We Have Some Winners

Yeah, yeah, yeah, the New Orleans Saints just won the Super Bowl.

But, who won the prizes for the Japanese L:literature Challenge 3? Well, if you put your name in the post last week as having finished the challenge, and told me what prize appealed to you the most, you were entered into the drawing for each prize. The winners pulled tonight, during the game when I wasn’t watching the ads, are as follows:

For the Do Not Disturb! poster we have Claire of Paperback Reader

For the Hello, Kitty articles of whimsy and stationary we have Brittanie of A Book Lover

For Haruki Murakami’s novel South of The Border, West of the Sun we have Mel U of The Reading Life

For Good-bye Madame Butterfly we have Novel Insights

For Kuhaku we have Michelle of su(shu)

For the set of screens from the Art Institute we have Melody of Melody’s Reading Corner

and for Eat Sleep Sit we have Tamara of Thyme For Tea

Congratulations to all of you winners! Please email me your addresses so that I can send your prizes off to you. For every one else, thanks for joining in the Japanese Literature Challenge 3, and please join in again when we begin the Japanese Literature Challenge 4 on July 30, 2010.

Can You Read This?

Cna yuo raed tihs? Olny 55 plepoe out of 100 can.

Aoccdrnig to a rscheearch at Cmabrigde Uinervtisy, it dseno’t mtaetr in waht oerdr the ltteres in a wrod are, the olny iproamtnt tihng is taht the frsit and lsat ltteer be in the rghit pclae. The rset can be a taotl mses and you can sitll raed it whotuit a pboerlm.

Tihs is bcuseae the huamn mnid deos not raed ervey lteter by istlef, but the wrod as a wlohe. Azanmig huh?

Keeping The Feast

You do not have to know Italy to love this book.

You do not have to know illness or sorrow to feel the pain.

You do not have to know how to cook to appreciate the feast which is laid out before you in every word, every sentence, every description of finding solace in the country of warmth, generosity and abundant food when your life is bereft of any comfort whatsoever.

Paula Butturini was brutally beaten while covering the news in Czechsolovakia. Shortly afterward, her husband was shot while covering the news in Romania. The bullet ripped a hole through his midsection which was large, and a hole in their lives which was larger still.

As readers, we come to realize that the physical suffering is just one aspect of war; far more significant are the emotional accompaniments of depression, despair and destruction of trust. As one who personally experienced trauma beyond my control, I know that one’s life is forever changed afterward. You can never go back to the way it was Before The Incident Occurred.

One of the ways that Paula copes with this trauma is by eating, by cooking, by telling us of the abondanza which is Italy and so very nurturing to one’s soul. Her life as a cook mirrors her life as a wife; I found each aspect reflecting the change occurring in the other.

But when I say that I stopped cooking by the book, I mean it figuratively as well. Everything about our old life seemed to be in storage, somewhere far, far away. Our old life–a life of incessant work, deadlines, stories, interviews and research; a busy, fulfilling life bubbling over with the children, family friends, concerts, plays, movies, travel, reading, exploring–was suddenly on hold. John’s downward slide did not happen in a vacuum. Everything we had or knew or loved seemed bent on sliding down that dark, steep slope after him. We were here in Italy trying to stop that slide. (p. 135)

You must read this book. Don’t read it thinking you’ll escape all the childhood memories you have of what home tasted like, or what hope tastes like, or even despair. Don’t read it hungry. Don’t read it unless, like me, you have a homemade chicken broth on your stove with a handful of pastini to throw in before the pinch of fresh parsley.

Monday, January 18th: Tripping Towards Lucidity
Tuesday, January 19th: Park City Girl
Wednesday, January 20th: Baking Delights
Thursday, January 21st: Brunette on a Budget
Tuesday, January 26th: Farmgirl Fare
Wednesday, January 27th: Booklust
Tuesday, February 2nd: Peeking Between the Pages
Thursday, February 4th: Caribousmom
Tuesday, February 9th: Books, Lists, Life
Wednesday, February 10th: Book Addiction

Important update: Lisa M. of Books On The Brain, is hosting a discussion with Paula Butturini on February 22 at 5:00 PST. You may want to tune in for a chance to chat with the author or just to listen in.

Book Give-Aways (Shanghai Girls, In Particular)

How thrilled I was to discover that I had won one of the five new paperbacks of Drood from Frances at Nonsuch Book!

Now to announce the two winners for Shanghai Girls thanks to Random House:

1. Becca

2. Mark David

Please email me your addresses, you two, and I’ll make sure your copies are sent out to you straight away. Congratulations!

Tainted

Here’s a clue, dear Holly, our heroine:

If a man is exceedingly handsome, and yet he tells you nothing about his past, takes down all the photographs of your past, and latches on to your daughter as if she’s his own, run. Don’t marry him.

Yet, this is exactly what Holly Barrett does. Overcome by her loneliness, in tandem with her passion for the handsome stranger, she succumbs to all his charms. Her life is irrevocably changed ever after.

This is a novel of suspense and drama, a quick read that would make a marvelous film because of its plot.

It even reminds me of the song by Soft Cell:

Sometimes I feel I’ve got to
Run away I’ve got to
Get away
From the pain that you drive into the heart of me
The love we share
Seems to go nowhere
And I’ve lost my light
For I toss and turn I can’t sleep at night

(chorus)
Once I ran to you (I ran)
Now I’ll run from you
This tainted love you’ve given
I give you all a boy could give you
Take my tears and that’s not nearly all
Oh…tainted love
Tainted love

Now I know I’ve got to
Run away I’ve got to
Get away…

Read it, and you’ll see why.

Dōmo Arigatō

Today is my birthday. And the best thing about your birthday is you can do just about whatever you please.

It pleases me to read. It pleases me to indulge in a Cinnamon Dolce latte when normally I would choose a tall cappuccino. It pleases me to have chocolate cake with chocolate frosting for dessert, buy a new lipstick, and, like Bilbo Baggins on his birthday, give presents to others. Presents in the form of prizes.

For today is also the day that the Japanese Literature Challenge 3 comes to a close. This year has been the most successful year for the Japanese Literature Challenge yet. There have been approximately 101 participants. There have been 241 reviews. And, for me, the reading in this genre gets more exciting every year because I find out from your reviews all the books I’d like to add to my “Must Read” list.

As promised, I have prizes to give out. There is the set of Japanese screen cards, brochure and magnet from the Art Institute of Chicago:

There is the hardcover copy of Good-bye Madame Butterfly:

as well as Kuhaku, both from Chin Music Press:

There is a poster of Do Not Disturb! which looks like a watercolor:

and a set of Hello Kitty! items including pencils, notebooks, stickers and two giant Pez Dispensers (only one pictured here):

There’s a new, paperback copy of Haruki Murakami’s novel South of the Border, West of The Sun:

and finally, a hardback copy of Eat Sleep Sit, thanks to Kodansha Press:

So, how can you be entered into the drawing? First, leave a comment of your favorite read (or two, or three, or more) for the challenge. I will add these to the list of suggested titles if they’re not already there. Secondly, tell me which prize you would like to be considered for. I will announce the prizes one week from today, on February 6. I wish I could give one to everybody…however, there will be a Japanese Literature Challenge 4. The time frame for this challenge is always July 30 until January 30, so you may want to mark that in your calendar.

It has been my great joy to host this challenge. Thank you, どうもありがとう, dōmo arigatō for all you’ve given.

To The Lighthouse

Hoy High Lighthouse, Graemsay, Orkney Islands (in northern Scotland)
Photo taken by Richard Harvey

She looked up over her knitting and met the third stroke and it seemed to her like her own eyes meeting her own eyes, searching as she alone could search into her mind and her heart, purifying out of existence that lie, any lie. She praised herself in praising the light, without vanity, for she was stern, she was searching, she was beautiful like that light. It was odd, she thought, how if one was alone, one leant to inanimate things; trees, streams, flowers; felt they expressed one; felt they became one; felt they knew one, in a sense were one; felt an irrational tenderness thus (she looked at that long steady light) as for oneself. There rose, and she looked and looked with her needles suspended, there curled up off the floor of the mind, rose from the lake of one’s being, a mist, a bride to meet her lover.” (p. 63-64)

I can’t escape the idea that the lighthouse represents Mrs. Ramsay. Not literally, of course, but in terms of beauty. Purpose. Meaning for those who are searching for a guide, a beacon of light to help them through the dense fogs in life.

In the beginning of the book, James, her tender-hearted son of six, wants nothing more but to go to the lighthouse. His mother says yes, while his father is adamant that the weather will not permit it. More than what these words mean is the significance behind them: Mrs. Ramsay is soft and beautiful and loving;  Mr. Ramsay is seen as a tyrant. He slams doors, he focuses on his books, he whirls plates out of windows if he is displeased that an earwig has landed upon his meal.

Virginia paints for us a picture in words, just as scrunched-face Lily paints one with her brushes. She laments the worth of her painting; do the shadows and light balance one another? Do the images connect? and we wonder the same about the family. Each member brings his or her own personality to create the whole, and each distinct characteristic is needed. For instance, Mrs. Ramsay sees her husband’s work as a scrubbed table:

Whenever she ”thought of his work” she always saw clearly before her a large kitchen table. It was Andrew’s doing. She asked him what his father’s books were about. “Subject and object and the nature of reality,” Andrew had said. And when she said Heavens, she had no notion what that meant. “Think of a kitchen table then,” he told her, “when you’re not there.” (p. 23)

Whereas he sees woman’s minds as foolish:

There wasn’t the slightest possible chance that they could go to the Lighthouse tomorrow, Mr. Ramsay snapped out irascibly.

How did he know? she asked. The wind often changed.

The extraordinary irrationality of her remark, the folly of woman’s minds minds enraged him. He had ridden through the valley of death, been shattered and shivered; and now, she flew in the face of facts, made his children hope what was utterly out of the questions, in effect, told lies. He stamped his foot on the stone step. “Damn you,” he said, But what had she said? simply that it might be fine tomorrow. So it might.” (p. 31-32)

Despite their differences, Mr. and Mrs. Ramsay love each other. They forgive each other their faults.

Then, suddenly, Mrs. Ramsay is gone. There is no one left to bring the group together; the summer house is neglected, the books grow mushrooms and spiders, James longs for a reassuring word which he doesn’t receive from his father until the very last pages. Her absence is felt keenly, as Virginia must have felt when her own mother died.

It seems to me that Virginia Woolf is mourning the loss of her mother through the loss of Mrs. Ramsay. We know that her mother was beautiful. That she led a family of eight children just as Mrs. Ramsay does. We know that her sudden death caused Virginia to suffer tremendously, as the death of Mrs. Ramsay causes those who knew her to mourn deeply. And these are the very things that happen in To The Lighthouse.

For how could one express in words these emotions of the body? express the emptiness there? (She was looking at the drawing-room steps; they looked extraordinarily empty.) It was one’s body feeling, not one’s mind. The physical sensations that went with the bare look of the steps had become suddenly extremely unpleasant. To want and not to have, sent all up her body a hardness, a hollowness, a strain. And then to want and not to have-to want and want-how that wrung the heart , and wrung it again and again! Oh, Mrs. Ramsay! she called out silently…(p. 178)

Thank you, Emily, for leading us To The Lighthouse. I’m already looking forward to the next Woolf in Winter read, Orlando, hosted by Frances on February 12.  The last read for Woolf in Winter is The Waves, hosted by Claire, on February 26. Hope to see you there!

Sand to Stone and Back Again

My mother used to say that I am water.

I wanted to be rock, at first, because rock is so indomitable. But, she reminded me that water is harder in its own way. It is consistent, but gentle, and it will wear the rock away with its focus and flow.

Rock, or water, together they make a beautiful thing. Consider these lines:

Ages ago, I began as a tiny grain of sand

at the bottom of the sea.

Millions of other sand crystals surrounded me.

The ocean’s heavy water pressed and pressed until finally -

we cemented into stone…

Water trickles

through tiny

cracks.

Narrow streams flash through

corkscrew

corridors,

slicing out

twisty, twirly,

skinny slot

canyons.

The writing is lyrical, the photographs sensational:

and they can both be found in this beautiful book written by Nancy Bo Flood with photographs by Tony Kuyper:

Other reviews of this lovely book can be found here: SMS Book Reviews, Never Jam Today, SmallWorld Reads, Our Big Earth Media Co., Whispers of Dawn, Cafe of Dreams, The Hungry Readers, My Own Little Corner of the World, KidzBookBuzz.com

A Wrinkle In Time

When Kailana said she would host a read along for the Time Quartet, I couldn’t refuse. Never mind that I’ve read them over and over and over since 1973; every single time I read Madeleine I gain a new perspective.

I used to think that A Wrinkle in Time was “only” about love. It is a huge lesson in love. By realizing her love for her brother, Charles Wallace, Meg realizes she has something which can wrest him away from the power of IT. In fact, it is the only thing she can use that has any power. It was an important lesson for me at 11 years of age, sitting in my sixth grade English class, and one I’ve needed remediation in several times since: hate cannot win in the face of love.

But, there’s so much more. This time around I saw Madeleine was writing about more than hate; in particular, I saw her address conformity. There is a certain evil in the expectation, or even desire, that we should all be the same. When we have given up our identity, our own special uniqueness, we might as well have given up our souls.

“We hold these truths to be self-evident!” she shouted, “that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their creator with certain unalienable rights, that among these are life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.”

As she cried out the words she felt a mind moving in on her own, felt IT seizing, squeezing her brain. Then she realized that Charles Wallace was speaking, or being spoken through by IT.

“But that’s exactly what we have on Camazotz. Complete equality. Everybody exactly alike.”

For a moment her brain reeled with confusion. Then came a moment of blazing truth. “No!” she cried triumphantly. “Like and equal are not the same thing at all!”

“Good girl, Meg!” her father shouted at her.

But Charles Wallce continued as though there had been no interruption. “In Camazotz all are equal. In Camazotz everybody is the same as everybody else,” but he gave her no argument, provided no answer, and she held on to her moment of revelation.

Like and equal are two entirely different things. (p.160)

Hate and love are two entirely different things; like and equal are two entirely diffferent things; control and freedom are two entirely different things. Thank you, Madeleine, for reminding me that we are all fearfully and wonderfully made.

The Summer We Fell Apart

Title: The Summer We Fell Apart
Author: Robin Antalek
Published: January, 2010
Number of pages: 384
Reviewed for TLC Book Tours

For the first 50 pages of this book, I didn’t think I had anything in common with the characters. It reminded me of Augusten Burrough’s Running With Scissors: dysfunctional family with a capital D.

The mother is the star of horror films, the father is a philandering fool, and the four children are basically left to bring themselves up in the tilted, falling down Victorian which is their home.

But, the more I read the more I connected with the children. I mourned the loss of their parents; while alive, they could hardly be called parents in the sense that I think of parenting: nurturers, advisors, comforters, a source of stability in an unstable world. I read of the son, George, and his love affair with Sam, with a bizarre hope that they would be able to meet each other’s needs. So carefully were they drawn that I could feel their need acutely.

When I came to the part of the story told through the oldest sister, Kate, I was in complete empathy. Perhaps oldest children are able to relate to each other no matter what their gender, home town, or vocation. Certainly Kate and I have nothing in common with our careers; she was a lawyer from Washington, D.C., I’m simply a teacher of eight year olds. But, in everything else I can relate to her whole heartedly. Somehow, we both feel the need to make sure everyone’s all right, we borrow guilt if we aren’t manufacturing enough on our own, we worry and work and stress as if everything depends on us.

I wonder if the title, The Summer We Fell Apart, isn’t a misnomer. In many ways, it seems that it was the summer everything was levelled off so that a fresh beginning could occur. At least the siblings had a chance to pull together, to find the best quality each one possessed, and to make a family of their own. Afterall, it’s the sisters and brothers who are left to carry on in every family, if they’re fortunate enough to have one another.

(Find a YouTube clip on this book here.)