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.