Luncheonette by Steven Sorrentino

Steven Sorrentino was in his early 20's, happily living in New York City, going to auditions, dreaming about performing on Broadway, meeting eligible men, and just generally heading his life in the direction of his choosing when he goes home to New Jersey for a Christmas that will change his life forever. He's met at the door by his mother who tells him that something is wrong with his father. What follows is a medical nightmare that ends with his father paralyzed from the nipples down and Steven putting his own life on hold to take over running dad's luncheonette, abandoning his Broadway dream, and stepping firmly back into the closet required of suburban New Jersey in the early 80's.

This memoir of the years Sorrentino spent at the luncheonette, becoming bitter and frustrated as his father faced more and more health setbacks with smiles and grace is an instructive one. He never glosses over his anger about his situation and his disbelief at his father's relentless cheer in the face of so much loss and while it is clear from the book that he has learned a lot from his father's approach to life, Sorrentino lets the reader see just how difficult and hard fought it was for him to come to understand and appreciate the lesson his father taught him about life and persevering in the face of adversity. He is unafraid to come off looking less than his best. To the outside world he was a wonderful and dutiful son but inside he was seething and unhappy.

Cliff Sorrentino is not a fatalist and he goes about living his life to the fullest, without bemoaning his fate. He runs for mayor and triumphs, his paralysis not holding him back, even as Steven continues closing himself off to any attempt to break free of the stultifying, joyless life he's leading behind the luncheonette counter. Sorrentino has a real talent at drawing the character of the regulars at Cliff's Corner. They start out one dimensional as he hopes that his tenure at the luncheonette will be short-lived but he fleshes them out as he gets to know them over the intervening years. Their little ticks and eccentricities go from being mildly entertaining to annoying as Sorrentino's patience with his lot decreases. There's no epiphany here for Sorrentino and his luncheonette years will probably always be tender like a wound but in the end, this is a loving tribute to the man who taught him by example and gave him a new way to live, no matter how hard following that example might have turned out to be. Fans of unconventional memoirs will quite appreciate this book.

Review: Welcome to the Departure Lounge: Adventures in Mothering Mother by Meg Federico

In this non-fiction account of taking care of her aging mother, Meg Federico has tapped into an experience that more and more people are facing. Over a ten year span of time, Federico faced the nuttiness, the anxiety, the exhaustion, and the sheer terror and heart-break of finally having to parent a parent. Federico acknowledges that for the sake of the story she has minimized her siblings' contributions to her mother and step-father's care and that Addie and Walter were blessed with enough money to live through most of this period of time in their own home under the care of home care aides, unlike many aging folks out there. There are hard truths about aging here but Federico leavens these truths with humor. She doesn't flinch from admitting the toll it took on her, her husband , and her children, to be a long-distance caretaker to two people who not only faced dementia but a litany of other chronic health-care issues as well. Walter started ordering sexual aids through the mail. Addie drank to excess. Both of them waged outright war with certain of their aides. But even at their most bizarre or outrageous, they are, at the end of the day, waging a losing battle against the ravages of time and their children have no choice but to try and conduct them to the end of the war as easily as possible.

This book is both terrible and hilarious. It is well-written and honest. What is very clear throughout all of Federico's dealings with her mother is how much she does what she does out of love and not obligation, even when being there for Addie is its most grueling and difficult. I don't know that we have a choice in how we age, whether we are going to become completely irrascible and cantankerous, or if we will meekly accept what others deem to be in our best interest. Does it depend on our prior dispositions? In Federico's musings on both Addie and Walter's personalities before the ravages of age changed them, we see seeds of the elderly people they become but those seeds were certainly tempered by other aspects of their personalities that seem to have faded under the onslaught of the stronger (and ultimately nuttier) aspects that ruled the last ten years of life. And learning to adjust to and accept these stronger personalities is one of the challenges for a child taking care of her elderly parent. As I read along in this, I couldn't help but laugh, even as I gasped in horror at the indignities incumbent in growing old. There is a card or plaque or bumper sticker out there somewhere that tells us that "Growing Old Isn't For Sissies" and this book certainly supports the sentiment wholeheartedly. In the end, after Addie's death, Federico imagines her response to this difficult and love-filled memoir of the end of life and of the ten year long journey Federico herself took with her mother towards this end. And her imagined response beautifully encapsulates so much of their relationship that it is likely to leave you with a smile on your face and tears shimmering in your eyes.

Review: The River of Doubt by Candice Millard

Subtitled Theodore Roosevelt's Darkest Journey, this tells the story of Roosevelt's trip into South America to map an unknown Amazon tributary after his defeat for a third Presidency. Equal parts true life adventure story, biographical portrait of a larger than life politician, and South American history, this is a generally interesting, sometimes gripping story I had never heard before. I will admit that my knowledge of long dead presidents is fairly sketchy and generally limited at best to their major accomplishments (or failures) in office, but I did have some inkling of the adventure-junky aspect of Roosevelt's character. After all, which school child hasn't heard about the hunting trip that resulted in the naming of the teddy bear or about his African safaris or about his Rough Riders? But about the expedition down an uncharted tributary of the Amazon, nothing.

After his final defeat, Roosevelt obviously needed something to take his mind off the political failure and to test him physically, despite suffering from numerous ailments that would have kept a less determined man from the hardship and danger that faced him in the Amazonian jungle. The South American officer leading the expedition wanted to chart the course of the the River of Doubt. The museum naturalists accompanying the former president wanted to catalog new species of plant and animal. The Catholic father who had been the originator of the plan wanted a South American adventure. Kermit Roosevelt was along to make sure no ill came to his father. And the local men were there to paddle the inadequate log boats and do most of the hardest work of the journey. Like all good adventure stories, this has murder and hardship and ultimate survival only by the skin of the men's teeth. It has inadequate knowledge coupled with appalling risks and near starvation. And it has the larger than life figure of Theodore Roosevelt. Even with all of this, there are still times when Millard's narrative bogs down in details. The journey took far longer than anyone had anticipated and perhaps drawing the narrative out was intended to mimic the increasingly desperate slog down the river in a race against time but the end especially really dragged until the men emerge from the renamed Roosevelt River. Once the objective of conquering the river has been met, Millard speeds the narrative on, giving a quick overview of what happened to all the notable (or traceable) men of the party.

I didn't originally want to read this book when it was chosen by my bookclub but it certainly turned out to be more interesting that I had suspected. Ultimately I ended up liking it but I can see my friend's argument that it was dry. I will pass it along to my husband as he's a history buff for whom I suspect it will be a perfect read.

Review: My Girl: Adventures with a Teen in Training by Karen Stabiner

I was shelving my books (almost done with that--woohoo!) and ran across this book. Given that I am living with a teen in training (well, two but only one of the girl variety) right now, I thought I should probably read this sooner rather than later. Of course, it made me a bit nervous given my policy that ignorance is bliss as to what's coming my way as a parent of teens. But since it was sitting on my shelf looking topical and just asking to be read, I heeded its advice and opened its cover. This is the memoir of a few years (ten to fourteen) in the life of Stabiner and her daughter Sarah. Stabiner's premise is that very few kids actually go through what we think of as the standard and horrible teen years and she presents her life with Sarah as proof that being a pre-teen and teen doesn't mean morphing into a Queen Bee or Wannabe and just plain being nasty. The book is both anecdotes of their life and a look at why we have the impressions we do of the teen years and how our children will behave then. I'd be quite curious to see what she thinks of life from fourteen to eighteen or twenty, not simply because I am a pessimist but because I can already see in my own pre-teen daughter that the young teen years are liable to be less fraught than the later years just given her personality and her current mostly naive innocence. But I suspect that many of the hurdles that kids and or parents stumble over come later in the teen years when the stakes are higher and the problems can be so much bigger. This is, of course, not covered in a book that stops at the fourteenth birthday party. But Stabiner and her daughter obviously navigated the years covered with grace and only occasional falling-outs. She doesn't really offer a roadmap for as smooth a ride as possible as much as she offers the reassurance that it can be smoother than you might expect. In some ways, this was reassuring and in others the skeptic in me screamed, "Anecdotal evidence and therefore meaningless!" Several weeks on from reading this, I am still uncertain how I feel about this book, making me suspect that I think it's a lukewarm, "It was fine" sort of read.

Review: Losing My Religion by William Lobdell

This is an honest, thoughtful, and fascinating memoir about Lobdell's struggles with religion. The book opens with an accounting of the ways in which his life is going wrong and a friend's quiet assurance that Lobdell needs to walk with God to find the peace he so desires. Taking this to heart, Lobdell starts going to church, eventually becoming born-again. Eager to share his newly minted faith, as he moves from the church that drew him back into the fold, to a Protestant church, and ultimately into RCIA classes to become a Catholic, journalist Lobdell decides that God has called him to write about religion so he pitches the idea to his bosses. Initially he doesn't get the job but eventually, his dream comes true and he starts writing about faith, and not just his Christian faith, in a way that few other journalists have attempted. But all is not well with Lobdell's faith as he starts uncovering the nasty side of organized religion. He was on the front lines as the pedophile priest scandal rocked the Catholic church and he examined in depth a rather seedy (but quite wealthy) televangelist who fleeces his congregation among other stories. And as Lobdell plunges farther into the stories, he starts to lose his belief in God. His journey into and out of faith took him years and I suspect that it isn't quite finished, as Lobdell himself says he's not entirely comfortable with his unbelief but which path the next leg of his journey will take remains to be seen. His writing on faith and its lack is respectful and thoughtful. And he has obviously spent much time reaching the conclusions he has but he never denigrates those around him who have managed to hold onto their faith in the face of what he says is overwhelming evidence that it is unfounded. His writing is direct and honest and his journey is definitely painful. But I for one am glad he allowed us to walk with him, even if I'm not certain I come to the same conclusions he does.

Review: That Went Well by Terrell Harris Dougan

I hadn't heard of this book before I read a fellow book blogger's post saying that she had gotten it as a review book in the mail. After doing a little research on it, I commented on her blog that I was interested in reading it as well. Little did I expect that to lead to a review copy in my own mailbox, but it did. And I am not only glad that I heard about this book but I am also very grateful for the opportunity to read it and let all of you know about it too. Dougan has written quite a lovely book in her book That Went Well: Adventures in Caring for My Sister. Dougan's younger sister Irene is mentally disabled. This memoir covers the time from Irene's birth to the present, when Dougan has taken care of Irene, both now in their sixties, in one way or another, for years. Dougan doesn't flinch from telling the hard bits about having a mentally disabled sister but she leavens this with large doses of humor and love, also part and parcel of their lives. She tells of the toll that Irene's disability wreaked on their family but also the wonderful positives that came of it: when her parents were told that Irene couldn't go to school, they started their own to serve the children and later adults who had been left out of mainstream public education, knowing that all people deserve access to an education. Dougan joined in the crusade when she was old enough, advocating for Irene and many others like her. And when the Harris parents both passed away, Dougan took on the full time care of Irene even as she raised her own family, overseeing Irene's caregivers in the apartment where she could live on her own, keeping track of Irene's medical needs, and just generally being available when Irene or her companions needed her. The book is organized into fairly short chapters given that it spans 60 years and there were portions where I wished for more detail or extended versions of the entertaining bits she was recounting, but overall, this was a very sweet, candid tale of two sisters, both of whom have greatly enriched her sister's life.

Sunday Salon: Review: Lucky Girl by Mei-Ling Hopgood

Lucky Girl is a a memoir by Mei-Ling Hopgood, a Tawain born girl child who was given up to be adopted by an American couple living just outside of Detroit. This might not seem like such an unusual story but given that Hopgood was adopted in 1974, it is a story from the infancy of international adoptions. Not only was Hopgood among the first children adopted from outside the country, but her circumstances were incredibly unusual as well. As an adult, she was given the unique experience of not only reconnecting with her birth family, but being embraced as the lucky daughter adopted out and embraced again with open arms. The memoir itself talks of Hopgood's growing up as the oldest child (her parents later adopted two younger brothers from Korea as well) in the blue-collar Detroit suburb of Dearborn. She mentions but doesn't focus much on the fact that she and her parents were so obviously of different races and perhaps she didn't experience much racism at all, although she speaks of her desire to distance herself from anything Asian. As she scrolls through her memories of childhood and adolescence, she also writes of her almost unintentional discovery of the family she left behind, a family who didn't quite match her imaginings. Over time, and with the blessing of her parents, she visits and comes to know her birth family: the sisters who were not given away, the brother adopted in when no boy was born and lived, and the other sister who was given away as well. Hopgood was very blessed in the parents who adopted her, especially when she was coming to terms with being the "discarded" child trying to understand how her birth family could possibly make that decision. She must wrestle with not only trying to understand a decision that was decades old, but also with the understanding of who these biological family members were and are now. There has certainly been enough in her life that could make her uncomfortable in her own skin, but with the loving grounding of her atill somewhat awkwardly integrated family, it would seem, in the end that Hopgood has come to forgiveness and a peace about the lucky path her life traveled.

I thoroughly enjoyed this memoir and the look at what an adopted child must feel when faced with the large and boisterous family Hopgood found. Having lived outside of Detroit myself, I was familiar with the landscape of her childhood and found the common ground there to give me just that extra bit of joy at the recognition of schools and places. I'm certain that Hopgood censored some of her feelings a bit out of courtesy towards family members but overall this was an interesting look into a very complicated situation that is probably going to become more common as today's international adoptees grow older. Recommended. My thanks to the lovely folks at Algonquin Books for the chance to read the Advanced Reader's Copy.