Priscilla Whitley

 
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I hesitated with this book. The title didn’t appeal to me. The History of LoveCertainly not my kind of book. A book of love, a book about love, the reading of others bound within the glories of love? No, I’ve been in love and love, that kind of love, the romantic love, swept away love, the one which makes you sigh leaving all cares of the real world behind, that kind of love doesn’t seem to fit within my life anymore. So I don’t care to read about others and their joys.

But a friend encouraged me to read this and since I trust her, I decided to have an open mind. And within the first few pages the story of Leo, the immigrant Russian Jew, now living in Brooklyn, hoping to survive his life, oh, just a little bit longer, took me to a place I thought I never visited, but found out as I went along, this love certainly was a love I knew very well. It’s the love of the meaningful few who make your life unique. I was reminded there are surprises still around every corner.

Nicole Krauss is the author and from her tiny photo on the back, she looks to be a somewhat young woman. Almost immediately I wondered, and still do, how she found this voice of Leo. How did she put down into words his dialect, his inflections, for I can hear Leo speak as if I’d sat next to him, day after day, on the Number 4 line into Manhattan. Krauss’s imagination must be a joy for her and  those who know her, for she’s immersed herself within the life of Leo and hidden behind her lovely looking face, I think there hides an old Russian Jew.

The book takes off in a somewhat curving line, but then makes a sharp right angle and fourteen year old Alma Singer suddenly enters. She too is from Brooklyn; bright, sassy, and seeking some sort of hope for her mother’s loneliness. It’s her love for her mother and her quirky brother...who thinks he can fly...which leads her to seek out the author of a book her mother is translating...a book on the history of love...and its elderly Russian author. And so another side of Krauss is revealed, for she too occupies Alma.

This novel is heartbreaking as well as delightful. It’s devastating within the character’s losses, yet, funny and charming. It’s poignant and even suspenseful. Like all the elements of life itself. A life of love. And not just a passing love, but the deep love one has for those closest to them. A love born out of hope, for hope, after all, is all anyone really has.

The writing is gorgeous, the story touching and Krauss handles it all gracefully.

Priscilla Whitley
 
 
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I’ve always been a fan of Jon Krakauer.  From his well known books such as Into Thin Air and Into the Wild to his lesser known works like Under the Banner of Heaven.  He has a very simplistic journalistic tone to his writing.  He makes things very easy to read, which is a very hard thing to do.  He also asks questions.  But he does so without being imposing.  I’ve always said I’ll read just about anything he writes, regardless of the topic.  Which is how I found myself reading his most recent book, Where Men Win Glory, about Pat Tillman.  I’d of course heard of Pat Tillman.  To me he was reduced to “former NFL player who joined the Army Rangers after 9/11 and was killed in Afghanistan.  Oh, and he was killed by friendly fire, right?”  Truth be told, I probably wouldn’t have picked up a book about this young man if Krakauer hadn’t written about him.  But luckily he did.
 
I think the thing I need to mention is what a remarkable man Tillman was, and I think the book did a fabulous job of taking him out of that stereotype that I, and probably many others, have pegged him for.  I had figured he was a good conservative, Christian boy, a jock of course, who was driven to enlist because of a blind sighted patriotism.  In fact, Tillman was quite the free thinker who grew up not far from where my uncle spent the best years of his life surfing.  Yes he was a jock, but his long hair and attitude gave another impression.  Above all, Tillman questioned everything, much like Krakauer does in his book.  He enlisted in the Army alongside his brother, leaving behind a lucrative career and a new wife, because he felt it was right.  But Krakauer points out that both Tillman brothers questioned the president and his advisors, as well as the army.
 
Moving away from that story line a bit, my favorite part about this book was the way Krakauer weaved the history of Afghanistan into Tillman’s own story.  It definitely surprised me; I didn’t realize I was getting a very intensive, historical narrative.  But I happened to enjoy this immensely (coupled probably by the fact that this is my area of interest right now, and I’m fascinated by the Afghan culture and history). A good majority of the first half of this book was about Afghanistan, with only a slight mention of Tillman here and there.  What I loved was the way Krakauer would spend a good 10 pages on a certain battle up in the mountains of Afghanistan.  The reader completely forgets they’re reading about an American from the Bay area.  Until the next page begins with something like, “In the predawn hours on the day of that game, as Pat was asleep in his hotel room, a Toyota delivery truck appeared at the entrance to a parking lot behind the American embassy in Nairobi, Kenya," ( pg. 79). 
 
Little by little Krakauer began to weave the stories of Afghanistan (acting as a character) and Tillman.  Brilliantly done.  I began to see how the two stories were coming together.  Where they were going to collide.  And where there would be some sort of commentary on our (the U.S.) role, or lack of a role, in this mountainous Asian country.
 
The story diverted a bit too much to Iraq, though.  Yes Tillman did his first tour there.  And yes, I now see the necessary correlation that Krakauer makes between a disastrous friendly fire encounter that was squashed in the media by the rescue of Jessica Lynch and the propaganda machine in Washington that perpetuated the cover-up in Iraq.  I get it.  It’s definitely important to the story.  But that part needed a little bit of editing.  I felt like we got totally off track from Afghanistan (which is, I guess what happened in real life too).  My main critique of the book is I wish Krakauer could have found a way to better incorporate the style that was used early on – weaving the situation in Afghanistan with Tillman – in the latter half.  By the end of the book we were so caught up with figuring out what exactly happened the moments before Tillman was killed by friendly fire, the subsequent cover ups and propaganda from the government and the Army back home, that Afghanistan got lost in all the shuffle.
 
I must give accolades for Krakauer for doing his investigative research.  He's always done this well, and it shows.  I can’t imagine how difficult and tiresome it must have been to break through the barriers of the military to dig up all the information he did.  His final presentation on the minutes before and after Tillman’s death were not his own commentary.  He let the evidence, and the oral history speak for itself.  He presented the material as fact, and by doing so was able to make a strong statement – all without ever actually offering his view.  He simple told the story.  
 
I would absolutely recommend this book.  It’s a very powerful story on a variety of levels.  My only major complaint: There were no pictures.  Small price to pay, I guess.  I imagine it was at the family’s request.


Aurora Matthews
 
 
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A Thousand Splendid Suns   by: Khaled Hosseini

This was by far one of the most powerful books I have read in years. It was the kind you can’t bear to put down, but as the pages in your right hand begin to disappear you become compelled to shut it just to keep the end far away.

My little love affair with this novel didn’t begin right away, though. Like the rest of the country I too devoured The Kite Runner. But I saw the movie first which was something I rarely ever do. Good film. Better book (aren’t they all?). The story of Amir and Hassan is of course incredible but I had trouble replacing the images from the movie with my own as a I read it. I also tend to have a bit of an elitist attitude when it comes to books and loathe reading something everyone else is reading (ahem…Da Vinci Code anyone?). There’s no reason. I just do. So I thought it would be perfect to read his second novel. I took it with me on a little weekend vacation to a lake in western Maryland, found a place by the water and settled in for the next few hours.

In all honesty I had a lot of difficulty getting in to it. There was hardly a summary on the book’s jacket, which is good in that it allows you to just read with no preconceived notions, but I also didn’t know where the story was heading. Either way, I kept reading. Hours and a wicked sunburn later I put it down. When I was asked how it was, I kept saying ‘it’s good. I don’t quite know where it’s going. But I trust Hosseini." I repeated that sentiment the next day too. Even when no one asked at dinner I brought it up and said I liked my book but wasn’t sure why yet.

The key thing is I really did trust him. That’s hard, I think, to trust a writer. Essentially (if they’re good) you’re letting them borrow your mind, to plant words and ideas and for you to supplement your own conceptions. To capture someone like that is hard, but for them to then believe in you is a gift.

Anyway, in the same spirit of my not having known anything about this story to begin with, I am reluctant to divulge the plot here. What I will say is that where in The Kite Runner the story is primarily about boys/men and their relationships, this is most certainly about women and the perils they face within their culture and their country. Like The Kite Runner the book is split in two; divided by time, place, but ultimately intertwined together. Two generations, two wildly different women. I’m glad I kept reading. It was absolutely worth it.

 I can honestly say that I never saw any of the plot coming. Every page surprised me, and I think that is a rare and unique thing to do as a writer. I wept, I laughed, I smiled. I have been truly touched by the characters who were developed in such a subtle way. This, I must point out, provided a distinctive substance to their nature. He dedicated a lot of space to building these characters. It was risky, but all worth it.

The other aspect of the book I wanted to address was the context of its time and place.  Both The Kite Runner and A Thousand Splendid Suns address the perils this country and her people have been through in the last century or so. The culture is rich, and comes alive in both, though in very different ways. I applaud Hosseini for writing characters who come from different backgrounds. Being from there I think it would have been easy for him to continue to write about the Afghanistan he is familiar with, the people he grew up with. But I appreciate the details and effort that were put into providing a perspective, and more importantly a voice for these women.

Reviewed by Aurora Matthews

Note: In keeping up with the spirit of this free-flowing site, I decided to write this in blog-like form rather than a traditional book review.



 
First Post! 07/12/2008
 
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