Daughters of Shandong by Eve J. Chung

There is so much history in the world that we often aren't familiar with unless it is the history of our own country or of our own family, the former taught in schools and the latter passed down through the generations, often incomplete. I did learn a bit about the Chinese Civil War between Communist Mao Zedong and Nationalist Chiang Kai-shek in school but certainly didn't learn it in depth, especially the atrocities that accompanied this brutal war. Author Eve J. Chung was also unaware of the whole of this history and of the extent of the suffering that her own grandmother faced during this period in her life. Daughters of Shandong is Chung's attempt at giving a fictionalized voice to the grandmother who survived so much and never shared the full extent of the trauma that marked her life.

Hai Ang is a child, the oldest daughter of the Ang heir. That she is a daughter makes her less than in the eyes of the family, especially her cruel grandmother. She tries hard to be a dutiful daughter, even as she watches her mother be cruelly abused and denigrated for not producing a male heir for the next generation, birthing only daughter after daughter. Although her family is wealthy and land-owning, Hai, her younger sisters, and their mother are treated poorly, akin to the peasants who work the Ang land. Hai suffers throughout much of the story, first as a "worthless" daughter in a family that only valued sons, then at the hands of the Communists intent on punishing this young girl for the landowner sins of her father and grandfather since the men had disappeared and couldn't be tried in person, and finally as a refugee fleeing almost certain death and enduring extreme hardship with her mother and sisters as they sought to find and be reunited in Taiwan with the family who left them behind without a second thought. The trials and tribulations that these women endure over the years are almost unbelievable; they move from harrowing experience to harrowing experience with only small tokens of hope or kindness between them. Hai is a fully sympathetic character, her mother is part downtrodden and submissive and part strength. Younger sister Di is the least likeable of the women (aside from the truly evil grandmother), retaining her selfishness despite the unceasing love and care she receives from Hai and their mother.

The story of the women's experiences and journey is a compelling one, at least until they are reunited with the family that discarded them. It is at this point that the narrative timeline compresses and wraps up each of the women's fates quickly and incompletely. I'd speculate that this is where the fictional Hai's story converges with what Chung knows for certain about her grandmother's story. It certainly feels like she had full creative control over the first three quarters of the novel but felt constrained to stay within the bounds of reality for the last quarter, making it impossible to fully flesh out a satisfying ending. Despite this shortcoming, this is an interesting tale of survival and the resilience of women and one that the majority of my book club thoroughly enjoyed.

The Princess by Wendy Holden

When I was ten, Prince Charles and Princess Diana got married. There was very little that was more romantic to a ten year old me than what appeared to be a fairy tale marriage happening. That it later went so very wrong was quite sad and the rest of the world has never stopped speculating about everything that happened, even though we all know (or think we know) all of the mitigating factors and where the bulk of the blame lies. In Wendy Holden’s novel, The Princess, she looks at Diana’s life through the eyes of a fictional childhood friend and then allows Diana to tell this friend the story of her courtship with the Prince.

Perhaps I should have expected a bit of a hagiography, given that the narrator of the novel remembers the youthful Diana with love, and recognizing that this is fictionalized (albeit based on books written by others who had access to Diana and to existing interviews), it was still disappointing to have such a saintly picture of the princess, rather than a picture of a fully human, flawed, but still much loved woman who lived every little girl’s dream once upon a time, even if that dream didn’t turn out to be the reality. In addition to the young, naive, and sainted Diana, there are chapters from the Queen Mums perspective as she plots to marry Charles off to someone suitable, and from Charles' own perspective as he initially tries to avoid this marriage and later capitulates to his duty. Charles does not come off as sympathetic as Diana but he is also drawn as a pawn to a large extent. Diana's unrealistic expectations and her deep desire to be loved the way she saw in romance novels (in spite of witnessing her own parents' terrible marriage) make her seem much younger than her 19 years. This is probably only a novel for diehard royal fans as it is quite frothy and light but it also doesn't add much dimension to Diana or truly imagine what this doomed marriage was like so fans might also feel as if they already know this fictionalized story from primary sources.

Memorial Days by Geraldine Brooks

Geraldine Brooks is an award winning journalist and Pulitzer Prize winning novelist. She had a many decades long, happy marriage to author and celebrated journalist Tony Horwitz with whom she had two sons. Her beautiful and moving memoir, Memorial Days, is her account of Horwitz’s sudden, unexpected death while he was on book tour, her days of shock navigating ridiculous bureaucracy immediately following his death, and then four years later on the sparsely populated island of Flinders off the coast of Australia when she finally took the time and space to go and be fully immersed in her grief.

She weaves her narrative back and forth between that terrible Memorial Day weekend in 2019 and her 2023 remote sojourn in a couple of small cottages far from people and civilization to reflect back on her shared life and love with Horwitz. She recounts the news of her husband’s death and the aftermath in a straightforward, objective way, reporting her reactions, the logistics of a last minute flight from their home in Martha’s Vineyard to DC on a holiday weekend, trying the convince medical professionals she wants and needs to see her husband’s body, telling her sons about their father’s death—preferably before they heard about it thanks to the speed of our current news cycle, having to face and/or learn the marital tasks that were always Horwitz’s purview, and more, all while trying to finish the novel that would become Horse. The 2023 chapters are more contemplative and emotional, examining her deep loss, finding solace in nature and aloneness, and allowing herself to stop trying to move forward and just to feel whatever it is she needs to feel. Brooks is a gorgeous writer and this is an intimate, honest, and personal look into what it is to lose a beloved spouse.

Barking Up the Right Tree by Leigh Russell

I have only recently started reading mysteries and since I’m a complete and total coward, I tend to gravitate to those that won’t scare me or give me nightmares. Usually that means golden age mysteries (or current iterations) or ones that are more caper than mystery. It sounds like cozy mysteries should work well for me but somehow they don’t. There’s something just a little light weight about them that turns me off. That doesn’t stop me from trying them periodically though. Unfortunately, Leigh Russell’s Barking Up the Right Tree, the first in a new cozy series, didn’t change my opinion on these types of mysteries.

When Emily loses her job and then gets dumped by her boyfriend, she has no idea what to do with her life. Then Emily discovers her long lost great aunt has died and left her a picturesque cottage in rural Ashton Mead. In order to properly inherit, she must take care of any pets that her great aunt pre-deceased and so after thinking that she’d only be taking care of a goldfish, she agrees to the terms. But in fact the pet is a loveable dog named Poppy. Poppy wants desperately to dig under the metal fence between the cottage and the garden next door, the owner of whom is not friendly at all. This escalates quickly into Emily deciding that next door’s daughter is missing. And it’s a short step from there for her to decide that her great aunt’s fatal fall was not an accident.

Emily is a completely insipid, and rather stupid character who doesn’t understand why her new friends think she’s over the top and can’t see that her boyfriend’s reappearance after she inherits the cottage is a huge issue. She makes snap judgments about people but then flip flops on her unearned judgments like she's going pro at it. The mystery itself stutters along until the very end, when it makes such a sharp left turn that it leaves the reader wondering if 2/3 of a cozy mystery was uncomfortably grafted onto 1/3 of a horror story with obviously visible Frankenstein stitches. The meshing of the two pieces of the plot is not well done, the main character is annoying, and the writing is unfortunately repetitious. I won't be reading further in this series.

Review: Under the Henfluence by Tove Danovich

I have no interest in having chickens myself but I am fascinated by them in theory. Plus I’m always happy to learn about new things so I can be that irritating person at dinner parties boring everyone with facts that I think are interesting and everyone else is over hearing about. I do, however, think that the facts in Tove Danovich’s non-fiction book about her own adventures with backyard chickens, and all the things that she learned about the hobby chicken industry along the way would be interesting to everyone.

When Danovich and her husband moved to Portland, she was able to start her long wished for backyard flock of chickens. She was enchanted with the fluffy little chicks she raised, and curious about the industry that brought the little peepers to her. Weaving anecdotes from her own girls with what she learns by interviewing people in the chicken industry, including people who show chickens, those who run a rooster rescue, own the hatchery, and more. While she celebrates the love of chickens and backyard flocks, she is not insensible to the terrible conditions that currently exist, especially at the industrial level, contrasting it with a far gentler history of chicken husbandry practiced by past generations. The horrors are hard to read (and might convince some to stop eating chicken altogether) but they are tempered by the delight of things like chicken training classes and the realistic, if somewhat sobering, picture surrounding the conservation of feral chickens in Hawaii.

The book is well researched and fact-filled. Danovich’s own experiences with her backyard flock are engaging. When she loses a chicken, the reader is crushed along with her. And both the personal and journalistic pieces are integrated together well, making this a fun and informative read. Those with a love for or fascination with chickens will definitely enjoy the read but those who just have a natural curiosity about the world will also be happily satisfied.

Merry Christmas and Happy Hanukah 2024

It’s been a year of ups and downs and while this letter isn’t as funny as it once was thanks to kids growing up, it does have a return to vomit, which I know you’ve all missed in recent years. With that fair warning, here’s our 2024:

January: K. ran the humid, sweaty Key West Half Marathon this month. It was a disaster of a run but she was delighted to see the polydactyl cats at the Hemingway House (where she—shockingly—bought a book).

February: D. was busy earning frequent flyer miles this month with business trips to Chicago, Las Vegas, and New York.

March: D. loves the cold and snow so much (HA!) that he went back to Chicago a couple of times this month, including over K.’s birthday. Still debating if it was to get out of giving her a gift or if the quiet of an empty house was the gift.

April: K. got D. tickets to a 3-day music festival that was this month. How to know you’re getting old? You definitely buy the more expensive tickets so you can have access to the private porta-potties, and the free beer, but mostly the porta-potties.

May: K. ran a marathon relay with friends. They took 3rd (of 3, but who’s counting?). K. and D. took a quick trip to Maui for work but they had to leave early to get to Ohio for T.’s college graduation. K. spent the last day of the trip seasick and puking over the side of a small adventure raft so she wasn’t entirely sorry to leave. After graduation, T. moved home, dumping his piles of stuff in the dining room and K.’s office, making it look like we live in an episode of Hoarders. When he and D. headed back to NC, K. went north to Michigan for the summer, where she ran a 10K with her sister. S. won their age group. K. wasn’t last (essentially a win as well) but she is holding a grudge that the fudge prize was not shared with her and was instead taken home to Florida to be shared with family who didn’t run the race.

June: T. sailed in Regionals this month and spent the rest of the month (and much of the summer) looking for a job.

July: D., W., and R. all came up to Michigan over the 4th joining K. and T. It was noisy and wonderful.

August: W. moved into a new apartment in Coral Springs and good parents that we are, we still haven’t seen it. T. sailed in an offshore weekend race in the Atlantic this month. Apparently it was rough seas, which K. was grateful to learn only after T. was safe on shore again since she’d already envisioned A Perfect Storm in her catastrophizing brain. Oh, and everyone on the boat was seasick (so it wasn’t just K. in Hawaii). K. and D. went to Ireland and Scotland for their 25th anniversary trip which Covid had delayed since 2020. Dave did his best to contribute to a nationwide Guinness shortage but he and the friends we traveled with for the Ireland leg were just not up to the task. There were only one or two instances of wrong way turning/driving (and a ton of backseat driving by K. the control freak) so all in all, a success.

September: K. decided that she and D. should take a bicycle tour of Arthur’s Seat outside of Edinburgh but all that happened was that she proved Scottish 5-year-olds are better at riding bikes than she is. After a full Superman over the bike handles, she had two broken ribs and a wrecked shoulder. She did get back on the bike and finish the tour but had to make the acquaintance of the Scottish NHS later that night. T. dog and cat sat while the parents were gone, luckily not starting his new job with AC Talent, working for Weaver Consultants Group in Frankfort, KY, until they were back. He moved into R. and J.’s spare bedroom for a couple of months but left 90% of his stuff at home so we wouldn’t miss him too much (or be able to walk through the dining room). He’s a CQA Technician and uses words like “hot trash,” “sludge viscosity,” and “methane” when describing his job. Delightful, right?! R. and J. got engaged this month. This means K. has to help plan a wedding and D. has to open the wallet enough to pay for it. (Please stop laughing now and say a prayer we don’t kill each other over it!) Another way to know we’re getting old? D. went out to San Francisco to Dreamforce again. Even he is exhausted by all of the schmoozing and partying and K. can’t stay awake long enough to answer a phone call made on Pacific time.

October: This month we had to say a hard goodbye to our sweet 14 ½ year old Gatsby. The house is quiet and sad without her. K. and R. flew up to Mackinac Island to look at possible wedding venues and while K. was brave enough to get back on a bike, she crashed again. No hospital needed this time but she’s taking this as her sign to stay off of bikes forever. When she got home, she was walloped by her first bout with Covid, which D. must have picked up at Dreamforce and kindly shared with her.

November: T. finally moved into his apartment and invited K. to come to Lexington to help him (aka buy him a bed and some other furniture). Why is it that our kids always seem to end up renting places on the highest possible floor in buildings without elevators?! D. didn’t go because he was in Baton Rouge for the LSU-Alabama game with his neighborhood friends (aka the Band of Idiots). His back thanked him for missing out on the move. He also missed snuggling with R. and J.’s sweet new puppy, Fitz, though, so he had to make up for that over Thanksgiving. That puppy’s feet never touched the ground.

Every month: Sammy (8 or 9) hisses at us if we pet him on a schedule he has not approved and Ozzie (6) alternates between K.’s lap and managing D. at work by lounging on the computer keyboard or loafing on the back of Dave’s chair during Zoom calls.

As the year comes to a close, we once again hope that you are surrounded by peace, love, and happiness now and throughout the coming year.

Review: Burst by Mary Otis

Mothers and daughters, perhaps one of the most written about relationships in literature. Is it because the relationships between mothers and daughters can be so fraught, so difficult, so complex? Or is it because it can be so wonderful, so loving, so close? Maybe it's because it can be (and often is) all of those things. And maybe it's because it is so easy to see a daughter becoming her mother, whether intentionally or not. Mary Otis' novel, Burst, is a study in a close and complicated mother daughter relationship, a love story and a mirror, a desire to be different, and all that that entails.

Charlotte and Viva are mother and daughter, best friends, and co-conspirators against the world. Charlotte is a single mother who is troubled and peripatetic (Viva's description on her college applications). She lives on a whim, pulling Viva with her on her adventures as she struggles with an alcohol addiction that leaves her unable to provide for Viva without help from random old friends and her strict older sister, but never from Viva's absent father. Money is always an issue and Charlotte bargains for survival with things she shouldn't. Viva grows up delighted to be her mother's co-pilot in life but learning things from Charlotte that she shouldn't, especially the way that alcohol eases many things. When, as a child, Viva discovers a true talent for dance, there's a chance that she can escape her upbringing until an accident makes clear just how fragile her own life is.

Starting in the 1970s and running through the 1990s, Charlotte and Viva's relationship grows and changes after disappointments and with a more grown-up understanding. The reader watches with sadness as Viva comes to recognize her mother's demons, and to acknowledge that she cannot banish them. That she falls prey to the same demons and darkness feels inevitable even as the reader hopes that she can conquer hers. The time periods of the novel are beautifully drawn with the nostalgia of the time wrapped in the melancholy of the story. The plot moves between Viva and Charlotte (including Charlotte's past as an aspiring artist before Viva) allowing each character's feelings and motivations to be fully explored beyond their relationship to each other. This is a novel about disappointment and love and all the layers of a life shared closely. It was hard to read about all of the poor choices both Charlotte and then Viva make, afraid to hope for resilience. And yet the reader cannot help feeling sorry for the things that derail these women, to want a better outcome than we expect, and for there to be understanding, self-love, and forgiveness in the end.