The Newcomers by Helen Thorpe

Ten of us met on a cold and wet Fall day to discuss the book The Newcomers: Finding Friendship, Refuge and Hope in and American Classroom. In this book, Helen Thorpe follows 22 immigrant teenagers (ages 14 - 19 years) in an ELL (English Language Learner) classroom in South High in Denver as they adjust to life in America. Remarkably, the author achieves this by attending school every day for well over a year. In doing so, she observes the students, interacts with them, interviews them (with the help of interpreters), and visits with families. She does this during the 2014-2015 school year.  With immigration becoming such a touchpoint issue, this book was especially timely.

Everyone had lots to share about their thoughts, feelings, reflections, and politics in regards to this book. There seemed to be 2 major areas of discussion:  the writing style and great appreciation for the book.

It was a unanimous sentiment that the style of writing was a thorn in everyone's side. Comments were made that is was overly simplistic, repetitive, uneven, and confusing (the inclusion of the visit to the Congo). It was pointed out that it was written in the style of a reporter: very organized, and very detailed. Libby felt it read like a L-O-N-G New Yorker article. Yet within our critique of writing style, we did recognize that Helen Thorp's writing style revealed her to be a very sensitive person, a apt listener and someone who possessed  good instincts with her interviewing process.

Aside from the writing style, there was nothing but praise for this book. Linda felt it was "an important" book and we all agreed.  By the end of the book the reader had acquired a clear understanding of all that is involved in the process of learning to live a new life in a new country. It was necessary to overcome enormous obstacles. Many of these families had come directly from refugee camps. Some had lost family members. These were children and adults who were dealing with extremely catastrophic and traumatic events in their lives prior to coming to the US. It was also necessary to access an enormous amount of resources to successfully transition to a life in the USA.  A query was made about how sustainable that is for a country and there was some conversation about the amount of  resources devoted to an underprivileged demographic vs the amount devoted to a mainstream demographic. And at the same time there was acknowledgement of gratitude that there was so much faith-based involvement to provide the necessary resources.

There was surprise and appreciation to know that a school such as South High existed. We marveled at how successful this school was and how it has changed over time. Libby recounted that Mike had student taught there when students were being bussed in and she remarked that it was very tense time. Now it is a sought after school of choice for non-immigrant families! We admired and applauded the talents and skills of the teachers in South High.

This was a book that provided an opportunity for learning about so many topics: acquisition of a second language; the process of acquiring refugee status; how different languages are connected to each other; the impact of  politics on individual lives; the struggles and incredible accomplishments that are possible; the impact of quality education; and the importance of belonging. Additionally, this proved to be and inspiring book that did provide hope.

Interestingly, Libby learned of a clothing drive to acquire winter clothing for CO refugees. Consequently she coordinated a very successful mini clothing drive with our group. Look at the results:

Less by Andrew Sean Greer

Less is a book about being human told from the story of a gay man. Arthur Less is about to turn 50 years old when the book opens. Less is a good writer but not a famous writer. He has deeply loved two men and the latest of those loves (Freddy) has decided to marry another. To escape the pain of this wedding Less decides to orchestrate a round the world adventure attending various invited, but lesser, professional events. During the course of these adventures the reader learns bit by bit the story of Less’s life and at the same time is entertained by Less’s traveling foibles.

Arthur Less is a self-deprecating man. He has never thought he had much talent as a writer and always compares himself to others, especially to his former lover Robert Brownburn who was a genius poet.  Unless he is a genius Less feels worthless. He says, “going on in mediocrity is the worst kind of hell” and “what will the work do if you are not a genius?” He thinks of himself “ as superfluous as the extra “a” in quaalude". Even when Less wins an award in Turin he cannot feel good about it. Arthur thinks “less” of himself…hence the title of the book.

Another theme of the book is Less’s search for happiness. He is a lonely man and is looking for love. Not only looking for love in terms of finding the right “person” but looking for what love really is.  He says, “ be mysterious, be in love you will be happy” and “ twenty years of joy and support and friendship that is success”. Ironically, his relationship with his first love, Robert, ends because Robert discovers Less is cheating on him. Less seems to fall in love or fall into “lust” over and over. It seems easy for him to find an attractive man, kiss him passionately and spend the weekend in bed with him. This desire for commitment but lack of restraint is a point of tension in the book. Less seems overwhelmed by the beauty of the human body and the pleasures of sex and unable to stay loyal to his partners. But now it seems Less has found true love with Freddy and wishes with all his heart that Freddy had married him.

Less’s adventures around the world were woven with humor and evocative descriptions of places and events. The energy of Berlin at night was succinctly, but richly described as if the reader had jumped into the vibrant streets from the dark sky above. Greer captured Less’s time in India with a concentrated essence of India's culture: its color, chaos, aroma and spiritual flavor. The stark dessert of Morocco and surprise of an alpine mountain created an exotic scene that drew the reader in and summoned for more. Less’s mishaps along the way added to the pleasure of the read…his swirling doubts as to whether or not he got into the right cab (his name was misspelled on the placard) on his way to the Italian alps was quite plausible and funny. Less’s misplaced confidence in speaking German while in Berlin was written with clever humor. Less spends his 50^th birthday in Morocco on a group trip and one by one his fellow travelers fall sick. Less remarks, “this isn’t like a birthday it’s like an Agatha Christie novel.”

At book club we discussed the merits of this book relative to it receiving the Pulitzer Prize. None of us related to the character Less; he didn’t evoke sympathy. In addition, the relationships in the book were not well developed and seemed flat. Themes of love, aging, and identity were there but not explored in any depth. On the final leg of his adventure Less visits Japan to write an article about food…he eats the same dishes prepared at seven different restaurants.  At the final restaurant he has to break through an ancient Japanese screen in order to get out of the room he was in…the act causes him great angst. This is clearly a metaphor, but for what? Giving up on love? Deciding to be happy without love? The metaphor was strong and beautiful but unfinished. The author does give us a glimpse into the gay community …promiscuity, age discrepant relationships and lust and the book was cleverly written with unique and fascinating imagery...” the suit purrs as it sits”, the man’s head “bald as a malted milk ball”, Less “once pink and gold with youth now faded like the sofa he sits on”. Moreover, the twist at the end of the book, when it becomes clear that Freddy is the narrator, creates a fresh look at all that had come before. Our conclusion was that the book received the Pulitzer because of its objective “craft” not because of its profound message.

House of Names by Colm Toibin

     We had quite a rich discussion about House of Names at book group this month.  Some disliked the book (unfortunately not present) while others liked and were stimulated by it.  There was appreciation of Toibin's spare writing, although the tale was dense and packed with storytelling.  Toibin expressed the Greek myth from a woman's perspective, having Clytemnestra and Electra speak in the first person while Orestes' tale was told in the third person.  The book is based on the Greek myth originally of 750 BC, but Toibin does make his characters seem human and have human feelings.  Clytemnestra behaved in vicious, unfeeling ways, but one could feel compassion for her character and understand her behavior to some extent.  After all, her daughter was murdered by Agamemnon after he tricked Clytemnestra to bring her to him to be married and then trapped Clytemnestra in a hole in the ground for several days!

     Some commented that the gruesome details of all the killings were worthwhile for keeping the reader aware of the suffering people endure around the world today.  The Greeks, from Homer on, were warning mankind that violence begets more violence and revenge leads to more revenge.  In the end, nobody wins through violent acts.  Too bad humankind has not yet learned that lesson after nearly 3000 years.  Toibin was particularly aware of this having lived through the troubles in Northern Ireland when sectarian violence kept feeding on itself.

     In Toibin's rendition of the myth, Clytemnestra felt that the power of the gods was waning and that they were no longer relevant.  The consequence is that humans have the responsibility to affect their own destinies, for the good or not so good.  Responding to violence with more violence was not so successful for her or her family.

     Some in the group felt that Orestes was the one member of the family who was not caught in the cycle of vengeance and thus was the most appealing character.  Others felt the contrary because throughout the tale he didn't express much emotion over all the murders, and then he murdered his own mother in a gruesome way.  Others felt that Leander, who was Toibin's addition to the ancient myth, was the most appealing.  He sobbed over the deaths of his family members and expressed the need for no more killings, including Aegisthus.  He seemed to be the only character with true feelings.  Some in the group felt that Orestes' character matured through the tale, though others disagreed.  At the end, he still yearned to be a boy and engage in mock sword fights with the soldiers.

     There was agreement that the ending was rather abrupt and didn't fit the character of the tale very well.  It seemed to make light of the recent events, expressing that in time all would be forgotten.  Once the current players in the tale were gone, "what had happened would haunt no one", suggesting that all would be well in the end.  Alternatively, perhaps Toibin was expressing the reality that humankind has not and would not learn the lesson of the myth.

WHAT A FISH KNOWS     by: Jonathan Balcombe

On this hot, summer day, we went under the sea to explore and understand the complex lives of the over 30,000 species of fish. Or, fishes.  Mary chose this book, which she discovered at the Red Feather public library.  She found the book to be a readable mix of anecdote and science, and a way to help us be open to life on our planet. This book was intended for a broad audience.
Maddy liked the book, but thought it to be rather dense, and opted to illustrate some of the information after reading about 60% of the book. Wish I could download a photo of that, but alas, a fish probably has better technology savvy than I do. (A fish swam by and left the drawings below.)
There was much discussion about the "science" of the book; Libby found some of it to be hokey. She thought it had a whimsical, children's book feel about it. But she also appreciated the breathtaking diversity of these creatures, so well documented in the book.
Many of us were turned off by some of the cruelty of the scientific experiments, as well as  some of the premises for conducting the experiments. Caged primates compared to schools of fish?? Paige found the author to be biased, as everything was explained through the eyes of a human.
But, the book did prompt discussion about intelligence vs. evolution, instinct vs. memory, and nature vs. nurture. Are fish really sentient creatures?
Hopefully, this book will give the reader a more enlightened appreciation of these marine animals, and therefore greater respect for the important role they play on our planet.
Annie

“Little Fires Everywhere” by Celeste Ng

     Maddy welcomed an almost unprecedented ten of us on Tuesday in her lovely sunroom: Annie, Linda, Sheri, Paige, Joan, Margie, Saran, Libby, and Mary. Except for a couple of mild detractors, everyone thoroughly enjoyed the fun, engaging book for many different reasons.  “Little Fires Everywhere” took place in well off surburbia of the 1990’s, complete with the seemingly perfect family and their dream house.  But all was not right underneath the facade, there were embers smoldering beyond what the eye could see on the surface.
     Maddy said she chose this book because it was to her the best book she has read with an artist as a main character.  Mia, the artist, seemed to touch and affect everyone in the story in sometimes unpredictable ways.  The descriptions of Mia doing her art were fascinating and spot on.
    There really was a huge amount of material to be covered in the story, the teens, the left baby, the past, the whys and wherefores, and Celeste Ng, the author, deftly introduces every situation and carries each plot line to interesting outcomes, keeping the reader engaged and entertained.  The author accomplished interwoven side plots that made sense and tied the book together.  There were in fact, many references literal and figurative to fire: sparks, embers, lighting a fire, etc that the reader began to realize that almost every character had a burning inner life.
     The characters were well crafted and believable and varied, so that we could feel for the ones who were sensitive, dismiss others who seemed shallow, and love the conflicted, seeing in a character parts of ourselves as Elena began to see herself in her youngest daughter, Izzy.
     This could be a book about how art crosses into life, for it does. At the end, Mia left her portraits of the other characters behind. Perhaps it was her way as an observant artist, to tell them to look at their true selves, look at how others, like Mia, can see them as they really are. Mia laid bare the many ways of being in the world and the bravery it takes to follow your own heart.

The Underground Railroad, Colson Whitehead

Our April meeting was held at Saran’s house, with Joan, Linda, Mary, Paige, Margie, Libby, and Sheri joining the discussion.

This is a book rich with intertwined stories – a story about cruelty and greed, a story about betrayal, a story of animosity born of trauma and fear, a story of fact mixed with fiction, a story of courage, a stark critique on white supremacy, an ode to freedom, ultimately the story of our history.

Each of us gravitated to one of these stories, or maybe to a few, but struggled to put them all together to accompany Cora on her jagged road to …well…freedom, one hopes. A few got stuck with the brutality, which was so real and relentless that they could not finish the book. Linda repeatedly turned to the horrors of white supremacy, and her shame. Libby and I were compelled by Cora’s ever-evolving sense of freedom and of her self. We were all fascinated by Cora. Already at 15 years old, she was an outcast among slaves, abandoned by her mother, ‘seasoned’ by other slaves, beaten repeatedly, but had a spark that allows her to take the first step toward freedom and the courage or stubbornness to keep going in the face of shifting odds. Cora keeps getting up and traveling on even though she never knows what new atrocities or fears await her.

The story is a journey, both real and emotional. Cora travels from one state to the next, encountering new variations on white domination and privilege. It was hard for us to appreciate the story as a continuum because we were so flabbergasted by each of these variations. Syphilis experiments and forced sterilizations in the mid 1860s? That was Annie’s stopping point. Weekly public celebrations of lynchings? I found Cora to be a new person at each stop, and these discoveries propelled me through the book. Whitehead allows Cora to gain ‘agency’ with each step. She grows in confidence – in South Carolina, becoming comfortable with white authority and challenging it; it North Carolina, realizing she is less fearful and therefore more free than the town’s citizens; and in Tennessee, where Cora first realizes the indifference of fate and is also able to challenge Ridgeway. She blossomed in the freedom of the Valentine farm, but that too was betrayed. By that time I was confident that she would survive. Perhaps this was the fictitious part though, and I was more deluded than others in our group.

Fear pervades the book. Slaves fear punishment and death; their masters fear reprisal from a burgeoning slave population. Fear festers among whites, among blacks, among whites of blacks, and among blacks of whites. Against this backdrop of fear, what is freedom? Cora asks this question when sequestered in Martin and Ethel’s attic, where she is ‘free’ but in a living prison. Had she escaped bondage in that attic or become more entwined by it? I found this another profound change in Cora – her realization that being free had nothing to do with chains or space; it shifted as she examined and experienced it. It was the townspeople who were prisoners, perhaps more than she was. She could see them as shackled to fear, terrified of watchful eyes, huddled together to ward off diffuse dangers, hoping that numbers would forestall demons. Better to hide in attics than to confront what lurks behind the faces of neighbors, ‘friends,’ family. We didn’t spent much time talking about these questions although they remain pertinent today.

How much of Whitehead’s book is fact, and how much fiction? We discussed this quite a bit. Whitehead said, in an interview, that he stuck to the truth if not the facts. He obtained important facts – on plantation culture, daily life, relationships among slaves and between slaves and their owners - from reading extensive interviews of former slaves that were written in the 1930s. He used actual run-away slave notices because he could not compete with the language in those notices. So there is a lot of fact mixed in with his fiction.

Could specific acts of brutality really have occurred? Were the Randalls caricatures of brutal plantation owners? We found it easier to consider these as fiction. Was the Freedom Trail fiction? We wanted, collectively, to think so because the vision is so awful. Bryan Stevenson, the force behind the National Memorial for Peace and Justice, reminds us that the people who carried out this violence – the night riders, slave catchers, plantation owners – wanted to advertise their brutality. “They actually lifted up the bodies because they wanted to terrorize. They wanted the entire community to see it.” They displayed the lynchings and distributed flesh torn from the body as souvenirs. This is unbearably gruesome, but it is real.  We clung, in our discussion, to fiction in order to face the horrors. But we know that what really happened was much worse than what Whitehead wrote.

The book received lots of attention for Whitehead’s reliance of a real railroad, with stations and station masters and schedules. This underground railroad is presented as an allegory, but the actual ‘railroad’ was very similar. It was constructed with untold hours of work by untold number of individuals, maintained at tremendous risk, ‘stations’ were closed down, routes were altered, passengers hid away, and they emerged to unknown places for unknown periods of time. A very powerful section at the end of the book describes Cora escaping from Ridgeway for the last time, we hope, and using a handcar to propel herself mile after dark mile, putting the past behind her and emerging who knows where? Three wagons appear. The two driven by whites pass her by. The last, driven by a black man, stops, provides food, and takes her on to the next stop. Another kindness, another gain, another segment in a long journey.

Whitehead chose a female protagonist, and among our group, Cora engendered such sympathy that some of us couldn’t read about her while others of us couldn’t stop. He wanted to explore how an individual who knows only tragedy of the plantation finds it in herself to take the first step and – once taken –to keep moving forward on a trip that might take years. The threat of being caught does not diminish, and neither does the need to rely on strangers. What sustains her? We didn’t talk much about this although it was, for me, the main story. Would this book have been different, and easier to read, had the protagonist been male? Would it have been as effective? Perhaps it doesn’t matter. By the time she reached Tennessee, Cora had changed remarkably.  Chains no longer fastened her character or action; her skin was black and she was treated as the world treated blacks. No more, no less. And she could look Ridgeway right in the eye and question him.

Many relate this book to the recent recurrence of racial strife in the US. It is hard not to recognize fear in police shootings of unarmed black men and, in turn, fear and hatred in the responses from the African American community. When asked about these relationships Whitehead notes that we make very slow progress as individuals and communities on issues as difficult as these. Short periods of dissent and discussion are followed by long periods of silence and inaction. We talked about slavery and domination as pervasive throughout human history. Whether fact or fiction, Whitehead’s book reminds us of the price that silence pays.

Catfish and Mandala, a Two-Wheeled Voyage Through the Landscape and Memory of Vietnam

     March book group met at Libby's house with 7 of us present and Paige writing in a short email.  The discussion was lively because no one had a neutral opinion and there were feelings about the book that ran the spectrum of 'what a tale', an enjoyable book, amazingly intense, visceral, fascinating cultural subtleties, sometimes dreamlike, history vs present, depressing, and all of it transporting us to another culture both in the Vietnamese US and in Vietnam itself.  This is what I love about this group, we are so good at discussing a slightly controversial book in an intelligent way.  There were many thoughts on the story, and I was hard pressed to note down what everyone said when.
     I chose the book because it was a portrait of one person affected by an important part of our 20th century history.  It was an immigrant story, a young Vietnamese forced to settle in the US at an early age, and the story of how well or not well they/he survived.  Then twenty years later, whatever the author had become through both his family's influences and those of America, and him not really knowing what he was, he travels back to Vietnam to search for his identity and find his memories, perhaps one of those lost souls that people in Vietnam referred to.  All in the group found it a heartrending and conflicting journey.
     I think that all the conflicts that Andrew wrote about made many of us in the group confused about his journey, but then we felt that maybe we were traveling his inner and outer journey with him at the same time he was writing this book, which can be confusing for anyone as they embark on a journey of self discovery.  Often travel brings a sensation that is at once exhilarating and somewhat terrifying, and I have felt those feelings myself. Andrew felt this exhilaration as he begins his cycle trek from San Francisco, "a liberating bliss".  But after many miles and finally entering Vietnam, it does become a terrifying journey emotionally affecting his whole core. 
     We all thought there were passages of remarkable beauty and expression in the book.  Joan pointed out a passage near the end of the book where the author meets in pure joy "a portly grandmother" laughing and playing in the water....so much of his journey is about history of the country and his family, and he says "for our truths change with time.  There is nothing else.  no mitigating circumstances and no power to undo the sins.  No was.  Only is.  Between us there is but a thin line of intention."  Andrew's tortured journey is almost over.  And as he is asked what he plans to do, he replies, "be a better American".  (Interesting that he now lives in Vietnam.)
     Sheri said that she understood the Catfish part of the title because if the meal of clay pot catfish at crucial parts of the book in Vietnam, but was wondering what Mandala could mean as it is a Tibetan symbol.  Libby thought that perhaps the bicycle wheel was the Mandala part, symbolizing the universe of continuous time, and his journey into the past, present and maybe the future.  Margie wondered about the short italicized chapters called "Fallen Leaves" and a few of us said that they seemed to be short histories from another point of view, an effective way to get into a scene as an observer.  Sheri liked the parts of the book going back and forth in time and felt it was informative and effective.  Saran felt the journey and the book was like a purging of himself.  She pointed out a lovely rendition of his father near the end of the book that we didn't see when An was growing up as his father struggles with anger and frustration.  Annie said she had mixed feelings about the book as we all did, passages that were so beautiful and others that were so intense and hard to read.  Paige wrote to say she enjoyed the book but felt it could have been three books at least, that were too many topics, issues, brought up.
     All in all a provocative read!  And it led Libby to make a lovely Vietnamese dessert called Banh Chuoi Nuong, baked banana cake, one of the very few Vietnamese desserts.  It was made with coconut milk, butter, sweetened condensed milk, and bananas, a fine end to a great group.

A Gentleman in Moscow by Amor Towles

Maddy, Margie, Libby, Paige, and Annie met at Mary Lib’s house on March 6, 2018 to discuss The Gentleman in Moscow by Amor Towles. Linda sent some written comments. Sheri shared comments on the phone afterwards. 

 “How did you feel about the Count?” is the question that opened our discussion. Maddy: “I wanted him to be my Dad.” Sheri spoke about the impact of the Count’s aristocratic bearing and how he (and it) affected others. His properness, poise, and affability set a tone for his acquaintances, and Sheri observed that these traits elevated those around him. Libby commented that he was able to remain a practicing gentleman in his role as a waiter.

Linda: “I enjoyed Count Rostov. Actually, pretty much all of the characters...because of how well they were described.” Libby reminded us he was a man of purpose. Nina and Sophia gave him a reason to live well and keep and pass along his old customs. She pointed out that in spite of his house arrest, the Count considered himself a lucky man because he wasn’t shot, because Mishka signed the Count’s name to his poem, and because his role as Sophia’s father brought such joy to his world.

What Sheri loved about the book was the constant suspense. And Annie spoke several times about Towles’ ability to weave threads of themes, of clues, of connections throughout the book. Those threads would tie events or characters from early in the book to events that occurred much later, adding to the genuine fun of reading the book.

The concept of destruction during the Bolshevik era came up: Destruction of lives, of individuality, of societal norms. While the book wove the politics of the era throughout, they were overshadowed (overpowered?) by the importance of the individuals and their relationships. Or as Linda wrote, “The Russian history was almost backdrop information for all that took place in the Metropol Hotel.” (So there, Bolsheviks!)

Sheri commented on the Count’s ability to speak clever tongue-in-cheek criticisms of the Bolsheviks. 

And having children (Nina and Sophia) as the Count’s main companions provided an avenue for steering conversations away from the Bolshevik mayhem and towards both playful and philosophical conversations that gave readers fascinating insights into the characters.

Playfulness was a constant theme. Nina’s and Sophia’s cleverness, curiosity, and playfulness elicited those same traits in the Count. Towles’ writing itself was playful. His repetitive use of adjectives provided the key clue in identifying the “willowy” woman at the table at the end of the book. In discussions with Towles found online, he said didn’t have a specific reason for starting every chapter (and there were a lot of them) with the letter A, but we speculated anyway. Was it because “A” signifies new beginnings? Or something else?

We played a short round of Zut, the game the Count & Sophia played at dinner to pass time between courses. This gave us an appreciation for the need for a ready command of many topics in order to be able to play the game. Those girls were so bright!

Prompted by the references to Casablanca, and in particular the scene near the end of the book where the Count sets a cocktail glass upright, Sheri commented on the line in the book that read, “… by the smallest of actions, one can restore a sense of order to the world.” In some ways, that’s what the whole book was about. Although the Count’s world was confined to the hotel, he made it rich through his actions and through the relationships he formed and nurtured while there. Sheri said it made her think about what small actions do we all take that help someone else. This would have been a stimulating discussion to have included in our day.

Paige observed that his relationship with Anna felt shallow, at least based on what we knew about it.  Mary Lib wished for more emotional background on the Count’s life. But this book wasn’t about the Count’s entire life; it was only about his life in the Metropol, the reality he constructed there, the friendships he formed, his desire to be the master of his own fate, and the grateful man he became as a result of those experiences.

Margie best summed up our overall delight with the book when she described a repeated experience while listening to the book in the car with Jim. As they were driving along and listening, one of them would hit the Pause button and say, “Wasn’t that beautiful?!?”

Yes, it was. All of it.

Mary Lib