The Thoreau You Don't Know: What The Prophet of Environmentalism Really Meant

Having friends whose babies are learning to talk, I asked my mom what my first word was.  Her response? "Thoreau".  You might think from this that my parents were hippies, that they were social dissidents or that I was born to recluses in a cabin in the woods.  Or you might think I listened to "Walden" nightly while in my mom's womb.  Whatever you might think, it's probably wrong.  And that's why Robert Sullivan wrote The Thoreau You Don't Know: What The Prophet of Environmentalism Really Meant.  He wants to expand on the Thoreau we all know from reading excerpts of Walden in high school.  He wants to prove that Thoreau wasn't just an old curmudgeon.

The Thoreau You Don't Know is a very accessible biography of a now lauded American citizen.  Sullivan tells us that Thoreau was critical of society while also striving to make it better.  He came from a family of hard workers and was a successful business man (pencils!)-- not a lazy good-for-nothing bumming around in the woods.  He aimed to be a writer and a poet while knowing that it might not pay the bills-- and so supplemented his writing by doing chores for Emerson, teaching and even bringing in income from his bean crops at Walden.

Sullivan's love for Thoreau became my love for Thoreau.  I can't help but smile knowing that all his actions and his life's work were deliberate-- even if unpopular at the time (after his death a friend said he loved Thoreau, but didn't like him).  He only lived to be 45, but did so much-- and often did it with a sense of humor.  Sullivan reports that he spoke with humor and irony.

We know the Thoreau who coined the term "succession" and the Thoreau who inspired Dr. Martin Luther King.  But The Thoreau We Don't Know was also a product of his time-- a time of progression and societal change.  Sullivan shows us that Thoreau.

I give this book 4/5 netflix stars. 

And if you're curious why my first word was Thoreau?  Thoreau was the name of our family dog!

American Wife and The Wordy Shipmates

Periodically I'll put in requests for books at the public library and if the books are "best sellers" I might be number 80 on the list. I don't mind waiting, but invariably what happens is that all the books will arrive at the same time. So a couple weeks ago I got notification that American Wife by Curtis Sittenfeld had arrived along with a fellow blogger's recommendation for The Wordy Shipmates, by Sarah Vowell. With limited time to read both, I shoved my New Yorkers to the side and plowed in. Fortunately I was sick for a few days so could only read and watch KU basketball on the couch. More importantly, I realized these books are nice complements to each other.

The Wordy Shipmates is Sarah Vowell's research on the origins of American settlers in New England and American Wife is a fictionalized life story of Laura Bush (Alice Blackwell in the book)-- in short, these two books are bookends on American History.

Ms. Sittenfeld creates a thoughtful and sympathetic portrait of an average American woman. Alice grows up in a small town in Wisconsin and leads what anyone would consider a fairly ordinary life from the outside. She attends public school, goes to church, interacts with her neighbors, and has a best friend. Her dad works at a bank and her mom stays at home. Her grandma is the spunky antithesis of "normalcy"-- she provides the inspiration for Alice's lifelong liberal leanings. When Alice falls for Charlie Blackwell, a son from a strong and old Republican family, they are still years away from Charlie becoming president (based on W.). Alice is confident she and Charlie can keep their politics separate and to an extent they do, but she does find that her mores and ethics are often at odds with Charlie's public persona. She maintains a fine line between her personal feelings and public face.

Alice's conflict can directly be traced back to the 1630s. In school we learned that the Pilgrims came from England for religious freedom. That's part of the story. Ms. Vowell explains that they were all for religious freedom as long as they all adhered to an agreed upon set of rules. Sound familiar? She gives us the backstory on the founding of different colonies and the seemingly petty disagreements that led to vicious attacks on American Indians, multiple banishments of colonists and beheadings of those who disagreed with the King(s) of England. I liked Ms. Vowell's account of this history because she writes with humor and personal insight and honestly loves our founding fathers (and mothers) despite, and because of, their shortcomings. She cringes when Anne Hutchinson shoots herself in the foot and rolls her eyes at Winthrop's and Williams' disagreements. But she never apologizes for being American-- she loves America.

Both of these books were so well written and edited. They were both worth the wait, and even the $0.60 fine I'll pay for finishing The Wordy Shipmates after its due date.

5/5 netflix stars to each.

A Wedding In December

The best thing about A Wedding in December by Anita Shreve is that I finished it and can now get rid of it. The wedding in question is of two former high school sweethearts, reconnecting after 20+ years. Their closest friends from high school are also invited to the wedding and over the weekend secrets are revealed and relationships are strained.

As I was reading this I kept thinking, "this is like The Big Chill--only bad." There was every possible cliche-- audultery, cancer, accidents and death, not to mention the gratuitous mention of 9/11 (did not enhance the plot at all). I didn't find myself to be especially sympathetic to the characters.

Ms. Shreve has a very simplistic writing style, and her descriptions seemed dated and out of touch (reference to a gay classmate who had to adjust to "gay life" and even clothing and hair descriptions).

Within the novel, there was a sub-story written by Agnes. It was about a massive explosion in Halifax during WWII and I felt that plotline was way more believable and interesting. It's for that alone that this book is getting 2 stars.

I have a few more books by Ms. Shreve on my shelf. I know she is a beloved author so perhaps this book was just an anomoly-- something she wrote quickly to fulfill a contract?

Unaccustomed Earth

My first job out of college I worked with a woman named Alo. Originally from India, she and her family had lived in Newton for nearly 20 years. She worked so that her children would have access to her employee discount of education. Once her youngest was through school, she would retire. Despite her years in the US, she always wore a sari and beautiful jewelry to work. Even in winter she would wear colorful, sheer and silky saris, covered with a thick cardigan. Alo had a vast network of fellow Indians and when she learned that I had loved Jhumpa Lahiri's book Interpreter of Maladies, she divulged that she was friendly with her family and thereafter took every opportunity to share with me stories about Ms. Lahiri. "Baby", she would say, "Jhumpa wore the most gorgeous sari to a wedding shower." She would tell details of her clothes and how she styled her hair, telling me how beautiful she was. But I couldn't imagine her clothes being half as beautiful as her stories.

Unaccustomed Earth takes advantage of Ms. Lahiri's distinguished writing style. In a sense, it picks up where Interpreter of Maladies leaves off; a book of longer short stories which can be read individually, but when combined tell a larger story. Her stories explore the relationships between generations of immigrant familes, and their relationships with people outside their immediate circle of friends and family. But far from playing the race card, Ms. Lahiri's stories commentt on the universal feeling of otherness. How losing a parent or spouse can be the most lonely feeling in the world. Or the feeling when you are untethered with no permanent home. And by the regret that comes with age, over decisions and actions made when younger. She writes capably of love and loss, but also resentment and fear.

Ms. Lahiri's stories are beautiful, but less like a brightly colored chiffon sari, and more like Alo's sweater-- old and dependable, meant to comfort and warm, holding the knowlege of its owner's years.

Netflix stars: 5/5

The Maytrees

Some books are meant to be read only at certain points in your life. Several years back I attempted to read the Golden Notebook and was rebuffed (by what, the writing? I can't even recall). I told my mom who said I simply wasn't old enough to appreciate it yet. And then there are books that fall to you at exactly the right time in your life. I read Annie Dillard's epic, The Living, the summer I moved to Seattle. About pioneers who settle the Pacific Northwest, it was perfectly timed for my own settling of the Pacific Northwest. In The Living, the families become intertwined with, and are essential to, the landscape.

A note in Marie Claire reminded me that Ms. Dillard had recently published a new book, The Maytrees. I don't normally get my reading recommendations from such monthlies, but I've read most of Ms. Dillard's repertoire, so figured this would be a safe bet. In fact, it turned out to be the most perfect book for me to read this summer. A quiet book about small things made big, it, like The Living, weaves characters and place together such that it is impossible to imagine Provincetown without Toby and Lou Maytree, or Reevadere, or Deary. Likewise, it's impossible to imagine Jane Cairo or Petie growing up anywhere but the Cape dunes.

The plot is simple: man falls in love with woman, they have a child, man falls out of love with woman and in love with someone else. But in a short 215 pages, Ms. Dillard allows us to feel everything this family felt during those 40+ years, every philosophical question they had while watching the eternal stars shine over the eternal waves beyond the dunes.

I found myself drawing this book out over the course of the week. It's short and I could have finished it in about two days, but I wanted to savor it.

The women at Marie Claire didn't like this book. For Lauren and Yael, the words and language were "dense" and "off-putting" and Marty felt she had to "be older in order to be quiet enough to want to accept the challenge of the book". If you think you can't handle some big words and bigger ideas, then don't bother picking this book up. There's a genre written just for you, it features a pink cover with an single girl on it and is filed under Chick Lit.

For me, this was right up there with Housekeeping, an easy 5 stars. And yet, I'm still not going to recommend it, because when you are ready for The Maytrees, this book will find you.