Rag and Bone: A Journey Among The World's Holy Dead

A little over a year ago, my sister Liz took me to the Basilica of the National Shrine of the Immaculate Conception. It's off the beaten track of the other monuments in DC and there's nothing much else out there. But we were curious and we like churches. The Basilica was immense and sparkling and to two non-Catholics, daunting. We opted for the tour. Our guide explained statues and histories of saints and took us into special alcoves and soon we all lined up to view the relic. Maybe it was a bone fragment; I can't recall. But we all moved in a circle to get a glimpse.

Peter Manseau tells similar stories of viewing relics the world over in Rag and Bone: A Journey Among the World's Holy Dead. His interest is that of a layperson, like myself. He's not someone who has a strong religious attachment to the relics he visits themselves, but is curious about how the affect so many people, and on some level, are common to all the world's religions. He visits India, Israel, Pakistan, Syria and interacts with Jews, Catholics and Muslims. He describes a brief history of each of the relics he visits-- most are dubiously authentic but have at any rate suffered indignities and brutalities post mortem that sometimes exceed the violence experienced by the living person. And he usually speaks with the caretakers of the relics and/or shrines. He meets a nun whose personal life was marked by so many violent accidents that she felt compelled to turn to religion and the saint whose remains her convent now hosts. He met a family who for generations had been guarding a holy tooth in Kashmir, but who had lost their legacy through politics; Inidian guards now hold the keys. He met a scientist whose life work it has been to verify (or not) the remains of Saint Joan of Arc. He claims he is not spiritual, yet he reveres her bones with a fervor usually reserved for the most pious.

Mr. Manseau comes to realize that the relics are more than just a spritual connection-- in Sri Lanka they provide jobs-- helping the economy informally (tours) and formally (the requisite gift shop), in France, local pride unites a community and in Syria, children get to practice their English with tourists.

Mr. Manseau journeys the world with curiousity and respect. For him, it's a strictly personal exploration as much as an means to discovering the history of relics. His message is subtle-- living people and living history is more important than the dead.

For myself, the Basillica was beautiful, but maybe too beautiful. It was hard to for me to reconcile the ostentatious gilt with the suffering experienced by the saints featured. I appreciated Mr. Manseau's journey.

Netflix rating: 4/5 stars

Hot House Flower and the Nine Plants of Desire

I like my reading to match my cooking, that is, it should be seasonally appropriate. Sure, you can splurge and buy a $6 pint of strawberries mid-winter but you'll eat a grainy and tasteless strawberry shortcake. And somehow an oven roasted acorn squash tastes completely out of place mid-July. Likewise, why would you read Dr. Zhivago in the summer? It's cold weather reading! You have to be under a blanket with a cup of hot tea.

Hot House Flower and the Nine Plants of Desire by Margot Berwin was just in season for this summer. It was cool and rainy early summer, just like the New York March weather when Lila Nova buys her first tropical flower from David Exley at the Union Square Green Market. She soon notices a mystical laundromat owned by Armand, who is also a collector of tropical flowers. Entering the laundromat is like entering a tropical paradise, and soon Lila is intoxicated by rare plants and sexy vendors.

Just as the Boston heat and humidity set in, Lila headed off with a one way ticket to the Yucatan jungle to find the mythical nine plants of desire and, yes, herself (this is summer reading, after all!).

This book was smart and contemporary and offered just enough escapism to (nearly) make me forget that it was 63 F and drizzly. 5/5 netflix stars.

Recommended eating: tropical fruit salad, even if the fruit's not grown locally.

Atmospheric Disturbances

I really enjoy ambitious first novels. Some of the best books of the past century are first novels (The Catcher In The Rye, The Sun Also Rises, Sister Carrie, V, Catch 22). Many books are status quo, a la Anita Shreve (more on her in coming weeks), with perhaps a strong plotline, but written in a staid manner. It's gutsy to tackle history with humor like Jonathan Safron Foer's Everything Is Illuminated. Likewise, Rivka Galchen's first novel, Atmospheric Disturbances, tackled marriage, psychology and the weather, with aplomb.

We are introduced to Leo, a pyschiatrist, just as he realizes his wife Rema has been replaced by a double (simulacrum; if you don't like strange vocabulary, this book isn't for you). Double Rema is almost his wife, but not quite. His wife, for example, would never bring home a dog like the double did. Leo decides that by finding one of his missing psychiatric patients, he might be clued in to where the real Rema is. Slowly the reader is pulled into Leo's implausible adventure searching for Rema. It starts in New York, a bakery that they frequent, but soon moves to Argentina and beyond.

On one level this is a story of a man descending into a type of madness, but on another level it's the story of a man who has lost the love he had for his wife. This book is equal parts Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind and The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time. With a dash of Borges thrown in.

5/5 Netflix stars

The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn

There are more than a few classics I never read growing up. For this I have to say, "Thank you Wichita Public Schools." I love Jane Austen books and can proudly say, "I knew Mr. Darcy was not a cad all along." But sadly this is from watching endless hours of BBC productions, not from having read the books. I'll admit it: I've never cracked open a Jane Austen novel. I'm working on remedying this, so decided to make quick work of another classic I've never read, The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn by Mark Twain. Growing up next door to Missouri this might be a little surprising but even though ET#1 thought I must have been absent from that week of 9th grade, I checked with my sister and she never had to read it either, so it wasn't my fault. I certainly read a lot of American authors-- Poe, Wharton (Ethan Frome, ugh!), Knowles...but never Twain.
I won't comment a lot on this book, in part because Twain advises us not to read into any morality and in part because any liberal leaning, This American Life loving, born and bred in the heartland (Kansas-- a free state from the get go!) can easily see where the book was going. Plus I had the soundtrack to Big River on cd in about 7th grade. The book was delightful and my only disappointment was that it was essentially a sequel to The Adventures of Tom Sawyer (oh references to Lost, I'm sure!).
Today I made my own journey...to the grocery store. And bought catfish, in honor of Huck and Jim, and fried it up good.
Netflix stars: 5/5

Russian Journal

I put greater trust in people with whom I share a name, Andrea. I picked a primary care doctor only because her name was Andrea and she was fantastic. All the Andreas I've ever met have been amazing. So when I discovered the writer Andrea Lee several years ago, I automatically assumed she would be a great writer. Not only do we share the same first name, but my middle name is Lee, so the sisterhood was sealed. And, true to form, she is a great writer.
Russian Journal is her first book-- it's a non fiction description of her time in the Soviet Union in the late 70s. Growing up in the 80s, the Soviet Union was a place completely off limits-- images of dark, dismal landscapes, people waiting in endless lines for scratchy toilet paper and root vegetables, plus, of course the constant threat of Communism to our freedom loving souls. Ms. Lee carefully paints a picture not unlike that described above, but with even more depth. She does not hide her distaste for the shortfalls of the huge Communist country-- the poverty, miseducation of its citizens and destruction of an imperial history in favor of boxy low rent conformity. But she draws a careful line between the institution that created this and the people who are a part of it. She makes friends who readily criticize the Party as well as friends whose patriotism is unmatched. She uses a journalist's eye to evoke character descriptions of her friends and the total landscape they inhabit. She finds herself missing "luxuries" such as freely speaking and going wherever she would like. She misses the glitzy advertising in the U.S. that is missing from the U.S.S.R. She misses the "whole" movie (sex scenes are edited out of imported movies). But when she arrives back in Boston, she finds she has a much greater appreciation for the lives and struggles of her Russian friends and finds herself appreciating them all the more.
Ms. Lee's descriptions confirmed many of my notions about Soviet Russia-- the coveting of American blue jeans and music, the cold and cramped housing. But now I'll also think of Grigorii, the student assigned to spy on Ms. Lee and her husband, but who they grew close to nonetheless, and his quiet appreciation of the nightingale's song. Or of Ms. Lee's descriptions of the ice breaking up in the spring, and the crisp cool air with eventual lilacs.
This was a beautifully written book so I'm giving if 5/5 netflix stars.

The Pickup

Besides being a book on my shelf, The Pickup was authored by Nadine Gordimer, a friend of Paul Theroux, so after reading his his novellas, I thought I'd give this a shot. I read July's People a few years ago and found it both uncomfortable and probably accurate. Ms. Gordimer is a white African, and, like Doris Lessing or other female, white, African writers, carries a heavy mantle. She writes about race conflict, but in an intimate, yet removed, manner.
The Pickup details a relationship between Julie, a privelaged white South African woman, and her "pick-up" lover, Adbu, someone from a more 3rd world African country. At first I thought The Pickup was a comment on the current U.S. policy on "illegals" but came to realize that many countries have this conflict and that while I could see current U.S. debate in the characters, it was also very space specific. To mention that Julie is privelaged is like saying the earth is round; she chooses to live a bohemian lifestyle, maybe working, maybe not, in a small cottage in the city, away from her suburban upbringing and well-to-do father. She regularly meets a group of friends at the L.A. Cafe and these friends serve as her surrogate family. They all come and go, not answering to anyone. She meets Abdu when she gets in an accident and needs her car repaired. On impulse she invites him to coffee at her cafe and from there it goes. She seems sincere, but it's unclear what she sees in him-- is he a further act of revolt from her father? And what does he see in her besides a possible entree into "legal" society? They take their relationship farther than anyone imagines, and Julie can ask for general favors from her family: money to provide a needed well for his family (a liberal ideal of service) but cannot ask her father for specific help obtaining visas. Abdu can provide for her adventure and something different (she does not shy away from, nor complain about rustic conditions) but cannot provide the ultimate security for her: an accepting family.
Ms. Gordimer writes this book in the 3rd person passive voice, making it difficult to get to fully know or identify with the characters, which is maybe the point. She interjects editorial, pointing out that Julie's, and that of her friends and family, status would give allow her to emigrate country to country, never really being "illegal" but Abdu, by virtue of his race, religion and country of birth, can never be welcomed anywhere but there.
I liked this book but didn't love it. I had a hard time identifying with any of the characters although by the end I was able to sympathize with the decisions each made. I give this book 3/5 netflix stars.

Trail of Crumbs: Hunger, Love and the Search for Home

I picked up this book after seeing an ad for it in the New Yorker; a memoir about a young woman's life in France and her love of food...having just finished My Life In France I was still hungry.  Trail of Crumbs by Kim Sunee delivered on the romantic just as Julia Child's book did.  But it was filled with bittersweet and sometimes downright depressing imagery as well.  The end of most chapters contained at least one recipe corresponding to the remembered time and place just described.
Ms. Sunee was adopted by a New Orleans couple after being abandoned on the streets of South Korea with just a handful of crumbs for three days.  Like other books I've read about an adopted child, Ms. Sunee is never quite happy, and doesn't fit in.  She and her sister are the only Asian children in school and she always feels uncomfortable around her parents.  She does find solace with her grandparents, especially her grandfather, from whom she learns the secrets of Louisiana cooking.  As soon as she's old enough to leave home, she does.  She spends a semester abroad in France as her first travel alone.  She wants to become a poet, a writer and learns French.  She is soon able to translate for work.
At a young age she meets men more advanced in years and experience, but being seemingly fearless, Ms. Sunee follows them, looking for her own history.  At 23 she falls in love with a wealthy, nearing 40 year old French businessman with an adolescent daughter.  Ms. Sunee is soon "adopted" into this family with various roles: lover, step mother, social hostess, home keeper and cook.  She only feels truly comfortable cooking and provides the reader for recipes such as spring pea salads and La Daube Provencale, wild peaches poached in Lillet Blanc and Figs roasted in Red Wine.  Some of her recipes are memories of a past both real (Monday red beans and rice, Crawfish bisque) and imagined (quick fix kimchi).
As the years pass she feels more and more unsettled, especially as her partner Olivier establishes a life for her more and more.  She ultimately has to make decisions that women twice her age have a hard time making, and her naivete and inexperience push through her strong facade.  While I respected her for her bravery, I was conscious of her seeming lack of appreciation for a life she had, whether she truly wanted it or not (probably an inherent trait in a young 20 something).
I liked this book, but I was hopeful for more sophisticated self reflection, a la Eat, Pray, Love.  Still, it was an enjoyable read, one that took the gloom out of a bleak Boston Sunday.  4/5 netflix stars.

Eat, Pray, Love guest entry by Nora

Eat, Pray, Love
Elizabeth does a fantastic job of welcoming us into her travels, her friendships, her experiences, her meals, and most significantly, her deepest emotions and darkest times. Her candid account of her innermost thoughts makes the reader feel understood. By telling us things that we ourselves would be embarrassed to admit, she allows us to accept ourselves. That it is ok to go through ups and downs, to need guidance, to not have all the answers, to be scared or confused, to want something and feel guilty about it, and finally to let that guilt go.
Elizabeth has an amazing ability to describe things (food, people, feelings). In fact, I spent the whole section on Italy hungry.
I give this book 5 out of 5!

Eat, Pray, Love

Personal perspectives on religion or spirituality can often be boring at best and unbelievably awkward at worst. Fortunately Elizabeth Gilbert presents her own journey (the physical and metaphysical), in Eat Pray Love, without gravitas and with humor and humility. I happen to be a big fan of the single-woman-on-a-journey-after-heartbreak literature (read: Tales of a Female Nomad), and Liz (can I call her Liz?) has such a great sense of humor (personifying Depression and Lonliness as thugs, getting a prim and proper Italian saleswoman to admit that she, Liz, does indeed look like the pasta and gelato she spent three months eating in Italy and divulging her friend's nickname for her as Groceries) that I felt immediately drawn to her and her friends.
I was torn between her reasons for getting a divorce: "finding yourself" seems a lame reason to give up a shared life, but she readily admitted that, and how brave is it to actually go on a year's journey, by yourself, to three unknown countries, and come out at the other end a better person?
I think the same narrative could have been mangled by a less sophisticated writer. Liz doesn't fall into the trite or privelaged perspective. She really maintains a balance (which was her goal in the year of travel) and when she starts to tip, she laughs, has the reader laugh with her, and pulls herself back up.
Netflix stars? A whopping 5 out of 5!