Redux #11 - "Wicked" by Gregory Maguire

I had heard enough ambivalent reviews of Wicked (1995) by Gregory Maguire that I had decided not to read it. After all, there were hundreds of other books clamoring for my attention, but I never quite forgot it. The idea sounded entertaining and witty, tons of people have read it, and now there's even a Tony-winning musical (that I'm sure I'll want to see someday); I figured that it couldn't be that bad. That, and it turned out my mom had a copy of it. I ignored the fact that she got bored and stopped reading halfway through, and took the appearance of the book as a sign that I should read it. And I was pleasantly surprised. Sure, there were moments that didn't resonate with me, but Maguire created a rich and imaginative world with a real, tragic heroine, while at the same time making funny, pointed commentary on our own world.

The evil, green antagonist that we knew of only as "The Wicked Witch of the West" from The Wizard of Oz was actually born, Elphaba, the eldest daughter of a minister in Munchkinland. There is much more to this girl and woman than a cackling hag terrifying poor Dorothy in the land of Oz. Elphaba is smart and determined, and is more motivated by the pursuit of equality and justice than anything else. After a childhood traipsing after her disappointed father in the boggy marshes of Quadling Country, she finds herself in the city, attending a college for women in the city of Shiz with her new roomy, the beautiful, ignorant, pretentious, country-girl Galinda. During her studies Elphaba befriends Galinda and gets caught up in the struggles of equal rights for Animals as the country disintegrates under the despotic reign of the Wizard of Oz. Elphaba's intentions are almost always good, but her hubris could also be her complete and total devotion to the ideas and people she cares about. In the end, we all know what her fate will be, and like any tragic story, the spiral downward feels inevitable.

The most enjoyable section of this book was definitely Part II that takes place in Gillikin when Elphaba goes abroad to school. This is where we are introduced to "Galinda of the Arduennas" as Elphaba's roommate. Galinda is a spoiled, ignorant, shallow, beautiful debutante from a small town in Gillikin. Having been a big fish in a small pond, she is more than out of her element when first arriving in college, but falls back on her beauty and natural air of superiority to push through. I haven't read a character so funny and irritating in a long time. Yet, she grows and learns in a believable way with Elphaba as her roommate. Elphaba, herself, is more likable and relatable than at any other point in the novel as the strong, willful loner, intent on learning and disdainful of other's opinions.

Maguire explores a number of themes throughout this novel that added some interesting layers, making this book much more than a simple fairytale. The idea of fate and evil are probably the two major ones: Although Elpaba is incredibly stubborn and independent, she doesn't even know if her actions stem from a spell cast on her or are of her own volition. In addition, Maguire's world includes drastic discrimination against Animals (animals who can talk and have the same intelligence and emotions as people), as well as discrimination against women, Munchkinlanders, and otheres, that clearly resonate with our own history.

The most memorable theme for me, though, was what might be best described as biases, assumptions, and appearances not being everything they seem. Maguire plays with this idea from the very beginning. The readers of the book have an idea of The Wicked Witch of the West from the movie, but when you look a little deeper, Maguire shows that there is so much that we did not know or did not understand about her. And that happens a lot in real life as we throw our judgment around. It's easy to slap the label of "evil" on someone and dismiss them (think of criminal trials), but it's much harder to truly understand them or feel sorry for them. It's also easier to slap the label of "evil" or "stupid" on people who disagree with you rather than addressing their concerns. Dorothy's view of Oz, when she arrives, (and the reader's perception of Oz that stems from the film) is also very skewed. Dorothy is thrown down in the middle of something akin to a civil war, but she blithely skips along the yellow-brick road, completely unaware of the complex realities of this new world and the dire consequences of her own actions--much like United States foreign policy in many cases throughout our history (or that's what it reminded me of anyway--especially with Dorothy being a well-meaning girl from Kansas).

There were times when the book got a little slow or I couldn't quite understand the characters' motivations. There are still some scenes that are just beyond me, but I enjoyed reading this book. I was impressed by Maguire's ability to create such an interesting and complex world, and he gives you a lot to think about.

Redux #10 - "Beneath a Marble Sky" by John Shors

Beneath a Marble Sky (2004) by John Shors is a book I received from my mother. She was giving it away but said that it was worth reading, so I grabbed it. And now that I'm taking a mini break from library books and finally getting to all the books I have sitting around, I finally read it. Beneath a Marble Sky is a fictionalized story surrounding the building of the Taj Mahal. When Jahanara's mother dies in childbirth, her father, the Emperor, is buried in grief, and he decides to build a wondrous mausoleum to honor her. But the main love story in this novel is Jahanara and Isa's story; they meet during the building of the Taj Mahal and try to stay together through marriages, births, uprising, turmoil and death.

On the whole, this was an entertaining book. I liked the characters, cared about them, and wanted good things for them. The intrigue, excitement, and danger of a power struggle for the kingdom kept me turning the pages. The historical setting and details were interesting and added a lot to the story.

However, I wouldn't call this novel great. The characters were one dimensional, and I was often left wondering about their motivations. Jahanara was supposed to be extremely smart and cunning in ways of the court, but then she does some stunningly stupid things that were not explained in the book and didn't fit with her character. I had the same problems with Jahanara's evil, power hungry brother, Aurangzeb. His motivations stemmed from a lust for power, jealousy, hatred, and religious conviction, changing as the plot required, but I never had a good idea of who he was. It also made no sense to me that Aurangzeb, a man beset by paranoia with spies working for him all over the kingdom, would so cavalierly allow unknown visitors to see and talk with his father and sister in private, while they are imprisoned: not the actions of a good despot. In addition, almost all the other characters easily fit into "good" or "bad" stereotypes, being either unendingly loyal and helpful or indesribably evil.

This novel read like a romance novel set in an interesting historical period with some good details. It was entertaining and not difficult for me to finish, but the characters and plot details kept taking me out of the story and I found myself wishing I could read a non-fiction account of the Taj Mahal and the royal family.

Redux #9 - "The Hotel New Hampshire" by John Irving

I've had a copy of The Hotel New Hampshire (1981) by John Irving hanging around my place for awhile, but I always had something else to read. I've read and loved The Cider House Rules, and I've also read A Widow for One Year, although I think I was too young to really understand it. Now John Irving is quickly becoming one of my favorite writers. Between not wanting to give anything away and being somewhat exhausted, I'm afraid this is going to be a quick review.

The Hotel New Hampshire was one of the most original novels I have ever read. I spent most of the book in pure amazement at Irving's talent with words, character, and story, wondering where he could possibly go next. John Berry, the narrator, is the middle child of a unique family, growing up in small-town Dairy, New Hampshire. His older siblings, Frank and Franny, and his younger siblings, Lily and Egg, along with his parents, form the foundation of his life. Early on in the novel, the family dynamics reminded me somewhat of Little Miss Sunshine, but that resemblance faded as the novel went on.

The focus of the story is on the Berry family and their relationships, as they grow and move around throughout the book. Often hilarious, but also sometimes heartbreaking, ridiculous, and disturbing, it was always interesting. There's so much going on, this is one of those books that I would have liked to read for a class or a book club.

Redux #8 - "The Brutal Language of Love" by Alicia Erian

I discovered The Brutal Language of Love (2001) by Alicia Erian while browsing through Marra Alane's blog. I think she mentioned it as one of her favorite books, which piqued my interest. When I saw the glowing reviews on Amazon and realized that Erian also wrote Towelhead (I haven't actually read this book, but I've seen the movie), I decided to pick it up.

The Brutal Language of Love consists of nine short stories, all with female protagonists who are disturbingly flawed, vulnerable, and real. My primary experience of reading these stories was very similar to my experience of watching the movie Towelhead--they made me uncomfortable. The very first story begins with, "Beatrice told Shipley she would sleep with him, and then she passed out. When she awoke the next morning, he said he'd gone ahead without her. He got dressed and asked her to drive him to the police station so he could turn himself in for rape, but she said not to worry about it." I was still caught up in all the action of this revelatory half-paragraph: disturbed by the situation; wondering how Beatrice really felt; wanting to know what Shipley was really thinking. But Erian was already moving on to other important relationships in Beatrice's life. I often felt like I was playing catch-up, not emotionally able to digest and understand everything that was happening so fast on the page.

When Erian hit on something in her stories that I could personally relate to, it was often so blunt and honest that I had to catch my breath. However, in situations farther from my personal experience, I sometimes had problems understanding the characters' motivations. This did not lesson my interest or the impact of the story, but was probably an effect of her writing style. The world 'brutal' in the title is perfect. The stories are brutal, their effect on me was brutal, and Erian's writing is so unembellished, direct, and naked--that her writing is brutal as well. I don't think I could say that I enjoyed reading this book as it made my stomach tie up in knots more often than not, but I'm not going to forget these stories. I'm finding that the more I think about them, the more I find in them.

Now, solely for my own benefit and memory, I'm going to list them with a quick (hopefully unspoilerish) blurb, so I can revisit them again:

• "Standing Up to the Superpowers" - details Beatrice relationships with Shipley, a college Freshman and her Russian literature professor. Includes the line, "In return he offered her nothing," which I couldn't forget.

• "Alcatraz" - Roz is 13 and having a sexual relationship with Jennings while dealing with Jennings' bully friend Garrett. This is where I rediscovered that reading about 13 year olds having sex or being hit on creeps me out.

• "Bikini" - Vanessa's early relationship with her boyfriend Shawki, including his dislike of promiscuous clothes and their outing on a lake. This story had me on edge the entire second half.

• "Almonds and Cherries" - a film student with a crush on her professor and confused about her sexuality makes a movie about an incident in a fitting room. Consistently interesting, but probably the one I least understood.

• "Lass" - Shayna marries Carl, the son of a famous novelist and goes to live with his parents in Ireland. I really couldn't understand the motivations in this story, although I frustratingly felt they were right below the surface.

• "On the Occasion of my Ruination" - Very relatable story about a girl heading off to college and eager to lose her virginity while she works in the mall over the summer.

• "The Brutal Language of Love" - Another disturbing story with a character named Penny and her problematic relationships with her father, her boyfriend at the movie theater, and the man who films her for his documentary. A lot going on.

• "Still Life With Plaster" - a young girl who lives with her grandparents with her younger brother and uncle, a loving home for her that still has its lies and violence.

• "When Animals Attack" - a grown brother and sister meet a teenage runaway at a bus station because their mother had befriended him in New York and given him money to get back to him parents. Again, disturbing, and did not go where I was expecting.

Redux #7 - "Born to Run" by Christopher McDougall

I saw Christopher McDougall on The Daily Show, talking about his book Born to Run: A Hidden Tribe, Superathletes, and the Greatest Race the World Has Never Seen (2009). He brought up the rather intriguing idea (to me) that running barefoot can be fun and good for you. After reading another article about him in The New York Times, and constantly battling injuries myself, I decided I wanted to hear more about what he was saying. Now that I've finished McDougall's book, I'm annoyed that it's below freezing and the ground is covered in snow, because I would like to get out there and try some barefoot running. Although I was a little disappointed in the book as a whole, it kept my interest and reminded me why I try to run in the first place.

Part of my problems with the book stemmed (of course) from my expectations. From what he said on The Daily Show, I thought that McDougall had spent months with the Tarahumara and really became a part of their culture. And the back of the book states: "McDougall's ambitious search leads him deep inot the ragged folds of Mexico's Copper Canyon, where he somehow manages the impossible: He plumbs the mystic secrets of the fleet-footed Tarahumara Indians while never losing his deep enchantment with the majesty of their culture." I was looking for some deep insight into the Tarahumarans and their lives. But when you actually get into the book, it turns out McDougall only spent a couple days with the Tarahumara, barely even interacting with them. I did not get a good feel for their culture or how they live, and I felt that McDougall often fell back on the convenient stereotype of noble, primitive man who lives in some sort of Eden because he is far from the world's corrupting influences--but without any actual evidence.

Without having much information on the Tarahumara, the book is padded with some other interesting information about when the Tarahumara ran the Leadville 100 foot race and other famous ultra runners around the world, as well as a quick view, from an evolutionary background, of how we developed to be runners. The end culminates with a small race in Tarahumara canyon country between a couple of the best American ultra runners and some of the best Tarahumara runners.

McDougall also discusses the problems with the modern running shoe, which I thought was really interesting. This idea did not stem from the Tarahumara, but it is true that they use simple, flat sandals when they run. Many running coaches assert that it is best to land on the fleshy part of your forefoot, but the modern running shoe, with it's cushy, padded heel and modern stability, forces you to land on your heel. Studies have shown that the more cushioning you have, the harder you're going to jar the landing--so you're putting more stress on your body. Also, always having your feet controlled and supported weakens them. So, you might be better off with minimal support and cushioning, but running with better form. Although if you try to jump into running barefoot, you could also hurt yourself, because you haven't built up your foot strength yet. McDougall went from constantly nursing injuries to running more and faster than he ever had before. But McDougall also had a world-class, personal coach training him on form and running; it wasn't as easy as simply getting simpler shoes.

Having just read Krakauer's latest book, with his attention to detail and in-depth research, it was a little frustrating to read this one. I felt that McDougall often erred on the side of attention grabbing and storytelling rather than really digging deep and finding the truth. He superficially focused on the eccentricities of everyone involved but rarely gave any indication of their real lives. Superlatives were thrown liberally throughout the book without much evidence or explanation to support them. The Tarahumara were the "best" runners, and everyone was constantly "risking their lives" or "almost dying."

All of my complaining may indicate that I liked this book less than I actually did. In reality, it was a quick, informative, and enjoyable read. If I hadn't just read Krakauer, and if I hadn't been expecting something more (by the misleading advertising, which is always a pet peeve of mine), I wouldn't have been as frustrated. If you see the book as a series of light, interesting articles on why we run, ultra running, and races between Tarahumara Indians and Americans, then you will be satisfied; I'd recommend this book to anyone with an interest in running.