Reading this novel was something like walking into a bank of fictional fog so thick that all I could see of the protagonist was an occasional shoulderReading this novel was something like walking into a bank of fictional fog so thick that all I could see of the protagonist was an occasional shoulder....more
This is the story of how a fuzzy psychiatric diagnosis was given to unfortunate children by doctors who knew they were condemning these children to hoThis is the story of how a fuzzy psychiatric diagnosis was given to unfortunate children by doctors who knew they were condemning these children to horrible deaths.
It's the story of how these children's honest, heartbreaking, willingly given, naive answers to questions posed by their doctors could mean the difference between being allowed to live or condemned to die.
It's a story about how killing a child became a completely reasonable way to treat a diagnosis of asocial behavior.
Sheffer lays out a meticulously-argued and well-documented case that the work of Hans Asperger was grounded in the racial-purity ideologies of National Socialism.
It's a chilling book not only for the documentation of atrocity, but also for the way Sheffer draws correlations to the present--how these same prejudices against children who are different continue to affect child psychiatry today, where unusual behavior is still pathologized. 'Social skills' have continued to be an unqualified good in the psychiatric treatment of children, and it was in Nazi Germany and Austria that asociability first became a pathology in need of a cure. Sheffer spends a long time pulling together the way an autistic-spectrum personality was id'd as deviant in large part because these children weren't attracted to group activities like the Hitler Youth--a deviation from the norm that could not be tolerated. It feels that these threads of dominant-culture prejudice still exist today, where practitioners assume a priori that it is better for a child to be part of a group, and to behave like the group behaves, no matter how uncomfortable the group makes the child feel.
Sometimes a small lens allows the greater horror to be seen and understood, if only fleetingly. Asperger's diagnostic program sent at most 10,000 children to their death, and what is that when compared with 6 million? But Sheffer makes an important connection between this relatively small tragedy of autistic children and the fate of six million Jews. She reminds us that the same notion of eugenic purity drove all of these horrific decisions: the National Socialist murder of Jews, homosexuals, mentally ill, and asocial deviants all stemmed from a pseudo-scientific thesis about eugenics and social improvement, a thesis that allowed people who committed atrocious acts to claim their actions were scientific and rational and therefore justifiable....more
Using traditional fairy tale elements, Hunt tells a story that starts with fairy-tale calm and rapidly descends into madness and horror.
The novel strUsing traditional fairy tale elements, Hunt tells a story that starts with fairy-tale calm and rapidly descends into madness and horror.
The novel strongly recalls the work of the great German Romantics, in a way I never would have guessed a modern author could evoke. One of my favorite reads of all time is Der blonde Eckbert by German Romantic author Ludwig Tieck. Hunt's short novel exploits channels of feeling that are probably instinctive in us humans, such a fear dark places and of unknown enemies--feelings that are plumbed in fairy tales all over the world. But in this novel there is no happy ending. The irrational wins. What we think of as reality is revealed to be an illusion, and what is really-real is a world filled with irrational rules, rules that have nothing to do with human morals or human sympathy, and where terror is lurking just beneath the veil of calm that we fool ourselves into believing, just so we can continue living.
The flat calm tone of the narrator makes the outcome all the more terrifying. She continues to believe in the goodwill of all those she meets, and to believe in her own innocence. in the end she is implicated deeply in her own fate, in a way that again evokes the great German Romantics, who also wrote stories in which everyone gets what is coming to them.
There is so much going on here. Let the story lead you. It's an eerie and unexpected journey all the way....more
This YA novel was a unique mix of 1) a realistic story of the despair and horror of plantation slavery, & 2) a fantasy about a benevolent alien who coThis YA novel was a unique mix of 1) a realistic story of the despair and horror of plantation slavery, & 2) a fantasy about a benevolent alien who comes to Earth to empower a slave boy with supernatural longevity and wisdom, so that he can save the world. It's kind of like combining 12 Years A Slave with Mary Poppins. And I'm coming to understand that Walter Mosley can write anything at all and I'll love it. ...more
I loved this little book. In parts it feels so simple, a list of daily activities of a real-life artist sculptor living in the Belle Epoque era as theI loved this little book. In parts it feels so simple, a list of daily activities of a real-life artist sculptor living in the Belle Epoque era as the Great War looms. In other places it becomes a deeply affecting paean to animal life in captivity, through one man's eyes. The book is illustrated by Rembrandt Bugatti's extraordinary sculptures of the animals he observed; the pathos captured in these sculptures was for me a deep part of the experience of reading this novel.
Author Franzosini manages to persuade me that as I read I'm feeling what Bugatti felt, even though Bugatti was a remarkable thinker and unique creator.
A lovely meditation on art and on human relationships with the natural world, one that will stay with me a long time....more
Oh, my goodness. I'm so glad I returned to this novel for a second read. I just have to throw up my hands here, and admit that everything changed in mOh, my goodness. I'm so glad I returned to this novel for a second read. I just have to throw up my hands here, and admit that everything changed in me, about halfway through my second read, where I, hmm, I suppose what I did was yield to this narrator--yield to her voice, and yield to her grief.
The first time through I listened to the audiobook and the story wasn't helped by the performer's even tone, which I heard as cynical and superior. The words on the page are deep and full. They reflect a friendship of a very particular sort, between a man and a woman who aren't in love, but who love one another. I can't remember ever reading a novel that captures so absolutely this kind of relationship, a very intellectual one but for all that a very intimate one; a relationship where the woman in the friendship knows that, to remain an intellectual equal in the eyes of this man, she needs to become a sort of stand-in man herself, de-sexed and undesired. Is there any smart woman in the world who doesn't understand this man, who hasn't experienced a kind of bifurcated friendship where intimacy of intellect comes at the cost of any other kind of intimacy? It seems to be a side effect of patriarchy, to me, anyway. The first read-through I had a bit of trouble with the way the narrator reflects on the flaws of her friend's wives, but now I understand it in this context, that the narrator is just reflecting a reality where her closeness was perhaps more genuine than what her friend had with his wives.
I don't know if anyone else read this novel in this way, or would describe the core relationship the book describes in this way. It seems like a common kind of relationship in our world but it's also the kind of relationship where both the intimacy and the grief this woman feels wouldn't have a socially acceptable place to be expressed. The way Nunez finds a way to tell the story of this love in this small story about a woman adopting her dead friend's dog is perfect.
Perfect. I take it all back. This is an extraordinary novel.
I would have loved listening to this as an audiobook on an airplane as it gave me very vivid scenic impressions that would have lifted me right out ofI would have loved listening to this as an audiobook on an airplane as it gave me very vivid scenic impressions that would have lifted me right out of my economy seat and transported me to a better place. But as it is I am in a very good place already, so the book bored me a little....more
This is a perfectly executed book of a kind that I don't find enjoyable to read: a detailed period piece where everything about the place and time is This is a perfectly executed book of a kind that I don't find enjoyable to read: a detailed period piece where everything about the place and time is lavishly and meticulously brought to life on the page. I would have liked the novel better if the people weren't so mean to one another. It felt like every conversation was either an argument or a con (which is also in a way also a kind of argument). There is nothing technically wrong with this novel--it just wasn't for me....more
The first problem I had with this book is the author is a bonehead. On page 8 he tells us “I have known many welfare queens; some were neighbors, and The first problem I had with this book is the author is a bonehead. On page 8 he tells us “I have known many welfare queens; some were neighbors, and all were white.”
I have no idea what I’m supposed to make of that statement. Or actually yes I do know but even so I try to look away. Because of course “welfare queen” is a derogatory term used by people of means to deride the poor, and of course it’s most commonly used to demean and dehumanize urban black poor women, but an author bragging that he knows white “welfare queens” doesn’t really get to the core problem of using a derogatory term to describe poor women, does it? I guess he thinks himself enlightened for declaring that poor people of all colors are equally lazy and undeserving. The entire book is based on the premise that the poor are poor because they are lazy and bitter.
The second problem I had with this supposed memoir is it has all the depth and compassion of a Three Stooges episode. It’s an endless string of anecdotes that involve outrageous behavior, destruction of property, and/or grave bodily harm. Take for instance a time when someone douses another someone with gasoline and sets that someone on fire. Don’t worry! No one was seriously hurt! It’s okay to laugh! Or if anyone was hurt, they deserved it! Also don’t forget that hillbilly folk actually like to hurt one another, because we’re all kind of stupid and lazy! Except me, because I went to Yale and made something of myself, just like anyone can, if they have grit and spitfire!
I wanted to hang out with this brave-yet-clueless protagonist and to cheer her on even as she poisoned her dog out of love for her Merman. The novel fI wanted to hang out with this brave-yet-clueless protagonist and to cheer her on even as she poisoned her dog out of love for her Merman. The novel felts very lighthearted and romp-ish as I read along, but then, the ending was so rewarding, and so unexpected, and so lovely and wise, that I felt I’d just read a profound book in disguise.
Even though the protagonist is both clueless and ridiculous, she is open to the world, and knows her own faults, and the lessons she learns in the course of her singular relationship with a mythic creature—about the nature of romantic love, and the dangers of single-minded devotion to another (whether you are receiving that devotion, or giving it)—are beautifully and surprisingly and deeply told.
The sex writing in this novel deserves a huge shout-out. The sex writing is brave and funny, and no matter how meticulously and biologically detailed a scene gets the writing always always serves the best interest of the story.
If, at some point, the novel hooks you the way it did me, then you might end up putting it on that glorious shelf of honor reserved for books that explore women’s desires in deeply satisfying ways, right next to Bear and Mrs. Caliban....more
These 88 short pages are so intensely packed with image and feeling that reading it can’t help but be both wrenching and cathartic.
This is the story oThese 88 short pages are so intensely packed with image and feeling that reading it can’t help but be both wrenching and cathartic.
This is the story of a man trying to survive to the end of the last, senselessly destructive days of the Second World War, when chaos has overcome any sense of order or meaning in the conflict, and armies are scattered into roving bands of looters who feel no loyalty or purpose beyond terror and retribution, and when the best side with which to align yourself, to keep on living, can switch in an instant.
The narrator is a master of survival: good at knowing when to fight, or to run, or to hide. He has a pure kind of ruthlessness when his life is at stake. And yet whenever he has the chance—whenever his survival isn’t threatened—he reaches for human, genuine connection with those who cross his path. He feels pity. He feels a sense of wanting to protect what is most fragile and beautiful in the world, even if it won’t help him survive. He records the events he witnesses with such meticulous detail that even the most destructive and cruel acts are given a kind of dignity. The attention he devotes to describing undeserved acts of barbarism done to innocent others—some of which he witnesses, some of which he perpetrates himself—lifts this story from nihilism into a realm of hope for something better to come.
A beautifully told story of an ugly and destructive time. ...more
At the beginning of this book I was hyperventilating a little as I read because the sentences were so exhilaratingly good. Kushner somehow creates a fAt the beginning of this book I was hyperventilating a little as I read because the sentences were so exhilaratingly good. Kushner somehow creates a first-person voice that is both soaring and intimate. I believed in this woman, and in her life story. She is self-aware and smart and a very good listener and a terrific observer of her world. The dialogue and the situations and gosh even just the smell of the bus came through for me magnificently. I cared about her.
One thing I especially loved about this early writing in the novel was the fillip of surprise that came at the end of almost every sentence. Nothing showy about it. It’s just the feeling that each sentence goes somewhere a little unexpected. There is always a bit more-than-expected visual information, or bit of action, that takes a sentence from vivid to dazzling. Wonderful.
My enjoyment and appreciation of the novel dropped sharply as soon as I got to ch. 4, though, and the point of view switched to Gordon Hauser. Why, oh, why couldn’t this have been a smart take on one woman’s life story in prison? Why couldn’t it have been a female Falconer? I would have killed for such a novel. I could admire everything about the writing as the story continued, but Kushner’s choice to be panoramic instead of character-focused ended up making this a pretty-good book for me, instead of an unforgettable one. The strength of the writing in those sections when Kushner is describing intimate human happenings through Romy’s eyes doesn’t find its match in the other sections and points of view.
Also, this: While I don’t need a happy ending, I would have preferred an elevation of some kind at the end of this novel, rather than the feeling that a final door was being closed. There is a choice that comes near the end of a story when a writer can choose either to stay inside her narrow original vision of the story, or punch free of it, and let the story expand, almost on its own, where you can leave the reader with something bigger than what came before. Where you leave the reader with an ending that allows for the possibility of joy, or the possibility of solace at least, or even just the hope that there is some part of the story still left to tell.
Here is what I mean. Here is the final paragraph from Falconer, the final scene after Farragut escapes from prison:
Stepping from the bus onto the street, he saw that he had lost his fear of falling and all other fears of that nature. He held his head high, his back straight, and walked along nicely. Rejoice, he thought, rejoice. ...more
What a terrific, tense read! I loved it. It's remarkable for being very simply told, and yet absolutely gripping. What a terrific, tense read! I loved it. It's remarkable for being very simply told, and yet absolutely gripping. ...more
Maybe because I've only read a handful of psychological thrillers before this one, the novel kept surprising me over and over again. I enjoyed readingMaybe because I've only read a handful of psychological thrillers before this one, the novel kept surprising me over and over again. I enjoyed reading it very much. I enjoyed it all the more because the author was a teacher and homemaker and wrote this novel in between chores and grades. I want to stand up and cheer at the way she transformed the drudgery and thanklessness of those jobs into this ruthless clever payback of a book. Way to go Minato-Sensei! ...more
A humble, lucid, remarkably thorough take on the evolution of conservatism in the U.S. The book is a delightful mix of personal and political. The hisA humble, lucid, remarkably thorough take on the evolution of conservatism in the U.S. The book is a delightful mix of personal and political. The history and policy discussion were straightforward, without ever feeling incomplete or condescending. This is a book full of urgency about the danger American democracy is facing, and yet it never feels angry or alarmist. It feels hopeful. I loved that. I feel well-informed and ready to face tomorrow....more
This novel has the rhythm of a Japanese TV drama--fast pacing, ridiculously deep and emotional and/or violent reactions to conflict, a high school setThis novel has the rhythm of a Japanese TV drama--fast pacing, ridiculously deep and emotional and/or violent reactions to conflict, a high school setting, and great attention paid to hierarchical obligation. Add a little yakuza, a little pachinko, a little social commentary, and a great sense of place (especially if you're familiar with Tokyo) and there you have it.
I loved the matter-of-fact story-telling. I even loved the lack of nuance. Having lived in Japan and also having studied kick-boxing there I especially loved the detail about which neighborhood/subway line/train station the protagonist was traveling throughout this novel, and the choreographic details given about the many fistfights. Also, I used to teach English in a Japanese high school where more than a few students had dads who were yakuza, so this was a perfectly nostalgic read for me....more
Jamie Quatro sets for herself the enormous task of wanting us to believe in a character who feels equal passion for her faith, her intellect, and her Jamie Quatro sets for herself the enormous task of wanting us to believe in a character who feels equal passion for her faith, her intellect, and her pursuit of erotic fulfillment. Does Quatro succeed in her task of making Maggie believable, her struggles real? She did for me.
I was raised in a deeply religious household and Maggie's choices felt right to me. Because my view is through the lens of childhood upbringing, it's impossible for me to say whether this story will work for someone without that background. Without that background I imagine it's hard to reconcile how the religious passion in Maggie relates to her intellectual passion, for instance, since people of faith often seem more interested in dogma than in intellectual questioning. And it will also be a leap for some readers to accept that her religious passion can translate into erotic feeling--the idea that both faith and erotic love require a similar surrender to a feeling greater than reason, so that the 'sin' of adultery can feel terribly similar to faith itself.
As I read this novel I thought about two other novels that placed similar demands on the reader, to take a leap of faith, so to speak: Mariette in Ecstasy by Ron Hansen, which asked readers to accept a world where religious miracles are attended to; and On Chesil Beach by Ian McEwan, which asks readers to believe that a grown woman in the 20th century could be completely ignorant of sex on her wedding night. Some readers won't connect with these books, whereas other readers will feel, "yes, I totally believe that could happen."...more
Early in this novel the teen-aged Dara kisses the first great love of her life, Rhodie, and in a burst of insight and joy she realizes she is a lesbiaEarly in this novel the teen-aged Dara kisses the first great love of her life, Rhodie, and in a burst of insight and joy she realizes she is a lesbian. The very next day Dara overhears her uncle, the town sheriff, laughing with another officer about how the two of them had cured four women of their ‘perversion’ by raping them the night before, and in second burst of insight Dara realizes she will never be safe in her home town, and runs away.
If this sort of abrupt, let’s-not-waste-any-time storytelling is okay with you, then you will likely enjoy Sugar Land very much. I did. The novel has a level of sweetness that floats above its main story of homophobia and racism, and the sweetness blurs the edges of things, so that the harsh parts of the story never get too difficult to read. In this way it reminded me of Under the Udala Trees, another coming-of-age-while-lesbian story that was thematically true but never so violent that I needed to look away. For some stories I need this level of non-reality, frankly. A gentle, upbeat book with a happy ending sometimes speaks to me more than full-on reality, because I can keep reading. The story that unspools here is beautifully told and I felt safe within these pages.
Another thing I loved about this novel is its depiction of minimum-wage work. Like Dara I have also worked in a cafeteria, and in all-male-except-me settings. I’ll never forget some of the things left on the cafeteria trays coming at me on their way to the conveyor belt to the dishwasher, or the way it feels to hash up slop eight hours a day, or the general awfulness of men in a group when you’re the only woman around, or how your hair smells at the end of the day. This way of life is so well portrayed here that I was almost overcome a few times by bad-gravy memories as I read.
While the people in Sugar Land never feel exactly real, they do feel like fictional people I cared about, and whose welfare I worried about....more
In 2018 I began to re-read novels with frequency and zeal. I'm not talking about re-reading Shakespeare plays and Jane Austen novels and new translatiIn 2018 I began to re-read novels with frequency and zeal. I'm not talking about re-reading Shakespeare plays and Jane Austen novels and new translations of The Iliad and all the other stuff we all agree is worth re-reading, if and when we have the time. I'm talking about turning around and re-reading a newly published book within months or weeks or days of my first reading, a practice that I've come to embrace and to even look forward to, even though (like all the other avid readers here) I have an ever-more-ominous tower of 'to-be-read' books on my list that is trying always to persuade me to call the novel "read" and move on.
The House of Broken Angels is my latest re-read. It's maybe fitting, since this is a novel about family, that three weeks ago when I first read the novel it gave me the feeling I have sometimes when members of my own extended family come to visit--'ok I love you guys, but too much of a good thing is too much of a good thing, so maybe now it's time to go home.' I got to the end of my first read of this novel thinking almost exclusively about what I didn't like about these characters. Especially the men. Throughout the novel their thoughts and actions pricked my sensibilities, and made me hypercritical, until I was very cranky by the end.
But then it felt to me, because it was true, that I'd closed my mind to the goodness of these characters, and focused on their flaws. I don't like doing that with people, so why did I think it was fine to be so opinionated about people in books?
And so I read it again, deciding that this time I'd let these people be themselves.
Let me tell you something. I was deeply, deeply moved. By getting out of my own way and my own judgments I could see the extraordinary depth of feeling Urrea has created here among the members of this fictional family. A history of choices, and of memories shared. The extraordinary careful rendering of a blended family, not only blended by ethnicity but also by nationality--here is a fictional rendition of a family living the reality of border politics for the last few decades, the way undocumented and citizen exist within the same family, their fates determined by a few miles difference between their place of birth. It gently, yet devastatingly lays out the way border-crossing experiences can be, in some years, easy memories, whereas in other years (like those closer to the present day) border crossing becomes a harrowing outrageous violation of selfhood. The second time, I marveled at the way these people forgive one another. I loved the way the author loves this family, too, flaws and all, and the way he invites me to love them. My previous irritations with these characters' faults felt like I was being that kind of a family member who refuses to forget and move on and to forgive other family members, whereas this family, Big Angel's family, was all about forgetting and moving on and forgiving.
This novel is a beautiful humane depiction of the dignity of everyday humans, and you should read it.
Sometimes a get to the end of a book and it says to me, "turn around. go back. take another look." I'm so glad this novel said that to me.
... 1/3/19: Ok, I am reading this again and I'm loving it completely and without reservation. More to come. ...
First Read/Review, 12/15/18:
I loved this book but in a quiet way. As I read I kept thinking: 'wow, that's lovely,' and 'my, that is beautifully put,' and 'oh, what a dear way to capture this filial feeling,' but even so I was also feeling a little restless, and as if I'd stayed too long in a bath, or maybe, it's that I felt exactly as if I, too, was at this big family reunion, where almost everyone is a bit noisier than I would like, and none of them are very good listeners, and, even though I love them, and even though I know they are good people who are doing their best, all I want is for them to leave me alone, so I can go find a quiet room, and close the door behind me preferably with a glass of wine and a good book to keep me company....more
I just got home from my book club where we discussed the Animators and I discovered many things I enjoyed about the novel, once I look passecond take:
I just got home from my book club where we discussed the Animators and I discovered many things I enjoyed about the novel, once I look past my disappointment with the writing. The characters have depth. There are some vivid scenes. There are many stories being told within this novel, and while none of them get resolved in a typical fictional arc, that might actually be something to be intrigued by as a reader, instead of being grumpled by it. For instance, the novel could have stayed a college-discovery story all the way through, or it could have been the story of two women learning how to work together in a highly competitive field, or the story of addiction recovery, or the story of how friendship is tested after one friend experiences grave illness, or the story of recovering from childhood sexual trauma, or the story about how your own family looks different when you bring your best friend home to meet them, when you see them through your friend's eyes...or the story of meeting your first love when you're both grown up...or the death of a friend...they all could have been a whole novel, and instead none of these stories get fully told. That may not be a terrible thing.
My original review:
This novel is going to make a great TV series, for the simple fact that the book passes the Bechdel Test with flying colors, and we need more TV series that do exactly that. The scenes read like storyboards for a TV series, complete with dramedy-style moments of TV-style truth, and with unpredictable twists that come along every twenty pages or so that will make great season cliff-hangers.
As a book it fails for me completely, though.
Reading The Animators felt something like this to me...all quotes from the novel:
I grimace He grimaces The morgue guy grimaces She grimaces She walks through the stumble, grimacing Her eyes go wide His eyes are wide She narrows her eyes She narrows her eyes, grimacing She narrows her eyes, gazing The guard narrows her eyes Teddy narrows his eyes at Mel and takes a deep breath I take a deep breath I open my mouth and fish a piece of enamel out I open my mouth I open my mouth I open my mouth She cries, mouth open It all falls apart when I open my mouth
The clichéd beats began to feel like a metaphorical toothache, where twinges of annoyance grew to massive shooting stabs of pain and blotted out every other thing about the novel by the end.
I've been on Goodreads long enough to know that I'm unusually literal in the way I read, and that many people will be able to gloss right over these clichéd beats and that they fill in for the author what the author probably meant to write instead. People have started to realize this about my reading style and can adjust accordingly when reading my reviews.
But also this: I thought the child abuse subplot was gratuitous, melodramatic, poorly written, and unfortunate. This unexpected, unnecessary swerve in this story completely wiped out any points I might have given the novel for its Bechdel cred....more
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