Currently Reading

Happy New Year!

As we greet a new year, I look at a book that reflects on the past.

This book is Between Shades of Gray by Ruta Sepetys. It should not be confused with Fifty Shades of Grey by E.L. James.

Sepetys’ beautiful novel features Lina Vilkas, a fifteen year girl from Lithuania who is deported with her mother and younger brother to Siberia under Stalin’s regime. Lina is an artist and secretly draws portraits of everyone around her and writes descriptions of everything that happens. She hopes that these pictures will somehow reach her father who was separated from his family.

On the back of my copy of the book is a review by Susan Campbell Bartoletti, the Newberry Honor-winning author of Hitler Youth. She writes that she feels grateful “for a writer… who bravely tells the hard story of what happens to the innocent when world leaders and their minions choose hate and oppression.”

Bartoletti’s review is incredibly apt as when the year “1941” is spoken or read, people think of the Holocaust and Hitler. Typically, they do not think of Stalin. And if they do think of him, he is somehow separated from Hitler in their minds. I get this because I do it too. And there aren’t many, if any, survival stories. Unlike the Holocaust. It is quite clear in the book, however, that these two events are happening at the same time because every once in a while, someone will mention news about the ghettos, the concentration camps, or the progress of the war.

Even though this book is a work of fiction, I believe that it is quite good at capturing the despair, the chaos, and the dehumanizing nature of the situation. This is possible because fiction, I believe, always holds a glimmer, or perhaps a whole sun, of truth. It also captures the random and uplifting moments of humor and joy that always seem to pervade throughout dark times.

The style of Septys’ writing is simple and clear. It does not make the horrific events, like shooting a young mother because she was grieving over her dead newborn, more or less dramatic. They just simply happen. Like most novels, it has chapters. They are shorter than your average chapters and sometimes break up the narrative. This clearly has not disrupted me because I have had a hard time putting it down, even when it is midnight and I know I have work in just a few hours.

While reading it, a quote from another book, The Book Thief by Markus Zusak, popped into my head: “I am haunted by humans.”  I, a human, find myself thinking I am haunted by humans because of the events portrayed in  Between Fifty Shades of Gray. I am haunted by their ability to do evil. I am haunted by their ability to be good and kind amongst all odds like Lina’s mother is. But mostly I am haunted by their ability to love and survive when hopelessness abounds.

The Taste of Reading

Sorry for the delay in posting. The last two weeks have been more than hectic with the end of the semester. My last thing isn’t due until tomorrow, but I saw a news report about the Taliban attack on a school and I decided publish something more uplifting. Something that is proof that the world is not just full of darkness.


My sister and I walk to the library. It is a nice day with a blue sky and sunshine.
At one point, we cross a driveway. We think the car is going to stop for us, but it jerks forward at the same time that we start walking. “Always try to make eye contact,” my sister tells me as she grabs my arm.
She heads right for the reserved shelf. I want to peruse the young adults section, but I already have a few books from the last time we were here in my room. She finds the bright green paper that proclaims our last name in black permanent marker and pulls the book that we had chosen together off the shelf. It’s Pride and Prejudice.
It starts to rain while we are checking out using the new “do it yourself” system. We walk quickly out of the library and down the hill. My sister tucks the book under her coat to keep it safe. No cars bother us.
We are both cold and fairly wet when we duck into a restaurant. We are eating later, so we just order two hot chocolates and sit in the slightly comfortable chairs in the corner next to the fireplace, which is thankfully turned on.
My sister suggests starting the book and I lean over as she reads the famous first sentence: “It is a truth universally acknowledged that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife.”
Always mindful of the time, I allow her to finish the first two chapters before I say that we should be going; we have a movie to catch.
It is yet again sunny and bright outside as we walk over the highway to the dine-in movie theater that is a few blocks away from my house.
One half of the theater is dimmed and the other still has its lights on full power. My sister and I sit in the lighted side and order one Mushroom and Swiss Burger each. While we wait for the food to come and the movie to start, she pulls out Jane’s Austen’s work. She gets through half a chapter before the lights start to dim.
“I guess they don’t want me reading out loud,” she says as she closes the book

Pride and Prejudice wasn’t the first or the last book we read together. First, we read The Hobbit. Some of the reading took place on the hammock in our backyard. One chapter was read in the dark with a flashlight. And in middle school, she would pick me up after school and we would walk home where sardines and crackers would wait with our latest book. We read A Great and Terrible Beauty and Timothy Zahn’s Dragonback series.

While my sister was reading, I would sink into her voice and all thought would be suspended temporarily as I crawled into the minds of the characters. And throughout all these experiences, I would be happy. Because you see, books are love.

25 Reasons to Love Life

This entry is  based on Kim Dana Kupperman’s “71 Fragments for a Chronology of Possibility” and her writing exercise in Blurring Boundaries: Explorations to the Fringes of Nonfiction (edited by B.J. Hollars).


25 Reasons to Love Life
“Wherever she was, she was at the center of the world. That one lives at the center of the world is the world’s profoundest thought.” Wendell Berry, Whitefoot


1. At the center of my world is purple. Purple for passion, passion for survival.


2. At the center of my world is my heart, its beats going unnoticed most of the time. It pumps, provides, pushes blood through me and guides my every step.


3. At the center of my world are the dreams I dream about the future someone who will be my other purple.


4. At the center of my world, a mountain stands.


5. As I write this, I understand the center of my world.


6. As I write this, I know that the center of my world is solitary, but not alone.


7. As I write this, I realize that the center of my world is circling and always, always, always changing.


8. As I write this, I am certain that I center my world on writing.


9. I need to be strong for the center of my world.


10. The center of my world is silence and taking time off for myself.


11. The center of my world is love and loving myself.


12. The center of my world is chaotic.


13. The center of my world is difficult and arduous, like rapids in a swollen river.


14. The trees in the center:
a. Aspen
b. Blue Spruce
c. Oak


15. The colors:
a. Mauve
b. Forest Green
c. Royal Blue
d. Rose Pink
e. Gold


16. The couch on which I sit now in my apartment is not the center of my world.


17. The pillows with prints, although they are nice to rest on, are not the center of my world.


18. The politics of my work, school, and nation do not belong in the center of any world.


19. What is the center:
a. Music
b. Breathing
c. Warmth of a friend


20. I hope that the center of my world will be like an oval. Or a labyrinth with a clear beginning, middle, and end.


21. I hope for hands to hold mine.


22. I wish for magic.


23. The center of my world is why I should love myself.

Why?


24. A reason: Hope.


25. Another: Life and the beautiful mess that it is.