My Antonia and The Bean Trees

The midwest might be considered the breadbasket of America, but my sister and I knew midwestern foods from the following categories: vegetables were from a can, and usually casseroled with the help of cream of mushroom soup. Salad would be based on jello not lettuce, and would be sprinkled throughout with marshmallows or mandarin oranges, not peppers or croutons.  By late January the snow piles had reached 5 feet and taller and I had a nostalgic hunger for not just banana pudding and Old El Paso tacos, but tales of survival in the midwest when survival meant more than shoveling the front sidewalk.

I'd read My Antonia by Willa Cather in high school and remembered loving it, although the story had faded in my memory.  In the last quarter of the 19th century Antonia arrived in Nebraska farmland with her family from Bohemia. Not farmers by trade, they struggled through the first winter, with Antonia easily doing the farm work of any boy her age and aided in English lessons by Virginia transplant Jim, a boy a few years her junior.

A century later Taylor was making her own journey out west in Barbara Kingsolver's The Bean Trees.  For Taylor, survival meant escaping her native Kentucky without getting pregnant, but when her car breaks down in Oklahoma and she's given a catatonic little girl, she names her Turtle and takes her with her to her ultimate stopping point of Tuscon, acknowledging the irony.

Jim is the narrator in My Antonia, but the women are it's heroines. He admires their strength and beauty-- these are women who have to work to earn a living. For some that means prospecting for gold, opening a successful dress shop or raising a family to work the farm. He defends them the anti-immigrant bias of the day and even years later when he's a successful Harvard trained attorney, is humbled by their success.

To rescue herself, Taylor jumps into motherhood, rescuing Turtle, but also rescues Estevan and Esperanza, immigrant refugees from Latin America and Lou Ann, a woman who becomes her roommate and confidante and needs Taylor as much as Taylor needs her.

Five stars for both books, which satiated my hunger for the midwest while I was holed away in a terrible New England winter...even if I did have to indulge in some 7 layer dip and Snickers salad.

Zeitoun and The Lacuna

If Dave Eggers wrote the original Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius, he's followed it up as an adult with even more heartbreaking works: What is the What a few years ago and Zeitoun in the past year or so.  It might be too soon for some to read a non-fiction account of a family's post-Katrina life in New Orleans.  If that family is Muslim, it might put anyone over the edge.  After sitting on my shelf for a year, I picked it up only because it's the current book club pick. I didn't know if I was ready to cry through the entire story.
The cover is an illustration, but could be any number of photographs that came out the days following the hurricane and levee breaks...a man in a canoe, gliding through the streets.  The man is Abdulrahman Zeitoun, a Syrian immigrant who owns a contracting business along with his wife, Kathy.  Eggers writes about their lives in a journalistic fashion.  He fills in the day-to-day life of a hard working father of five with brief backgrounds of Zeitoun's life in Syria and Kathy's life as a younger woman in New Orleans (including her decision to convert to Islam).  Kathy and Zeitoun watched the weather reports leading up to Katrina's attack on the gulf coast much as we all did, but most of us didn't have to decide weather or not to evacuate and most of us didn't have to come home to houses completely inundated.  Even fewer of us chose to stay in New Orleans, as Zeitoun did, witnessing trapped neighbors, looting, interrogations by the law and the lawless.
The Lacuna by Barbara Kingsolver is a different account of so called law in the guise of public safety but 50 years earlier.  It's a fictional account of William Harrison, an American who grew up in Mexico and ended up working for Frida Kahlo and Diego Rivera as a kind of jack of all trades-- sometimes plaster mixer, sometimes cook, sometimes confidante to Mrs. Kahlo.  Frida has become such an iconoclast that it was hard to believe her conversations with Harrison.  I had trouble seeing where Kingsolver was going at times-- why so much background on Harrison's mother? It was a 600+ page book and at times I felt like I wouldn't make it through.  But then there was a turning point.  When Kingsolver devoted the second half of the book to Harrison as popular author and quiet bachelor in a small Southern town, the story became compelling.  Kahlo and and Rivera are too big to compete with and Harrison deserves to stand on his own, and he does.  In a short time we learn that he is targeted as a Communist, quotes from his fiction are attributed to him, out of context, and no matter what, the US government will bring him down.  Kingsolver is a bit heavy handed in her allusions to current government control and persecution (read Zeitoun) but Harrison is a complete and sympathetic character. I felt the same helplessness with Harrison as I did with Zeitoun.
These may not be the best reads for conspiracy theorists...or maybe they're the best reads for all of us. 5 and 4 stars respectively.