Zeitoun: The nail and the hammer

Zeitoun hit me like a ton of bricks.

When it was over, I was really, really sad. Not necessarily sad to stop reading the book, but sad because I knew that the events described within were real, actual, factual events that took place in my own country. To people that could have been me, or friends.

I remember being in college at the time that Katrina hit, and I was entering my senior year. I was busy thinking about where I was going to end up after school was over; what would I do? Where would I live? Would I be able to live near Matt? What would happen to all my friends? I was attending mock-interview sessions, and even talked to (gasp) someone at the career center once or twice. I was asked at a Walgreen's to contribute to Katrina rescue efforts by adding an extra few dollars onto my purchase. I think I did, but I can't really remember.

I can't believe that I didn't know the reality, the REAL reality of Katrina, until Zeitoun. I think, until this book, I had someone shielded myself from the pain of knowing that people are capable of such horrible cruelty. I shielded myself from the racially charged, uncomfortable media circus surrounding the hurricane. Reading Zeitoun opened my eyes to the reality of what really happened after Katrina, and what that means for America, and our futures. The fact that it's been brushed under the rug as it has is shocking. The neglect, the rage, the de-humanizing, the numbing to the suffering of thousands of people.

Read the book and you'll know what I mean.

The book quotes, I believe, Mark Twain, who says: "To a man with a hammer, everything looks like a nail." I believe this is true - and this is resurfacing now, and could resurface in a very ugly way at any time. Zeitoun was the nail, the scapegoat. What will happen in the next huge disaster? I can't help but wonder who will be the next nail, and who will be the next hammer.

I need to stop reading such heavy books.

Our broken system - and two memoirs to prove it.

Whew!

I haven't posted in a long time - I've been reading up a storm, however. Since I last posted I finished a book called Orange is the New Black, a memoir about a woman's year in prison, and I am now almost finished Zeitoun by Dave Eggers, a harrowing non-fiction account of a family and their hell-ish experience during the aftermath of Hurricaine Katrina.

The books are so different in tersm of writing and perspective - one, written by a upper-class, college educated white girl, experiencing the system and having the luxury of viewing it as almost an observer or voyeur (Kerman can lean back and observe the goings on with a critical, almost journalistic eye, and this is sometimes unsettling - but the real bonds she makes with the other prisoners makes up for this strange perspective); and a Syrian man, innocent just the same, but thrust into the system and being forced to experience all of it in a very real, very deliberate way.

But wow, do they both show the horrors of our nations dark under-belly that is the judicial and prison system. For most of us law-abiding, productive members of society, prison represents order, safety, and peace of mind. I know better, because I have worked in San Quentin and in two juvenile prisons in Michigan - but still, even so, I look at the prison system and somehow, inherently, trust it. After all, there are parts of it that work, and it's pretty much out of sight, out of mind, right??

Both of these accounts show, in a brutal, real, raw way. It's an exposure of a system that generally doesn't work, filled with papers, people, frustration, and debacles like the ones the Zeitouns or Piper Kerman were subjected to are everywhere. It's enough to make me not want to get out of bed each day.

Reading Orange is the New Black, I was brought back to my time in San Quentin. The men that I met there mirrored the women that Kerman showcases in her memoir - their individuality, their humility, their strength. But what the book did that I couldn't do was delve a bit deeper - I only got to see the surface in a few hours, once a week.

More on Zeitoun as soon as I'm done - only a few pages away.

What would you do?

Little Bee is intoxicating. I was reading it today at the Doctor's office, sitting on one of those examining tables with that coarse paper rustling and ripping beneath me.

I was in the process of figuring out what happened to my hip. Which, up until last week when I started Little Bee, was all consuming, all the time. I thought quite constantly about my injury and how to fix it. I thought even more about all the hard work I'd put in only to have to give up the race in the end. I thought about, well, myself.

Something in Little Bee triggered an opposite reaction to what happened to me when reading Hornet's Nest... I started thinking about the world, the giant-ness of it, its corners and crevices, all the fields and water and all the people. I remembered just how much there is, and how much beauty, but also how much sadness.

And I have a question:

I won't spoil the story for you, but let's just stay this - a person is ask, in a very tense and life-threatening way, to do something to save someone else's life. That someone else just happens to be a young Nigerian girl, and that something just happens to be - well, painful. Very painful. I couldn't help but ask myself, almost sub-conciously, whether I would have done it, for a complete stranger, in the moment. Would I, comfortable American girl, do something completely life-altering and dangerous, in order to save the life of a complete stranger? Would you?

Two worlds collide: "Litte Bee" by Chris Cleave

I admit...I bought Little Bee because of the cover.

The beautiful profile silhouette reminded me of an artist, Kara Walker, and her haunting, affecting cut-outs. The show I saw was in LA a few years ago, but deeply affected me. It was the first thing I thought of when I saw the cover of Little Bee.

Walker's cutouts are not for the faint of heart. They highlight and make real the fear and shame and desperation in parts of American history, but they also bring beauty and life to it. As I looked closely at the cutouts, which covered huge walls and were life-size, I felt small in insignificant. I felt a sadness, not just for slavery and it's irreparable consequences, but for every injustice in the world, and for every stark contrast between an "us" and a "them."

So far, Little Bee is much the same. I feel it in the same place. Although it takes place in England (and partly in Nigeria), any person who thinks thoughtfully about the state of our world would be haunted and deeply affected by the juxtaposition of the two worlds the women in the story come from.

I'm still processing what I'm reading - more when I figure out how to put it into words.

Series finale of "Dragon Tattoo" series....peace out, Salander.

I finally finished "Girl Who Kicked the Hornet's Nest." I am thrilled.

Don't get me wrong - I loved the series. I spent many hours of my life devouring those books, and even though they drove me nuts at times, I still enjoyed them. But I am so happy to be done - to wash my hands of them, because I've become a little too Lisbeth Salander-ish lately, and I don't want to make it a habit.

So, the backstory is, I have been training for a marathon - running, working, and keeping up my own personal relationships was a juggling act. But I was handling it, and quite well, I thought. All the while, I was reading these books about the little woman who kicks butt and takes names. I was getting stronger. I felt powerful.

Lisbeth Salander did what she pleased and got away with it. And although she was a victim, she also kicked major ass and eventually beat all of those who threatened her. This summer, as I was training, I felt stronger and more alive, and the more I read about Salander's adventures as this stoic, un-apologetic version of a normal (whatever that means) woman, the more I began to feel like her. I was loving it.

Then, about 6 weeks ago, I got injured in my left hip, probably just from over-using it. Suddenly, I wasn't so strong anymore. This super-human woman that I'd become kinda came crashing down in my mind, and suddenly, I didn't feel like such a bad-ass. Instead, I felt weak. To make myself feel better, I've become rather...disconnected. I've been spending more time alone, and tend to tune out in front of the TV rather than see friends or do something productive.

I started to see in myself another side of Salander. What would Salander do if something she'd been working on, striving for, and believe in suddenly seemed to...disappear? Of course, she'd be completely withdrawn and non-chalant about the whole thing, taking it in stride, gloriously disconnected from her own emotions. A whole world of craziness could be taking place in her pocket, and she'd just flick it away.

I have discovered that this is the part of Salander that makes me cringe. As much as I have talked about admiring her, I realize now, that I ultimately - well, I ultimately don't. Disconnecting from my emotions and disappointment about my injury has only spun me deeper into a blah world of nothing-ness. So not me. I like to feel things, to talk about them, and to air what's happening in my brain, rather than lock it up, and store it, and tighten so that I become an emotion-less robot. I'd rather feel something than nothing.

Tonight I finally talked about how bummed I am about the marathon with Matt, and I feel better now. More...connected. If Lisbeth Salander were actually a real person, I'd wish the same for her too.

Men who hate women...

The original title of Girl with the Dragon Tattoo was, in Swedish, "Men Who Hate Women." Ok, we get it. Every single woman in the book, or at least every single woman that has anything to do with the main story, has major man issues. It's not exactly discreet.

Let me count the ways so far:

- Rape/Incest
- Kidnapping
- Degrading media portrayal
- Misogynistic language
- Human sex trafficking
- Domestic abuse

Good lord.

Aside from the series being about a slight and slightly deranged woman on the war-path to avenge her battered mother, in the process becoming a victim of the system herself, there are other peripheral stories now coming up in the 3rd book that really make me feel like I'm being beat over the head with this depressing theme. For instance, Erika Berger, a prominent but supporting female character in the book, is now receiving messages on her email saying things like "WHORE" (wow), and other misogynistic epithets. I'm not sure what will come of this in the book, but I'm starting to get paranoid in my real life. I find myself staring at random men on the bus, or out my office window, and asking myself, "Does he hate women? Does he?" Because the way that Larsson paints the world, it would seem that every Tom, Dick and Harry wants to kill every female (or at least call her a whore) that he comes into contact with. Or maybe just in Sweden. This makes me never want to go to Sweden as long as I live - maybe the lack of sunlight during the winter months makes people crazy.

I have to wonder what kind of man Steig Larsson really was, and what kind of messed up childhood he went through in order to produce this series. What makes someone write a novel in which every man save one or two has crazy issues with women? Is that how Larsson himself experienced life? Or maybe, the women around him?

Swedes Love Coffee.

Since starting the Dragon Tattoo series, I have become obsessed with all things Swedish. Including, of course, the language (which I heard for the first time after watching the movie version of the first novel, which was disturbing, but of course I knew it would be...). It's quite odd, and sounds something like a German/Norwegian hybrid with lots of "Ya, Ya" going around.

Something quite interesting about Swedish people that I did not know, is that they LOVE their coffee. And sandwiches. And 7 Eleven, apparently. In a quote from a New York Times review of the 3rd novel, with which I am currently engaged: "Larsson’s is a dark, nearly humorless world, where everyone works fervidly into the night and swills tons of coffee; hardly a page goes by without someone “switching on the coffee machine,” ordering “coffee and a sandwich” or responding affirmatively to the offer “Coffee?”

How hilarious. And how true - I feel hyper from osmosis after reading 10 pages. Swedes all over the world must be living with insane ulcers, sleep deprivation, really yellow teeth, and rather smelly breath.

Ok, back to reading.

Fictional Pergatory

So, The Girl Who Stepped on the Hornets Nest (3rd in the Steig Larsson Trilogy) is taking me a long time to read. This is mostly because I am reading in 10 minute chunks before I pass out at night, and then 45 minute chunks twice a week at the gym. I think it's because I am losing some steam with the series. Last night, my fiance, Matt, asked me as I was reading in bed: "I thought you would be sick of those books by now." And I said, "I am, but I still can't stop."

Then I proceeded to read about a girl (Salander, our Unlikely Heroine) who got shot in the head and survived. But not only survived -survived by digging herself out of a shallow, loosely packed grave, with a bullet in her brain, using only a metal cigarette case as a "scoop." Sheesh. It's not even close to believable. There is not an iota of believable in this book so far (by the way, Salander also axed her crazy ex-spy father in the face, but don't worry folks, he's fine). So why am I still reading?

It's one thing to read books about talking trees, Hobbits, and a magical ring that can destroy the world. No one ever thought that book would be realistic. You can tell by the cover. You can tell by the author's name. So when you read about orcs, and elves, you aren't really playing it out in your brain as though it would actually be something that might take place in real life - you are thinking of it like a movie, and your imagination can run wild. It's a totally different type of reading experience.

Steig Larsson, however, promises murder, mystery, intrigue, and reality - and while he does deliver on most of those promises, he also gives us some weird pergatory where we are somewhere between real life and absolute craziness. Is he worried you woulnd't like his book unless something totally ridiculous and outlandish happened? Maybe I would, maybe I wouldn't. For now, I'm still reading.

An Unlikely Heroine: Dragon Tattoo Series

I'm on the third book of The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo Series by Steig Larsson.

Honestly, I can't figure out why I'm so hooked on the series. The writing isn't really that great, the plotline isn't really at all believable, and the message or theme of the book is really pretty obvious. But somehow, I'm on the third novel in the series, and still truckin'.

I had the first book for years - it was given to me as a Christmas gift from Matt's mom, who is a librarian, and interestingly enough, speaks Swedish fluently. It sat, collecting dust, for quite a long time until my book club (yes, I am also in an actual, in the flesh book club) decided to read it. The first 60 or so pages felt like dragging my feet through mud in boots 3 sizes too big - in other words, difficult. After, that I was in deep.

Mostly, the hooking was done by the Femme Fatale of the series, Lisbeth Salander, who is a strange dichotomy of victim and badass. She is a piercing filled, tattooed, combat boot wearing, 5 foot tall tasmanian devil. I find myself both appalled at her bizarre behavior, but also somewhat obsessed with her and wishing I could emulate her. While she is my complete opposite in so many ways, there is also something - drawing about her.

Why is Lisbeth Salander so alluring as to drive me to read THREE books that focus on her crazy escapades (none of which are anything short of a real commitment in terms of reading time)? I think that what makes me love her so much is that she does everything precisely the opposite way that I would do them, and yet, really, what she is doing is what I might do if I had more guts, or more balls, or fewer nagging emotions getting in the way. A man breaks your heart without knowing it? Cut him out of your life completely, without a word. A man brutally sexually assaults you? Don't just tell the authorities and, in effect, ruin his life - ACTUALLY ruin his life with your own two hands. Part of me feels like my life would be smoother, simpler, if everything were so black and white.

Salander's type of justice is so poetic that I'm not sure there is really a place in this world for it - if everyone went around quite so vigilante and emotionless, our world might be cleaner, safer, clearer. In Lisbeth's world, there is no gray area. There is no good-ish bad, or bad-ish good. There is only bad, or good. And sometimes, I think that might be nice.

A Book Club of One

I like to read. I like to read a lot.

Unfortunately, all too often, other activities take precedence over reading - for example, work, exercise, shopping (how much better would my credit card feel if I decided that instead of going on a crusade for the perfect fall boots, I went on a search for the perfect prose paragraph?). Reading at least one book per month was a new years resolution, inspired by my 4-month trip to Southeast Asia during which I read no fewer than 20 books.

In Asia, I read everything I could get my hands on that wasn't by Danielle Steel or in German, Dutch, or Australian, and wasn't a Lonely Planet. Some of the books were shameful and would only qualify as appropriate reading on such a backpacking trip, but I also fit in some real, life-changing gems: "Middlsex", "The Road", and "The Good Earth", to name a few. Reading became an obsession. As soon as Matt and I touched back down stateside at the end of our trip, reading once again took a backseat to the onslaught of other activities that were all of the sudden possible, such as eating fresh vegetables and drinking tap water.

8 months later, I am rekindling my love affair with books, and I am sharing my thoughts about them with the world, or anyone who cares to read them. I think it's safe to argue that the best part about books is that you can find yourself in them somewhere - that somehow, they hold common experiences and emotions, no matter how disparate the plot seems to be from your own life. Have I lived through a veritable apocalypse, only to be chased by stark-raving mad, gas-mask-wearing, gun-toting, blood-thirsty lunatics? No. Can I identify with the feeling of isolation, desolation, and desperate emotions of the protagonist and his young son? Yes. I have been there. I would venture to say that most of us have been there. I see, on a daily basis from my office window in San Francisco's Bayview neighborhood, many a man who probably feels those emotions, if he is not yet numb to them, every single moment of every single day.

And so, that is the amazing thing about books - and that is what I hope to chronicle on this blog. I hope this inspires you to read, and read, and think, and love, and learn. Feel free to comment - a Book Club of One could easily become a Book Club of Many!