiman

You might have picked up that I don't read reviews or even dust jackets when selecting books. This was one of those. I had a few hours to spend at a bookstore, so I selected a large stack of interesting looking titles and began on page one. If, by page three I was still interested, I bought it. I spent a lot of money that day. Ocean, written by the same man who gave us Coraline, the creepiest kid movie ever, was definitely a good choice. Had I realized it was the same guy, I might not have picked it up. Teri Hatcher's voice still gives me the heebie-jeebies, and every time I see a LaLaLoopsy doll with button eyes I shiver. So I'm glad I didn't read the flap.

It's hard to describe this short novel without either giving away too much or relegating the fantasy to normal, boring, earthbound language. It reminded me of A Wrinkle In Time, one of my all-time favorite stories but is still very different. Gaiman crafted a fast-paced, character driven novel with immense creativity and enough magic to believe it might all be true. It's gross and engrossing, terribly tragic, and somehow still a children's story on some level. I would not let my seven year old read it just yet, but I will probably introduce him to it after her reads Wrinkle.

There is nothing here for me to critique. When you pull off an entire novel in 178 pages, without leaving a bunch of unresolved threads, you've managed a bit of magic for real. It's neither a short story with fluff padding it, nor a novel with chunks missing. It is, instead, a perfectly satisfactory piece of writing that I am pleased to give four Marias.

Chapter 20: A Book By an Author With Your Initials

The Museum of Extraordinary Things, Alice Hoffman

I am sure reviews of this book include descriptions like poetic and lyrical; it certainly aspires to those things. But this piece seems to have a bit of an identity crisis. Is it mystery? Is it historical fiction in which the time and location become characters themselves? Is it character-driven literary fiction? Well, it just kind of falls short of all of these. The result is readable but not memorable.

As a mystery, a glimpse at the cover art is enough to know what the menacing Professor has planned. The other surprises revealed near the end are likewise predictable even if not foreshadowed. Luckily for Ms. Hoffman, I doubt she was aiming for a shocking plot twist.

As historical fiction, Museum does a fair job of embracing the genre. Hoffman's lifelong experience in the boroughs shows in the life she breathes into the city. But the spirit of the era- both the tension in the workplace and the exhilaration of attractions- don't take form even though they are referenced often. Of course there is talk of unions and Tammany Hall corruption, but it doesn't coalesce into a character, which I think of as a very important aspect of historical fiction. In this context, I enjoyed Burning Girls more.

If Hoffman's goal is literary fiction, this is the closest she got to her goal. The plot relies heavily on a few bursts of action amid the inner thoughts of the main characters. However the characters don't really move the story along. It almost happens in spite of their efforts, in which case Fate should be the main character. I enjoyed following the threads that would eventually bring these two together, but at times felt bogged down by the shifts in perspective and time. The third person narratives move the story along better than the first person flashbacks.

And about those flashbacks- the font for entire chapters is painful! I don't know what professional selected this italicized font, but it is tiring. I can support the decision of a different typeface for different times, threads, or narrators, but for the love of mis ojos, please make it readable. The kerning is a little loose for so many lines and there are too many flourishes.

I do like the story of Coralie and Eddie and their peers. I braced myself for tragedies that never occurred and I cringed at ones that did. There is little moral ambiguity among the characters. The bad guys are really bad, the good guys are only a little bad. Except for the heavy handedness of the water and fire imagery and symbolism, the story is good even when the telling is not. Overall, I give Museum three Marias.