A Book I Read In One Night

 Find Layla, Meg Elison

    I stayed up late reading this one. It was an Amazon First Reads that seemed ok. As much as I hate the word "unputdownable," it applies here. 

    Layla is a neglected 14 year old who loves science. She cares for her little brother, even though he annoys her sometimes, and gets good grades in school. She, like most neglected children, has developed a solid set of protective measures- forging her mother's signature, covering up her home life. She's aware that her life is bad but doesn't have any tools to change it, only those to mask it. She's bullied and teased and copes with science.

    After going viral with a video of her biome, a dark apartment with significant water damage, infestation, and filth, Layla runs away. Her world is collapsing around her. She's a child who is more afraid of the unknown than of the known squalor. She's also a resourceful young woman.

    Now, this is a YA novel, so it's not necessarily going to be believable (although some of y'all don't know just how badly neglected and abused children are treated every day), and it might not wrap up in a tidy package. But here's the thing. It gives a kid credit. And it also shows adults failing kids. And it shows an incredible resilience in children. And the weight some children bear and adapt to. Layla compares herself to both Dr. Jane Goodall and the gorillas Dian Fossey studied.

    Despite the heavy subject matter, this is a very quick read. There's no fluff. I think it's good for adults to read to kind of check our assumptions about neglected and abused children, and also for middle graders to read to see the struggles their peers may have that are hidden.

    

Another Immigrant Song

 A Woman Is No Man, Etaf Rum

    I mentioned way back in Americanah that I took a class on immigrant literature in college. Turns out that I seem to appreciate these novels more and more each year. What Rum has done in these pages is craft an intimate portrait of the complexities of leaving one's home for a new one.

    A Woman Is No Man collects the stories of a handful of Arab women, centered around Isra. Teenage Isra lives in Palestine and is contracted to marry a man living in New York. Her relationship with her mother is complicated and distant, even when they live together. In New York, Isra follows the lead of her mother-in-law, Fareeda, following the cultural rules as she understands them. Much to Fareeda's disgust, Isra gives birth to four daughters. Isra's husband, Adam, resents her more with each subsequent girl as he also spirals down under the pressure of his familial role as eldest son. Deya, Isra's oldest daughter, is the focus of the later tales as she uncovers the truths about her family's life before her parents died. Sarah, Fareeda's only daughter, befriends Isra and later Deya and serves as a catalyst for their story arcs.

    So, of course, a story about immigrants is going to discuss the balance between assimilation and honoring culture. It's going to talk about the otherness of no longer being a countryman and not belonging to the new home. There's expectation, shame, loss, possibility. And a story about women is going to delve into the roles of women in societies.

    What Rum does nicely, by telling multiple stories, is illustrate that there are no easy answers for these women. All of them lose their home in some sense, by military force, by arranged marriage, by escape, by finding the truth. And, mostly, none are satisfied. It's both very real and very sad.

    It's easy for an outsider to think there are easy solutions to difficult situations. Battered women should leave their partners. Child brides should run away before they are married off. "Why doesn't she just ... ?" Rum pulls at those threads and shows that, even the right choice, can lead to terrible consequences. And that, I think, is the universal truth revealed in these pages.

    A Woman Is No Man is heavy, tragic, and very lightly hopeful. Its characters are sympathetic, even when you are angry with them. It's frustrating and painful. It's one you should read.

Short List of Good Books from the Interim

I don't have the time or desire to pore over all the books I read in the gaps in my timeline, but here are a few titles that I enjoyed and think people should read.

YA:
The Other Half of Happy, Rebecca Balcarcel

The War that Saved My Life, Kimberly Brubaker Bradley

The Girl Who Drank the Moon, Kelly Barnhill

A Snicker of Magic, Natalie Lloyd (if you like Because of Winn-Dixie)

Lighter Side:

Evvie Drake Starts Over, Linda Holmes

Holly Banks Full of Angst, Julie Valerie

Daisy Jones and the Six, Taylor Jenkins Reid (like Behind the Music in book form)

The Vine Witch, Luanne G. Smith

Myths:

Gods of Jade and Shadow, Silvia Moreno-Garcia

Circe, Madeline Miller

Alternative History:

His Majesty's Dragon, Naomi Novik (Temeraire series)

Racism in America:

The Hate U Give, Angie Thomas

An American Marriage, Tayari Jones

The Nickle Boys, Colson Whitehead (I sobbed at the big plot twist)
The Blood of Emmett Till, Timothy B. Tyson

Ok, so some of these fall into multiple categories, but that'll do for now.

Reese and My Sister Made Me Do It

Yes, it's been a long time since I typed up anything about what I'm reading. Don't worry, I've been reading. And listening. And logging titles in my Goodreads. But I'm back here talking about books because ... well, my sister asked me to and I get more out of this than I do ticking a box on a Bezos app.

Little Fires Everywhere, Celeste Ng

As usual, I didn't read any reviews before diving into this novel, which the aforementioned sister also told me to read. It has an overall high score on a few platforms, but the very first review of Goodreads is a funny 1-star. It seems the reviewer doesn't do much self-reflection on her reactions to what she reads and actually demonstrates one of the main themes of the novel- the narrowness of (white) suburban life. The reviewer talks about how Ng lays the story out as black/white good/bad, without any apparent connection to which characters also live that way. The irony seems lost on her completely. 

So, the overarching story- a misfit living in a staid community- isn't new. It reminded me of Edward Scissorhands in a lot of ways. And, at times, I felt like it was too ambitious, trying to cram in too many conflicts and hot-button topics. But, Ng pulls all the threads together to set off the Big Finale. I imagine it like a person holding the tails of several helium filled balloons, each floating at a slightly different altitude, each with a different length of ribbon trailing. And Ng ties all those strings in a knot, but leaves a ragged, untidy tail at the very end. And here is one thing I really liked about the book.

When I'm in the mood for fluff, I want an easy story. I want people to fall together over time and live happily ever after. When I'm in the mood for a challenge, I like books like Little Fires Everywhere. There's no explicit happy ending for anyone. So I'm left to decide ... Does Pearl ever meet her grandparents? The Bryans? Does Izzy follow Mia's footsteps and become a great artist, or a poor drifter scraping by on talent? Will Lexie return to Shaker Heights upon graduation? Does Elena ever learn the truth about all her suspicions? Is the Richardson family every reunited? What kind of life does Pearl pursue? Does Mia ever put down roots? How does she handle Pearl becoming an adult? So. Many. Questions. And I feel like Ng has done well enough introducing me to the characters, that I have an idea of which path they will take and whether they will have regrets.

And while the novel tackles many topics like racism, classism, trans-racial adoption, immigrant experience, death, and abortion, I think the overall theme is regrets. Each character, even the minor ones, have a moment on which their lives balance and every choice they make after is based on whether or not they regret that initial one. Like Mia tells Lexie, they just have to carry it.

One writing choice I find interesting is when Ng calls the white suburban women by their first names and when she calls them Mrs. Lastname. It definitely sets a tone for the reader to distance themselves from these characters for large parts of the book, especially when they are doing the wrong thing. But it's also a snapshot into that suburban life. The rules, propriety, and formality. Last names surround these women and protect them from revealing vulnerabilities. Mrs. Richardson is a successful, orderly, pragmatic, and reasonable woman. Elena is a friend, a young woman who had to choose between safety and romance. Also interesting is that each of the Richardson children go by nicknames, the only characters to do so except for a bit parts played by college roommate, Betsy-cum-Elizabeth, and a professor's partner.

Several reviewers comment that they feel manipulated by Ng's storytelling, but also that the omniscient narrator is unsettling. They want to decide who is good and who is bad and simultaneously want the story from a single perspective. That, in itself, is a thread I'd like to pick at. Perhaps there is some resistance to feeling sympathetic towards a character they feel is immoral. Maybe there is some dissonance connected to the rule follower making several unethical moves. I didn't feel like any one character was the good guy or the bad guy, with the exception of Pearl, who is just batted about on the waves of everyone around her mostly. For me, it seems like the characters are all flawed, all make serious mistakes and bad choices, and then ... here's the message I think Ng is trying to give us ... they continue on with life, carrying that weight.