The Audacity of Hope by Barack Obama (abridged audio, read by the author)

There is no doubt about it: Barack Obama is an incredibly likeable man. His down-to-earth attitude, his (apparent) honesty, and his hope for the potential in all of us make me proud that he’s the face of America today. I loved to listen to The Audacity of Hope, which he wrote five years ago as junior Illinois Senator. I was delighted every time I remembered that he’s now the President, and able to see some of his hopes come to light.

I only wished, as I listened, that there was more of it. Only when I was nearly finished listening did I realize it was an abridgement of a longer book. (I hate it when that happens.) Still, there was something doubly wonderful about listening to President Obama narrating himself his hopes for the future of America. I’m not sure I would have loved it as much if I’d read it. Continue reading »

Père Goriot by Honoré de Balzac

I believe it is possible to be very glad I read a book and yet still not really like it. I read not just for entertainment but for broader perspective.

Reading Balzac certainly gave me a different perspective. In a sense, it’s kind of a mix between Dumas (humorous exaggeration) and Zola (heart-breaking realism). Honoré de Balzac, who wrote Père Goriot in the 1830s, is named the “father of realism” and this book seems an apt precursor to Zola’s sagas (one of which I read earlier this year). Continue reading »

The Home-maker by Dorothy Canfield

Although I have a different review waiting in the wings, yesterday afternoon I finished my next Persephone book, and I can’t help posting this review now because the ideas are so fresh and I just loved it.

Besides being an interesting look at 1920s gender roles in raising a family, The Home-maker by Dorothy Canfield was, to me, a reminder at what it means to “make a home,” particularly by making it in to a pleasant place. l loved the reminder that being a stay-at-home parent is not about nagging my child and scrubbing the floor but rather watching him learn and grow. It was so beautiful.

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The Makioka Sisters by Junichiro Tanizaki

Beginning with powdering a sweaty back and ending, quite literally, with diarrhea, The Makioka Sisters by Junichiro Tanizaki captures the intimate everyday moments of a once-powerful family in a rapidly changing 1930s and ’40s Japan.

It was not an enjoyable read for me. Coming from both a Western perspective and a modern one, I found just about all the aspects of the dying Japanese upper-class culture to be dreadful. The attempts at an arranged marriage for the aging third daughter, the repression of the modern and talented fourth daughter, and the family and social politics (that is, trying to keep up appearances as a successful and happy family) all seemed pointless.

Yet, Tanizaki captured the family so exactly that I could not help believing that such a family did exist. I better understand the era of Japanese history and the pain that came from rapidly modernizing centuries-old traditions. Continue reading »

The Enchanted April by Elizabeth Von Arnim

In The Enchanted April by Elizabeth Von Arnim, an exotic Italian villa becomes a retreat for four lonely London 1920s women in four different stages of life. By allowing herself a vacation, each woman “finds” herself as she needed to do, and the significance of friendship and love in their lives solidifies. It’s a reminder that we each need time for ourselves.

It’s an  interesting classic from an historical view point, and the universality of women’s needs speaks to me as a modern stay-at-home wife and mother. Although some of the details aren’t the same anymore, the sentiments in Von Arnim’s forgotten classic haven’t changed much over the years. This is a great book for any person in need of a vacation to recharge, and it’s one I’ll be suggesting to my book club of busy women.

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King Lear by William Shakespeare

Cordelia's Farewell by Edwin Austin Abbey (via Wikipedia Public Domain)

Shakespeare’s King Lear captures family relationships (father to daughter, father to son, brother to brother, sister to sister) in an undeniable tragedy. Lear is betrayed by his two eldest daughters and Gloucester is betrayed by his eldest (and illegitimate) son. But although there is broken trust and mourning, there are also tender expressions of true love from children to their parents. Cordelia and her father and Gloucester and Edgar give the play a gentleness that I did not at all expect in a high dramatic tragedy highly reminiscent of the Ancient Greek tragedies.

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To the Lighthouse by Virginia Woolf

Although To the Lighthouse is told in a similar stream-of-consciousness manner as was Mrs. Dalloway (reviewed two weeks ago), it struck me as different, and I’m not sure why. Was there more plot? Maybe. Was it the setting (the Hebrides versus London)? Maybe. I do know that as I read, I was less emotionally drawn in to the characters, and I found myself disliking all of them (yes, all of them). As I read the thoughts of each character, I found it to be incredibly realistic. I was in awe, once again of Woolf’s ability to capture the mental process of such a variety of fictional people. The fact that I didn’t like any of the people once I could listen in on their thoughts was telling: I suspect most of us wouldn’t get along very well if we could read each others’ thoughts!

Although I’m glad I read To the Lighthouse, I can’t say I’ll ever revisit it. I am looking forward to reading others’ posts today, though, because as with the other Woolf novel I read, I think I missed a lot! This post is a rambling collection of my thoughts about the book, and if you’ve also read the novel, I’d love to hear your thoughts too. What did I miss?

Because I read this book as a part of the Woolf in Winter read-along (hosted at Emily’s blog today), this post and the comments may include spoilers as a part of the discussion of the book. Continue reading »

The Creative Family by Amanda Blake Soule

I do not feel like I am a creative person, at least when it comes to creating “something” from bare materials. Although as a teenager I learned how to embroider and I even had been known to sew myself a skirt, today I find myself impatient with the slow pace of those tasks. I took a pottery class and a drawing class at some point during high school, but those two artistic talents also try my patience so much that the pitiful end result is rather discouraging. Further, I have horrible handwriting, so my posters and cards are normally made from prints-outs from the computer. When I moved to Australia, I gave up on scrapbooking because Internet albums are much prettier and I’m online a lot so I can see them anytime.

Let’s face it: I’m a blogger and want-to-be photographer who rarely takes photographs (but I like tweaking them in Photoshop: instant results). I like to use computers creatively, but I do not create things completely from scratch.  I know that practice makes perfect. But I don’t have patience to practice.

And yet, I have a two-year-old. He loves to “help” me cook, so I’ve turned to Play-Doh during those times when he’s really just in the way. Then I wanted him to make his grandparents a Christmas present, so we’ve been playing with markers and wooden ornaments for weeks. And he loves it.

So, thanks to my son’s budding creativity, I decided to pick up The Creative Family: How to Encourage Imagination and Nurture Family Connections by Amanda Blake Soule, which Lisa and Eva reviewed recently. In some respects, I found Soule’s book to be a life-shifting book for me as a mother.

No, I’m not suddenly going to be become a proponent of “unschooling” as Soule is. Soule’s philosophies are a bit extreme for me. But Soule’s book was, for me, a creative recharge that I needed. She shares my opinion that kids don’t need big plastic toys with batteries to have a happy Christmas childhood. She helped me see what I could do with my son instead. Continue reading »

A Stop in South Africa (Two Novels by Alan Paton) + Giveaway

In November, I reread Cry, the Beloved Country for my book club and then, because I loved that book so much, I read Too Late the Phalarope, also by Alan Paton.

Although I am glad I had a second experience with Paton’s South Africa, I still much preferred the first novel. I’d be happy to send you my lightly used copy of Too Late the Phalarope. See below for giveaway information. Continue reading »

The Catcher in the Rye by J.D. Salinger

As I mentioned in my previous post, I loved Holden Caulfield when I first read The Catcher in the Rye by J.D. Salinger. I was probably about 16 years old, which is Holden’s age. I read it again in college (20 years old) and I likewise enjoyed Holden’s story.

I didn’t love Holden on this third reading (age 28). In fact, as I read the first sentence, I groaned. Would I have to put up with this kid’s whining for another 214 pages? But in the end, I couldn’t hate Holden Caulfield, even after 215 pages of whining and complaining. His compassion redeemed him for me, and I’m so grateful I reread his story so I could experience it again from this perspective.

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