Molokai

Rachel Kalama is an average six year old. She is mischievous, she hates wearing shoes and she fights with her sister.  Her Father is a sailor and he mails her dolls from all the faraway lands he visits. Her life is ordinary in Hawaiian terms. Until a patch of thick, feelingless skin shows up on her leg. Her mother tries to hide it. Leprosy is a worse sentence than death in Hawaii. Rachel’s Uncle Pono contracted the disease. The government searched for him. They found him. They took him away from his family and sent him to die. But no matter how hard Rachel’s mother tries, she can’t hide the leprosy forever. Soon, Rachel’s condition is discovered. The six year old is taken from her home, her family, her beloved father. She is sent to Molokai, the leper’s island, where the sick are sent to die, out of sight and out of mind of the public. Sent to die, but Rachel’s life is just beginning.

Alan Brennert’s writing is smooth and easy to read. His passion for Hawaiian history and people is evident through his meticulous detail of the islands. The book was steady and constant, but didn’t throw in too many surprises. Taking on a character’s entire life is difficult to do. The reader tends to lose interest. It’s hard to make a character constant and relatable throughout eighty years.

Pros: Little talked about issues with an easy reading style, great word pictures and writing that generates a response in the reader.

Cons: Too long of a book with unoriginal characters. He essentially bit off more than he could chew and a result, chunks of Rachel’s life are glossed over.

For me, the novel dragged on a bit long. I thoroughly enjoyed it however, and I cried for the last 100 pages straight. Brennert does a good job of making the reader care about what happens to Rachel. The book spans from the dark ages of leprosy in the late 1800s all the way to its cure in the 1970s. Molokai isn’t just a book about leprosy, Hawaii, or even the island Molokai. It is a story about ambition, obstacles, and peace with our lot in life, no matter what it may be. Joy can be found in the saddest of things and beauty can be found in the ugliest of things. That’s what makes life livable. That’s what Brennert tells us. I just wish it didn’t take so long to do so.

 

Coming up…

On the docket is a review for the novel Molokai, a review of The Impossible, as well as the Great Gatsby. For now, listen to the most incredible song by the greatest songstress this universe has ever known. Florence and the Machine, singing Over the Love:

Life of Pi

Life of Pi promised a lot: the possibility of finding true God, a look at human and animal relationships, finding a purpose in life. But the book failed to deliver.

Piscine Molitaire Patel lives in India with his parents and brother Ravi. They operate the Pondicherry Zoo. Due to the unrest in India in the 1970s, Pi’s father makes the decision to move the family to Canada. They sell the zoo and the animals are packed on the freighter with them, to be sold in North America.

Pi (Piscine’s self-given nickname so the kids will stop calling him ‘Pissing’) is a Hindu/Christian/Muslim teen. Let’s get one thing straight- those three religions do not compute. You cannot believe all of them unless you too stupid to know the difference or if you don’t believe the foundations of all of them. Hinduism has 33 million gods. So throwing a few more in there isn’t a big deal, which is why Pi can justify believing in multiple religions. I don’t know much about Islam, but its pretty hard core about its practices and beliefs. And true Christianity denies all other religions as a pathway to God. These religions are so diametrically opposed. But does Yann Martel illustrate that? Of course not. He sets up an imaginary meeting between three leaders of the religions. And their arguments are unrealistic, faulty and plain stupid. Any priest or imam that can’t articulate the fundamentals of his religion isn’t really a priest or imam.

The first half of the book is riddled with questions (and wrong answers) about God, and the second half largely leaves God out. Was this intentional? I’m sure it was, but the two sections seem divorced from each other. And that to me is bad writing, not bad reading on my part.

Through a series of unfortunate events, Pi is shipwrecked, and he the only survivor. Well, he, a zebra, a hyena, an orang-utan named Orange Juice, and a tiger named Richard Parker. Soon, only Pi and the tiger remain. What ensues is an epic (although impossible) story of survival for 227 days in the lifeboat. In the end, they wash up on the shore in Mexico. And Richard Parker walks into the jungle, without ever turning back. Pi is upset that he never got the chance to say goodbye to his greatest enemy, friend and saviour.

In the end, Pi forces us to question the entirety of his story. Two men from the insurance agency looking into the sinking of the ship. Pi tells them his story. The two men don’t believe him. So Pi asks if they want another story. One that is more believable. One that doesn’t have animals or a carnivorous island. They say yes. So Pi tells another story, this one with humans surviving the shipwreck. A cook, he (Pi), his mother and a sailor. He tells a story of the cook being a savage man, one who killed and ate the sailor, and eventually Pi’s mother. Pi says he killed the cook himself. And this leaves us asking: which story is true? Is the first just a metaphor for the second? One that shows the animal-like savagery in our nature? One that sets up and understanding for the second? Did he just make the second story up to satisfy the insurance men? We don’t know.

This is a clever twist. One that makes you think. I appreciate what Martel was trying to do. He was trying to add more depth to his story. He was trying to make his book greater literature, literature that perhaps does more than entertains, but one that asks questions. To be honest, I thought it was lazy. Interesting, but lazy. Instead of incorporating the deep questions into the body of the story, instead of showing human nature, instead of asking who God is, instead of illustrating his point, he discredits it and expects us to do the rest. It’s a very post-modern story in the end. Who can say what Truth is? Who can say which story is true and which isn’t? Who says that an answer exists?

Now, after I read the book, I watched the movie. And while the storyline is similar, and in some ways identical, I got a very different feel from the movie. The visuals in the movie are stunning and the acting is great. That aside, God is woven throughout the story. At one point there is a huge storm. Pi yells at the storm, “What more do you want from me, God? What more can you take?” It’s a powerful scene. Pi believes he sees God in the storm. He rips the tarpaulin off the boat, he exposes Richard Parker to the fury of the waves and the wind. He almost kills him. The cat is thrown about, realistically resulting in broken bones, but that isn’t explicitly revealed in the movie.

The movie also omits some of the incoherent, random and plain non-sensical parts of the book. In the book, Pi talks to Richard Parker and he talks back. This is seen as the madness of a boy dying of thirst. Okay, I can buy that.  They are both blind with malnutrition. (Possible? Not sure.) Another life boat floats up. Somebody is in that boat. He too is out of supplies. He and Pi talk and then he climbs into Pi’s boat. Pi tries to warn him about the tiger. He’s too late. Richard Parker attacks and kills the man. Pi crawls into the other life boat and finds that the man lied. He had some supplies, which helps Pi survive until he comes upon a strange floating island covered in algae and inhabited solely by Meer cats. The island supplies Pi and Richard Parker with food. But the island turns carnivorous at night to all who are on the ground or in the water. Pi and the Meer cats sleep in trees. Richard Parker sleeps in the boat. Pi realizes the island is a lonely place where he will eventually die, so he gathers as much provisions as he can and then sets sail again. The movie includes the floating island, but not the strange, possible imaginary conversations between the boy and tiger and unnamed man.

This was a weird section of the book, one that isn’t really talked about much afterwards. I’m glad the movie omitted it. I’m not sure what Martel’s point was in telling us this. Apparently movie makers thought it was weird and unimportant as well. When Pi tells his second story to the insurance agents in the movie, he tells it much more convincingly than in the book. The book left me thinking that Pi just wanted to confuse and satisfy the agents. The movie made it a much more plausible possibility. He cries while telling it. He says he’ll never forget the cries of his mother.

Aside from that discrepancy, I liked the movie better than the book. The book was drawn out, focused on religion entirely too much without giving answers, and was too post-modern for my liking. The movie has its problems as well, and I almost wish they left the alternate story out of the movie. It would be very different from the book, but it would be superficial enough to make me happy. The relationship between Richard Parker and Pi is much deeper in the movie. At one point, Pi takes the tiger’s head in his lap and strokes his head. This made me cry. I have deep relationships with animals and that scene really hit home with me. Ultimately, the movie showed that savage beasts can put aside their savagery. They’re human, in a way. The book never alleged this. I listened to a podcast on Plugged in Online about the movie. (Podcast 177, available here: http://www.pluggedin.ca/familyroom/podcast.aspx) What Bob Smithouser said was exactly what I felt after the movie. “It was like looking into the eyes of a beautiful animal with no soul.”

Wild(ly engaging but unfortunately false)

I don’t think I’ve ever read an autobiography, so I didn’t know what to expect when my boss handed me Wild and said I should read it because she had enjoyed it so much. I finished the two books I had been reading, and started the book. Wild chronicles the author’s experience in hiking the Pacific Crest Trail following the death of her mother and the dissolution of her marriage Cheryl Strayed was at the end of her rope. When her mother died at 46, Cheryl’s life slowly collapsed. She lost contact with her step father and her siblings. She cheated numerous times on her husband Paul, for no reason other than she felt like it. She still loved Paul. He still loved her. But that wasn’t enough to save their marriage. They divorced. They remained best friends but Cheryl knew she needed a change. A big one. She got tangled up in heroin use. She read a book on the PCT and decided she would hike it. Everyone thought she was crazy. She did too. But she scraped up enough money to buy all she needed and then she set out. She was hopelessly under experienced and underestimated how hard the voyage would be. But she kept at it. And along the way, she healed. She forgave her mother for dying. She ultimately forgave herself.

Like I said, I’ve never really read an autobiography so I didn’t know what to expect. The writing was candid and engaging, and the pace of the story was consistent. The amount of detail in the story is crazy, considering Strayed wrote this memoir more than a dozen years after she completed it. She said she kept a journal, which is why she has such detailed information. She also must have an amazing memory, because no amount of journal notes would allow me to write down three months of conversations, verbatim. Hiking such a long way is an interesting feat and it got me thinking about hiking. I doubt I could ever do a long distance hike such as this one. I’m a student, and taking endless months off of work or school is out of the question. But I think a weekend hiking or even a week would be beyond cool. I love walking and running and the outdoors. I ride outside for hours every week and I run 2 miles everyday. What the book lacked, though, was substance, morality, a clear message. The subtext for the book title is “From lost to found on the Pacific Crest Trail”. I agree that Cheryl was lost. But was she found? I don’t think so. The taxing physical journey led to an inward journey for Cheryl, where I expected she would realize her blame, her wrong-doings. Where she would realize that everyone is lost without God. No, she chose to forgive herself, when she never really took responsibility in the first place. It was a muddy transformation that had no roots in any kind of spirituality or moral ground. It was an incomplete transformation. She learned to rely on herself, to be alone. She continues to be lost because she thinks she has found the answer. Trust yourself, rely on yourself, have faith in no one and nothing but yourself. But that is utter folly. We will always fail ourselves. The only way to be truly found is to surrender yourself to God. Trusting yourself is a sure way to be eternally lost, because we are fallen. And when the blind lead the blind, they both fall in a ditch. True joy does not come from serving ourselves, but by becoming a servant to others. Our sinful hearts cannot be trusted. And Cheryl Strayed has strayed from the path of what could have been redemption, but now has found “peace” in the lies of a hopeless world. Much of what she says is applicable, and even truth, but the book as a whole is riddled with muddy ideas and ultimately, philosophy that will not save souls, but lose them.

Hide and Go Read this book

I quite enjoyed Hide and Seek. I read it in 2 days, and although I’m increasingly frustrated with how static the plotline of the series is, I can’t stop reading the series. I’m wondering what I’m getting myself into. Sara Shepard’s last series was like twelve books. And I’m afraid this series will be just as long. Every book crosses off another suspect for Sutton’s murder. This book revealed quite a bit about the night Sutton died, which was a relief. There were too many questions before this book. I love that the books are told from a dead Sutton’s point of view. This is totally unique and fresh to me. Luckily, the book gave a major revelation- something I’ve been waiting for for a long time. See, every book so far has had the same structure. Emma is increasingly guilty about Sutton’s family not knowing that Sutton is dead. Emma suspects someone close to her as Sutton’s murderer. She takes vague, circumstantial evidence and twists it in her head and thinks that someone is guilty. She cries, she gets scared, she can’t pin the murder on them and at the climax, the person, without meaning to, reveals that they had an alibi for Sutton’s murder. Back to square one.

In this latest instalment, Mr. Mercer is the prime suspect. Apparently Sutton and Thayer saw Mr. Mercer with a woman in the canyon the night Sutton died. Emma finds this woman and wants to meet with her. She thinks Mr. Mercer is having an affair and he killed Sutton to hide it. But, it turns out that that woman is Sutton and Emma’s mother, Becky, who now goes by Raven. The woman who gave Sutton up and birth and raised Emma for a few years before leaving her on a friend’s doorstep and never coming back. Mr. Mercer is Becky’s father. Her father, making him Sutton and Emma’s grandfather. My jaw dropped. Bombshell. Unfortunately it doesn’t really shed any more light on the murder situation, but this is a big development. Most importantly, it means that Emma is already living with family. And if/when she reveals who she really is, maybe, just maybe, they can forgive her. Maybe she can live with them. Because she is their granddaughter as well. At the end of the book, as per usual, there is a new prime suspect: Becky, aka Raven. This to me is a bit weak, but I guess Shepard ran out of other suspects. I desperately hope that she has a plan for all this. Because if she is just winging it and the ending doesn’t make perfect sense I will be angry. Very angry. I just hope the subsequent books continue to satisfy, and move the plot along more steadily.

The tragic love triangle strikes again in “Hallowed”

Cynthia Hand took a tired, over-used storyline and made it a little bit newer.

Clara is caught between her love for Tucker, and her inevitable destiny with Christian. Tucker is her boyfriend. He’s a southern gentleman- chivalrous, handsome and likes to get a little mud on the tires. Christian is also part angel, drop dead gorgeous,  and he and Clara can read each other’s minds, that’s how in sync they are. Who to choose? May I just say that although this series is interesting, it is entirely unrealistic. No girl has two hot, sweet guys who want to be with her at the same time. I’m pretty sure it’s been proven impossible. To top it all off, Clara’s brother is in a downward spiral, and someone Clara loves will die. And she’s bent on fighting her purpose- indefinitely.

The love triangle gets old fast, but at least Hand tries to explain it a little bit. Clara marvels over and over again that this is happening to her.  And the narrative voice is candid and fresh. The pace throughout the book is even and methodical, with climax built up well and action spaced evenly. There are enough new characters and major revelations to make the book a continuation of the book before it, but also enough for a sequel. It’s a good book, mostly fluff however, unfortunately. There are no major moral implications, no grandiose themes about life or love or loss. Just a teenage girl type of read. I should really move away from these kinds of books. I should read more Tolkein, Dostoyevsky, Lewis. But they’re not as fun, not as mindless, not as captivating. The only book I’ve read that is actually riddled with complex, applicable themes while remaining utterly not put down-able is Barbara Kingsolver’s The Poisonwood Bible. And Steven James’ Patrick Bowers novels are a close second. Get your hands on those books if you can. They’re so worth your time and money.

On an unrelated note, does anyone else have trouble with the “site views” counter on WordPress? Mine isn’t logging many of the views I’ve had. Website: 7 people like this post. Me: cool, let’s check how views my page has gotten. Website: Zero. Me: Really? 7 people liked my post without clicking on my page? How magical. -_-

Sorry.

The Virgin Cure

Moth is a girl from the wrong side of the tracks. Born to a life of poverty, she lives with her fortune-telling mother, waiting for her father to return. Moth doesn’t know why she misses him. She doesn’t know why her mother loved him. But if he came back, maybe things would be better. Moth is not ignorant to her situation she figures Mama will wait until she’s thirteen before she’s expected to grow up. Thirteen before she leaves. But no, Mama sells young Moth at twelve, to become a maid in a wealthy woman’s house. The woman is abusive, borderline mad. Moth escapes, but she has nowhere to go. Mama is no longer at their house on Chrystie Street.  Moth comes to meet Miss Everett, who runs a high end brothel, selling off virginity to the highest bidder. Moth knows this, but she has little choice. At least at Miss Everett’s she has food in her belly, a roof over her head and she can make more money than any other way. It’s not the life she dreamed for herself, but despite the perks of being an almost-whore, there are dangers as well.

The virgin cure was the belief that men could be cured of syphilis by deflowering a virgin girl. If the idea of grown men purchasing the virginity of young girls isn’t bad enough, they were often diseased and passed this on to the girls, resulting in the girls becoming societal pariahs and eventually dying of the illness. Girls Moth knows fall prey to this, and Moth knows she has to get out. With the help of Dr. Sadie, Moth strives to be self-sufficient, answering only to herself.

Moth’s relationship with her mother is complex and Mama’s influence has a lasting effect on Moth’s psyche. Not a chapter goes by where Moth didn’t mention what Mama said, what Mama did, what Mama thought. Moth herself doesn’t realize how much her mother affected her, mostly because she doesn’t want to believe it. Mama didn’t love her and Mama lived a sad life. Whether she likes it or not, Moth’s gypsy roots define her much more than she recognizes.

The Virgin Cure is the second novel from Ami McKay, and this book’s format is similar to The Birth House, told mostly in first person, interjected with newspaper clippings, letters and doctor’s notes. Both of McKay’s novels were inspired by things that relate closely to her. McKay found that her house used to be a birth house, hence her first novel. And it turns out that McKay had a relative who was in fact a woman doctor who worked in Manhattan with the poor in the 1880s. Dr. Sadie’s character is based on McKay’s relative. McKay’s connection to the subject matter and passion for history is a winning combination. Moth is a likeable, witty and savvy girl who takes her destiny in her own hands, with the help of her friends. It’s an empowering theme that is consistent with The Birth House. On a more superficial level, the book is slow moving with little action. The developed writing style keeps the audience reading but it’s not an edge-of-your-seat read. Too bad it couldn’t be profound and exciting.

Unearthly

Clara is an average girl. She lives in California with her mom and brother Jeffery. She attends high school and is popular, pretty and friendly. Not as popular as Jeffery, but popular enough for comfort. Oh yeah, her mother is half angel, Dimidius and that makes her ¼ angel, Quartarius. She has wings, she can speak any language fluently and she’s faster and stronger than humans. Average? Not quite. Every angel-blood has a purpose, Mom says. She keeps seeing a vision of a forest fire and aboy she’s supposed to save. So they uproot their comfortable life and move to Wyoming where they’ve established Clara’s vision takes place. Clara’s no longer popular and normal. She’s here for a purpose. One she’s not sure she can complete. Angels always accomplish their purposes right? It’s destiny. Or can they fail? And if they do, what happens? Clara just hopes she doesn’t find out.

 This book stems from a peculiar verse in Genesis. Genesis 6:4 says, “The Nephilim were on the earth in those days-and also afterward- when angels went in to the daughters of men and had children by them. They were the heroes of old, men of renown.”  So I guess angels living among us is not a totally outlandish claim. The book is written by Cynthia Hand, her first book. (What’s with me and reading authors’ first books?) On the surface the book seems like another teenaged girl love story. It is much more than that though. I was surprised at the depth of Hand’s writing, as well as her attention to detail. Despite this, however, it does have a very narrow target age group: teenage girls. As such, it can be somewhat superficial. Boys, fulfilling destiny, first love, fallen angels, school, God, kissing. Quite the mix up. It’s good. Better than I expected. But not earth-shattering. Perhaps I’m expecting too much. This is the first book in the series of the same name. The second book, Hallowed, made its American debut in January of 2012 and there are plans for a third. I hope there are only three books. I don’t really want to get invested in another long series (Oops, The Lying Game). Suspense and climax is built up well and the author gave just enough of a cliff hanger to keep audiences satisfied but eager and curious to read ensuing novels. I’m one of them.

The Birth House

Dora Rare is the first girl born to a Rare man in five generations. Long after her aboriginal great-great-great grandfather’s cinnamon skin diluted out of the gene pool, Dora is born female and she looks like a Native-rare three times over. She’s special, she’s different. Dora isn’t sure she wants to be different. The kids make mean rhymes about her and the older women see her as a menace. Her gaze causes the pregnant to miscarry, animals and humans alike, the superstitious farmers say. Dora ignores them, happy to not be included in their petty lives of tea and silk, earth and whisky. Dora helps Miss Babineau, Acadian midwife who is not one of the small community’s socially acceptable people. Miss B helps the women with their problems and they in turn leave her bread or potatoes, or whatever they can spare. But they do not speak to her outside of her small healing hut. Dora becomes her apprentice, unwillingly at first. She is left alone to battle the doctors for the right for women to have their babies in whatever way they see fit. To fight for midwifery, to fight for freedom, in however small a way.

The Birth House is Ami McKay’s first novel, a sort of literary scrapbook filled with newspaper clippings, letters and journal entries chronicling Dora’s life. Dora is sort of a magic child. Beyond her gender and dark skin, the author mentions that on one occasion she relayed a message to her aunt from a dead relative. Many of the healing balms, salves and drinks are accompanied with a prayer to Mary, something Dora learned from Miss B. In any case, there is an element of spiritualism found in Dora that the blond haired and doe-eyed women of Scots Bay do not possess. The story follows Dora’s life from adolescence through marriage and its after-effect, and on until she discovers her true calling.

McKay is a refreshingly new Canadian voice in literature. The book was melodically written with haunting rhythms and echoes. And Dora is a refreshing heroine, completely natural, relatable and interesting. Far too often I find the main characters in books have the least personality. I quite enjoyed the book and hope to read any subsequent novels from Ami McKay. The content was not always riveting but it was interesting enough to keep me coming back for more, subtly elegant and I always found myself quite enjoying the book for no reason that I could put my finger on.

Blood Red Road

What do you get when you combine The Hunger Games with misspelled words and dusty landscape? Blood Red Road.

Blood Red Road is Moira Young’s debut novel. It is written in 1^st person narrative, from the point of view of unlikely heroine Saba. The book is post-apocalyptic, set any number of hundred years in the future. Not much history is given, but we, the past, are only referred to as the Wreckers. There are no cars, planes, hydro or large cities. Most people are scattered across the land in small pockets of families. There are a few larger towns, but they are places of crime and violence, where everyone is addicted to chaal, a plant that has strikingly similarities to tobacco or nicotine.  It seems that the mostly absent government controls the population by addicting people to chaal. They control the substance’s distribution and they have the towns eating out of their hand.

But Saba, her twin brother Lugh, sister Emmi and father are oblivious to this fact. They live off the dying land, their father in denial of the fact that they have to move because the resources in Silver Lake are gone. Father reads the stars and insists that they must stay where they are. In an unfortunate turn of events, Lugh is kidnapped, father is killed and Saba is left in charge of young Emmi, a sister she never wanted, a sister whose life exists because her mother’s doesn’t. Saba sets off to find Lugh and the men who took him, a boy born at Midwinter eighteen years earlier. Saba doesn’t understand why they need Lugh. All she knows is she will find him, and those men will pay. The ensuing one-man justice league and too-easily predicted love story are tired elements and I wish Young had been a bit more creative in her plot line. How about a young warrior teenager who doesn’t need a man to make her feel fulfilled? Perhaps that’s too radical of a notion.

      I tended to like the scrappy Saba. She’s smart and savvy despite having little experience. And the relationship between her and her sister is all too accurate. I may or may not have a similar relationship with a younger sister of mine. The book’s format is confusing however, due to all the misspelled words, which anyone who has read Uncle Tom’s cabin will remember with twitching dread. The words are misspelled to give the reader a sense of how the words would sound when spoken by the characters. I associate these accents with uneducated people and to me it diminishes the credibility of a narrator because they seem stupid. That’s just my take on it. It annoyed me mildly, but I got over it. There is also no use of quotation marks, which can be confusing and is sloppy to me.

This is just one book in what’s sure to be the next big thing in literature: the future, not focused on lasers and jet packs, but  the disintegration of our society. The Hunger Games set the ball rolling (although Suzanne Collins stole the idea for the Hunger Games from and immensely popular Japanese book entitled Battle Royale. That’s beside the point) for post-apocalyptic fiction to make a comeback. I don’t think this particular series will be the next big fad for several reasons. Firstly, it has come way too close behind Hunger Games. The second movie isn’t even out yet, so people aren’t look for the next books-turned-movies thing. Secondly, it is too similar to the Hunger Games. It is set in the future, after our society is long gone, and the people live under a dictatorship. I think that Moira Young has a more distinct narrative voice and is more skilled at writing than Collins. Mocking Jay disappointed me in a way that no book has ever done. Collins’ plotline however, is more original. Despite this, I enjoyed Blood Red Road and hope to read the books that follow. Hopefully Moira Young’s sequels will not end on such a painfully bad literary note that Suzanne Collins’ did.