7 posts tagged “reading”

For this month's non-fiction selection, I chose to delve into a standing mystery in Catholic culture.  While quite meaty and intensely well researched, this book also stretches slightly into the memoir category as Peter Sanford intersperses his actual adventures (and misadventures) in uncovering more clues surrounding this elusive figure.

Legend has it that centuries ago (Sanford pinpoints it around the 9th century), a woman achieved the unachievable by disguising herself as a man and winning over clerics and Catholic thinkers.  She became Pope John VIII.  Her secret was only revealed once she gave birth to a child on a procession in a narrow steep alley in Rome. 

Sanford takes us from his accidental discovery of the legend during a lazy vacation overlooking Joan's alley, the "Vicus Papissa", through a fascinating investigation in various Church libraries, cities across Europe and various historic sites. 

He explores the historical, philosophical and even psychological aspects of Pope Joan, thoughtfully turning each angle to the light, making her both credible historically and relevant to modern readers.  I must say that his research is extensive which at times feels like a laundry list of source snippets, but Sanford weaves these in with his own personal journey, creating a tale that is both educational and amusing.  This journey is, in itself, as interesting as the potential truth he searches for along the way. 

Scott Spencer does, as The Wall Street Journal put it, have a way with language.  His writing style is a unique take on the stream of consciousness ramblings of a conflicted young man trying to find himself in a modern world where everything has become a commodity.  At times, the way he writes conversation is distracting and annoying, while at other times, it creates a much clearer picture of the way his characters are really interacting.  At times, his lead character, Avery, is an interesting observant and introspective young man and at others, he is a whiny spineless depressive who really doesn't have much by way of redeeming qualities.  In fact, his chief redeeming quality, as he vindictively pushes his cheating girlfriend away and runs off on an exorbitantly-priced sex tour in Northern Europe, is the way he watches others, acutely aware of energy and emotion in a room, while basically wallowing in his own inability to process and progress through his own energies and emotions. 

Beyond the surface of a quarter-to-mid-life crisis (is there a third-life crisis?) coming-to-terms tale, there is enough in this novel to warrant a revisiting, or at the very least, a good analysis.  Spencer uses Avery's attention to detail to highlight sounds and colors and tensions that surely have more significance than being simply repetitive and ambient.  He tends to overdescribe his scenes and occasionally Avery narrates us for pages on small details or seemingly irrelevant memories.  In fact, in one conversation with another man on the tour, Spencer gives a flash of awareness as he cuts his own rambling short by briefly summarizing the drone of Avery's companion.  Spencer's novel is thoughtful, and his choices meaningful.  Though it has its flaws, the story pulls you through and though a bit monotonous (to force his reader to relate to Avery's general sense of ennui?), in the end, the heavy-handed philosophy about life is a positive development, leaving an overall enjoyable reading experience and some good food-for-thought about relationships, commodities, morals, and, as trite as it may be, the meaning of an individual life in the big world.

Many judgments are made about the sex tour's participants - mainly the men and women, and rarely the owners, operators or even the shadowy "contacts" which turn out to be little more than pimps with higher paid prostitutes than the American hookers that are left behind by the men on the Fleming tour.  Spencer appears to carefully leave any final decisions up to the reader, even as his protagonist seems to come to his own conclusion.  This ambiguity gives the reader a wonderful experience of the equivocation, even if one's own opinions are pre-determined, that dances through both Avery and many of his compadres.  Some men are sure of their right to purchase attention, affection and physical interaction.  Some men feel the price they have paid gives them a right to something better than even they are being given.  The women seem to be of a more similar mind - there is a resounding notion across the board that each woman is a salesperson, that sex and feigned affection is a business, even if some women are more carefree about the business than others. 

It is this dichotomy, however - female nonchalance versus male ambivalence - that is either (again, the ambiguity) thought provoking, or a bit juvenile.  Only one female character, one whom I dare not mention lest I spoil the plot, expresses any truly apposite stance on the entire tour.  I want to believe that Spencer wanted to be thought provoking.  I'm not sure that it is fully carried off, but perhaps a shadow of intent is there.  Everything wraps up too neatly at the end with a nod towards the bigger picture for it to really achieve a serious level.  With that dash, then, of juvenility, Spencer allies himself with his protagonist, as a man with a lot to think about, still a bit to learn, and a keen sense of observation to pull him through to his ultimate destination.

It wasn't terrible.  It just wasn't my kind of book.  I don't like chick lit.  I don't like self-conscious books about imperfect women with insecurity issues.  Not that the heroine has to have an incredible sense of self worth and self esteem, but I am so sick of reading books about women feeling sorry for themselves and being weak and never really getting anywhere.  I thought that at the end of Good in Bed, Cannie Shapiro had maybe grown or learned something or found some modicum of happiness.  But she is just as insecure and still is devoid of any self-awareness focused anywhere but her thighs.  It did make me tear up at its emotional climax.  I did get involved with the characters and after I forced my way through 75 self-pitying pages, I did stop wanting to put it down forever.  So, as I said, not terrible.  But I do think that readers, even us beach blanket readers, deserve better.

The Seamstress is, at its core, a tale of two sisters from a small country town in inland Brazil in the late 1920s and early 1930s.  Each sister escapes the small town to follow her own path, and the story follows each over the course of a troubled, monumental time in Brazil's history.  In general, this novel is beautifully written, incredibly detailed and extremely interesting.  It, however, is chiefly concerned with the political and social complexities of the time, rather than the interactions between its characters.  The intricacies of Recife society and the backland bandits, the cangacieros, are well drawn.  As the sisters create their new lives, they each struggle with their positions, as defined by their gender, class, and social status.  Each must realize who can be trusted, what rules can be broken, and the power gained and lost in breaking those rules.

The parallels in each sister's struggle are found naturally and do not feel forced.  The details about the time and places are engaging without being overwhelming.  De Pontes Peebles draws the stories along, bubbling for a crescendo that, despite the well-crafted story lines, never quite comes along.  There is much drama and action, but the book does not seem to reach a traditional climax.  The ending is satisfying and does give the reader some insight into the future of the characters, but it happens all of a sudden, as if the author realized that the book was well over 600 pages and just couldn't go on for another 600.  All this considered, this book is an enjoyable read with much to reveal about a fascinating point in history.

Like his previous novel, Little Children, a novel not really about actual children at all, Tom Perrotta's The Abstinence Teacher turns out to not really be about an actual teacher of abstinence.  Ruth Ramsey, one of the two chief protagonists, does, in fact, teach sex education.  We find her in the year after a scandal which the school remedies by implementing an abstinence program in place of Ruth's sex education curriculum.  Tim Mason, the other lonely soul wandering through this novel, is a born-again Christian, part of a new church which is largely responsible for the changes at Ruth's school.

Though the children are being taught to abstain, and Ruth laments finding herself in the position of an abstinence teacther, the real abstinence in question is being practiced by Ruth and Tim.  Ruth, as we are reminded ad nauseam, is a forty-plus divorcee who hasn't had sex in two years.  Tim is a recovering addict who found his way out of a serious drug and alcohol addiction through Jesus.  These are the defining aspects of these characters, driving all of their decisions and interactions, and it is their abstinence, or the examination of their life in abstention, that teaches Ruth and Tim their most important lessons. 

The Abstinence Teacher initially sets up a potential conflict between Ruth's sex education class and her belief system against the born-again church values and Tim's imposition of his religion on the youth soccer team he coaches (Ruth's daughter, Maggie, is one of his best players).  This, however, is shadow play, yet again.  The soccer team and the religious conflict bring these two characters together and loosely carry the story along, but there is no real conflict in this novel.  Instead, Perrotta presents an interesting and heartfelt character study, a study of abstinence in a multitude of meanings, and through that examination, we also find indulgence to be as complex. 

The lack of a true driving conflict gives this novel the feeling of a meandering journey through the lives of two suburban parents, each sorting through a different set of baggage.  Once a reader stops looking for a more classic beefed up plot, The Abstinence Teacher is a pleasant, thought provoking read which keeps you largely in suspense as to its predictable foregone conclusion.  This novel is not brilliant, but only because it is not heavy handed and the shadows are light and approachable.  It is engaging and accessible, and though Ruth and Tim have very specific challenges to face and process, they too are light and approachable, which makes sharing their journey worthwhile.