Diary of a Young Girl: a brief review

taken from Goodreads.com

Since high school, I've tried to read this book three separate times and haven't gotten very far any of those times. I don't know what it was about it, but I just couldn't ever get into it. The fact that this is a worldwide classic and a staple of most middle and/or high school reading lists didn't make me feel too great about never reading it, and I always had it on that list in the back of my head that I would get to one day. Once again: audiobooks save the day. I enjoyed this book a lot; it's amusing to me because Anne is SUCH a teenage girl, but she also has moments of incredibly wise insights. The way she sees and comments on the world is pretty incredible, and definitely worth a place on the shelves of the Classics. I did find myself thinking, though, on several occasions, that all the rest of it (the parental drama, the boy drama, the incredibly detailed personal/sexual descriptions) seemed a little unnecessary and long winded - and maybe even inappropriate? - for a book to teach in a classroom. As a stand-alone book and memoir, though, I definitely enjoyed it.

Rapidfire book reviews

As promised, here are the single paragraph book reviews of the last several books I've read, since they haven't made it onto the blog yet. Moving forward, I may stick to this style for time's sake.

taken from Goodreads.com

I grew up hearing about this book, Created to be His Help Meet by Debi Pearl, from my mother and many of her friends who studied it and adopted it as their lifestyle. Now that I've read it myself, I can say with confidence that I agree wholeheartedly with about 95% of this incredibly conservative and biblical description of God's design for wives. My only wish - apart from the minor details I disagree with her on - that she had written the book with a little less harshness and a little more grace.

taken from Goodreads.com

This one, Wonder by R.J. Palacio, had been on my list for years, and I finally listened to it on audiobook. This YA book about a middle school boy with severe birth defects and facial deformities is heartbreaking, hilarious, and deeply heartwarming. I loved the way the author explores both the very worst and the very best about the middle school-aged population. I definitely recommend it and I am excited to read the companion books.

taken from Goodreads.com

To Kill a Mockingbird was a reread, half in honor of the release of Harper Lee's Go Set a Watchman and half because I claim it's one of my favorite books and yet I have never reread it. (I never ever reread books anymore, always in the pursuit of the ever growing "list." That's something I'm determined to change in the future.) This particular reread was well worth it: I still love it and it's still wonderful. And I am equal parts giddy and terrified of the sequel.

taken from Goodreads.com

Elie Wiesel's Night is one of the books that I am shocked I'd never read until now. I hadn't realized before listening to the audiobook that this book is actually the author's story of imprisonment in various concentration camps during the Holocaust. The tale is horrifying, heartbreaking, sickening, and shocking; there are so many stories about the Holocaust that it's almost easy to become hardened to it, in one ear and out the other. But some of the specific details of this story were too disgusting and horrifying to grasp, and when I tried to tell JT about them later on the words literally wouldn't come out of my mouth because I knew I'd start crying. This is both a terrible and special book, and if you haven't read it I do recommend it.

taken from Goodreads.com

I read Jeannette Walls' first book The Glass Castle, which is her own personal memoir, when I was in college. It made a huge impression on me and whenever I've seen her other two books for sale or on friends' shelves I have made a note to read them someday. Someday came in the form of an audiobook for Half Broke Horses, which is the hilarious and thought-provoking story of her grandmother's life. This story becomes especially interesting when Walls' grandmother's daughter Rosemary is born, and you learn of so many of the reasons and life events that turn her into the future mother and wife that raises Walls. (Super confusing sentence...I couldn't figure out how to make it more clear so just reread it a couple times till you see what I mean.) This overlapping of the two books and three generations makes me really want to reread The Glass Castle.


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So there you have it. You're caught up on the reading I've been doing since the blog went quiet. I'm up to 33 books this year, which is already one more than last year's 32, and I'm pretty stoked about that.

The Book Thief: a brief review

taken from Goodreads.com

Have you ever finished a book and needed some time to sit quietly and digest? Like...don't talk to me or ask anything of me for a while, because I am filled with both love and the deepest of sorrows and I'm not sure how to proceed. That was me last night. I truly loved this book, everything about it, but I'm finding it a little hard to put into words why. Not because it isn't obvious, but because it's so special I just want to hold it close to me and cherish it. That might sound odd - and it very well might be - but all I've done since finishing it is sleep and eat breakfast so I'm still in an emotional state.

Markus Zusak's The Book Thief has been well-known and well-loved since it's creation, but it's become wildly popular since Hollywood turned it into a movie. In fact, that's when it got bumped from my "I really want to read that list" to my "I now have a deadline to read it before I see the movie list." I loved it from the first page; as someone who is attempting to write a novel of her own, I can't even put into words my level of respect for Zusak and his incredible ability to describe, explain, and paint his characters into existence. One of my favorite examples of his characterization comes from the beginning of the book:

She was good at being furious. In fact, you could say that Rosa Hubermann had a face decorated with constant fury. That was how the creases were made in the cardboard texture of her complexion. (page 32 on Kindle)

As far as an actual plot description, here's my attempt: Liesel Meminger's mother is forced to place both Liesel and her brother in a foster home in pre-WWII Germany, but on the journey to their new town Liesel's brother dies. When she arrives at the Hubermann's home, Liesel is young, alone, and terrified. Her initial observations of her ill-tempered foster mother and grumpy foster father, though, quickly become brushed aside as she realizes the depth of their love for her. Whether it's sitting with her all night after a nightmare or expressing affection through vulgar nicknames, Liesel quickly finds her home with the Hubermanns on Himmel Street. As time progresses and the war begins, she finds love in other places as well, like the next-door neighbor boy Rudy who is intent on kissing her, and the stranger Max who has moved into the basement. Through it all, Liesel finds solace and excitement in the books she steals and the way they bring all of the people in her life together.

I can't even describe the happiness and the heartbreak that this book brings. You will absolutely adore the characters; you will absolutely adore this book. Zusak took an interesting approach when writing this book by using Death as the narrator. It sounds a little odd, and it does take a little bit of time to get used to, but it's also a completely appropriate choice given the content. I'll end with one of my favorite - and most haunting - paragraphs in the book, as told by Death himself.

Summer came. 
For the book thief, everything was going nicely. 
For me, the sky was the color of Jews.
When their bodies had finished scouring for gaps in the door, their souls rose up. When their fingernails had scratched at the wood and in some cases were nailed into it by the sheer force of desperation, their spirits came toward me, into my arms, and we climbed out of those shower facilities, onto the roof and up, into eternity's certain breadth. They just keep feeding me. Minute after minute. Shower after shower. (page 349 on Kindle)

Read this book, if you haven't already. 

And for added excitement/incentive, here's the extended trailer for the movie (which comes out on DVD today, actually).

Number the Stars: a brief review

When I looked at my bookshelves a couple months ago and realized how many books I hadn't read yet, this was one of the ones that embarrassed me. I'd heard people talking about it for years, including colleagues who mentioned it casually in conversations about Holocaust fiction as if everyone had read it. I knew I should have been included in that "everyone," and rather than admit how I'd managed to overlook it all this time I just nodded my head in agreement and reminded myself once again that I really should read this soon. Well the day has finally come (and it literally only took a day to read because it's a short 130ish pages, yet another reason why there's no excuse for not having read it long ago).

Lois Lowry's depiction of the Holocaust in Number the Stars is a little different than most that I've read. Ten-year-old Annemarie lives with her parents and little sister in Nazi-occupied Denmark during World War II; soldiers with guns on every street corner are a reality she and her family are used to. When Jews in their neighborhood start to disappear, though, fear rises. Annemarie's family isn't Jewish, but their best friends and across-the-hall neighbors are. When an opportunity to help them escape to safety presents itself, Annemarie and her parents must weigh some dangerous risks for the sake of friendship and human decency.

There are a couple reasons why I think this book is different than most I've read on the topic, and I'll try to explain them without giving too much of the plot away. First of all, the protagonist is not Jewish. I know that there are several other examples of this approach (The Boy in the Striped Pajamas, for one) but I feel like most literature comes from the perspective of the oppressed (Diary of Anne Frank, Chains, The Color Purple, etc.). I think the biggest reason I find Number the Stars to be distinctive, though, is because of how little Annemarie understands throughout the entirety of the plot. It's not a naive and frustrating lack of understanding, though, like I expressed in my review of The Boy in the Striped Pajamas; Annemarie trusts her parents and her uncle and bravely follows their instructions even when she doesn't fully get the big picture or most of the details. She acts courageously and helps them all relocate many Jews to safety without ever being told any actual facts or insights into what the plan is, and she doesn't complain like I imagine most 10-year-olds would in such a situation. She is extremely observant and picks up on clues along the way, but doesn't press for more information.

I'm mostly just in love with Annemarie and her family. They don't seem to ever question their role in this dangerous fight against the Nazis, they just act. Quickly, bravely, and wholeheartedly, they dive in and completely surrender themselves to what they know they need to do. It makes me wonder whether I live my life in that way, or if I would if I felt like such an opportunity was presenting itself. True, we don't live in a Nazi-occupied country that's been stripped of all rights and basic necessities, and we also aren't watching neighbors be inexplicably ripped from their homes in the middle of the night...but am I missing out on opportunities to quickly, bravely, and wholeheartedly throw myself into something that would change the lives of the people around me? It's worth seriously considering, I think.

The Boy in the Striped Pajamas: a brief review

It's with somewhat mixed emotions that I write this post. I literally just finished the last page of the book, and even though I'd seen the movie and knew how it was going to end, I'm obviously still deeply saddened. Saddened that such a time in human history ever occurred, and saddened that it is still happening now.

John Boyne's novel/fable The Boy in the Striped Pajamas is the story of nine-year-old Bruno, whose father is the Commandant in charge of the infamous Auschwitz concentration camp. Bruno doesn't know what goes on in the little town on the other side of the big fence, and he stares in curiosity at all the little people who wear matching striped pajamas every day. When he finally decides to get out of the house and go exploring one day, he finds another nine-year-old boy to be friends with...but this boy is on the other side of the mysterious fence. Thus begins an odd and secret friendship that lasts over a year as the boys continue to meet and talk while sitting at the fence line.

I said I had mixed emotions about this book. The topic is one we're all too familiar with as 21st century Americans, but it's told here from a slightly different perspective than we're used to and that adds a unique new effect. As if the topic itself isn't enough, the book's conclusion is just absolutely heartbreaking. But my confused emotions come from a state of frustration: the gaps in logic are quite large at times. Bruno would not have been nearly as clueless as he was in real life WWII-era Germany; the nine-year-old son of a Nazi Commandant would have definitely been involved with Hitler Youth and would have had Nazi propaganda instilled in him continuously. It also makes no sense that Bruno would be confused by the word "Auschwitz," replacing it with the phrase "Out-With"...he is a German-speaking child after all and the words "out" and "with" are English. The idea of a spot in the fence around Auschwitz having a hole big enough for an adolescent boy to fit under that is also never ever guarded or patrolled at any point over the course of an entire year is probably ridiculous. A house positioned directly next door to a concentration camp in which large amounts of humans were burned alive routinely would smell so strongly that no one in Bruno's family would have been able to stand it (or be confused at all about the purpose of the camp). Your typical nine-year-old child wouldn't be half as stupid as Bruno, either; he is probably the most annoyingly dense character I've read in a long time. But all of that aside, let's keep this in perspective. This is a work of fiction. A work of fiction that doesn't claim to be anything other than fiction. It's based on real events and a real place, yes. But it's fiction. And with fiction sometimes comes moments in which we need to suspend disbelief deeply rooted in hindsight and adult wisdom. Would I use this book as a lone tool to teach the Holocaust to a child? Nope. But I probably wouldn't mind using it as one of many tools, because it offers a unique voice not provided by most other books (it's also one heck of an opportunity for teaching inference and drawing conclusions).

In his author's note at the end of the book, John Boyne explains his choices:

"Throughout the writing and rewriting of the novel, I believed that the only respectful way for me to deal with this subject was through the eyes of a rather naive child who couldn't possibly understand the terrible things that were taking place around him. After all, only the victims and survivors can truly comprehend the awfulness of that time and place; the rest of us live on the other side of the fence, staring through from our own comfortable place, trying in our own clumsy ways to make sense of it all."

Honestly, I get it. Bruno is stupid and you want to strangle him to death throughout a lot of the book (either because he just will. not. get. it, or because he often whines about how bad he has it while watching his friend literally starve to death in front of him), but if Bruno wasn't quite so stupid the story wouldn't work. And honestly...are there areas in our personal interactions and/or areas in this world that we are as stupid as Bruno about? Are we the people whining about how our new house only has three floors when our old house had five while a dear friend sits across the table from us going through something that is literally killing them? Is it possible that we, as mature and intelligent adults, could be missing something right next door to us that's just as huge and heartbreaking? I hope not, but maybe Bruno can get us thinking anyway.