Category Archives: Books & Reading

You know those stories you (probably) read in your English 101 class? The ones that you still remember the experience of reading for the first time, decades later?

Willful Creatures by Aimee Bender is that experience, on repeat. The Los Angeles Times called the anthology, “Hemingway on an acid trip; her choices are twisted, both ethereal and surprisingly weighty … Terrifyingly lovely.”

“Twisted,” “ethereal,” and “weighty” are all superb descriptors for these stories. I do disagree with “Hemingway on an acid trip,” not because of the Hemingway comparison — which I find mostly apt; Bender uses long, winding sentences that don’t end up where one might expect — but because of the acid trip. That, to me, implies a lack of control, and Bender’s prose is anything but. It’s sharp and witty, well-crafted, well-paced, and intentional. Her stories operate on her own internal logic. Now, the reader may feel like they are on an acid trip: the zany, kaleidoscopic stories are both vivid and vague, like a particularly striking dream that leaves one discombobulated upon waking, but fades to half-remembered images and emotions ten minutes after.

I first read this book in my very first semester as a college freshman, over a decade ago. I was gobsmacked. Awestruck. I didn’t realize that people could write like that. I have not read the collection in its entirety since then, and so I was eager to find out what I thought now. There are only one or two stories that I find to be weaker — “Jinx” and “I Will Pick Out Your Ribs (from My Teeth)” — but the rest are solid, achieving a response that I only experience when reading a particularly fantastic poem.

My favorite stories from this collection are mostly in Part Three: “Dearth,” the tale of a woman who finds her cast-iron pot filled with potatoes, which return every day after she gets rid of them, and which slowly grow potato arms and legs and heads like children, increasing her desperation to rid herself of them (yes, she does eat one). “Job’s Jobs” is the story of God’s vendetta against a writer, and how the writer wins. “The Leading Man” is about a boy who is born with nine keys instead of fingers (his pinkie being the only exception), and who goes through his life seeking the matching locks. “Hymn,” the final story, is one of my all-time favorite short stories and is about a series of strange births. It ends with the lines: “my genes, my love, are rubber bands and rope; build yourself a structure you can live inside. Amen.” and it makes me cry every time. In fact, as I re-read this collection for the first time in years, I was struck by how many of the stories’ final lines were an emotional gut-punch. It’s like coming out from under hypnosis and then being informed that your dog was just hit by a car.

These stories must be approached with an open-mind. You cannot resist their strangeness, even when it disgusts you, otherwise you will miss something. There may be the instinct to retreat, to write the surreal tales off as nonsense (or an acid trip), but that, in my opinion, trivializes what Bender might be trying to do. I use the word “might,” because I still don’t understand some of them, even the ones that have stuck fast in my mind (“End of the Line,” the story about a very tiny man who is abducted and abused by a regular-sized man). But I think Bender is saying something about the inanity of life while simultaneously wrestling with — or arguing for? — the meaning of life. There’s an undercurrent of grief running through every story — I can see the shape of that, more clearly, now that I am older (wiser? sadder.).

If you like Willful Creatures, you will probably enjoy Bender’s full-length novel, The Particular Sadness of Lemon Cake. Somehow, Bender is able to maintain what she does in a 7-20 page short story through almost 300 pages. She has the range, darling.

Bender, Aimee. Willful Creatures: Stories. Anchor Books, 2005.

Last night I went to a Community Building workshop on affordable housing here in Lincoln. To be clear, I personally have affordable, well-maintained housing. My landlord is cool. He fixes stuff. But apparently that’s not so true in the Near South Neighborhood. Probably other neighborhoods too.

I heard about code violations, landlord retaliation, rising housing costs, and mold aplenty. So very much mold. Everyone in that room knew about the problem, but was looking for a solution. That’s where Thinking in Systems by Donella Meadows comes into play.

That was the first comprehensive book I read about systems thinking. In a nutshell it says what we all know to be true: one things affects another, which affects another in a big, messy cycle. In this case, housing structures are designed and built decades ago. Funding is raised for building and construction, but all houses need repair eventually. The landlords who own the units do not always have funding for costly repairs, like extensive mold damage or updated plumbing. Some just plain don’t seem to care. I could go on. It’s just turtles all the way down.

Thinking in Systems talks about how to bring some order to the chaos. I read this book many moons ago, but it was one of the things that inspired me to make this Affordable Housing Map that shows what it takes to tackle the problem statewide. View it on a desktop. Maybe a tablet. It’s too big to see on a smartphone.

The map is one way to visualize a system, but that gets paired with root cause analysis to dig deep and make sure efforts are addressing the right problem. Finding new and different ways to bring people together to share ideas, innovate and collaborate are good tools too , among others.

All in all, it turns out I like to think in systems. Who knew? I’m a systems nerd! Give this book a read if you want to find out what it takes to solve the big, messy problems of the world.

Many readers will recognize Ali Velshi, author of Small Acts of Courage, as a journalist who’s worked for CNN, Al Jazeera America, and MSNBC. Small Acts of Courage is not a typical celebrity memoir, however. Instead, it is a family story dating back to the late 19th century. It starts in Gujarat, India, with Velshi’s great-great-grandfather, and follows subsequent generations as they relocate to South Africa, Kenya, Canada, and finally, in Velshi’s case, the United States.

One thing I appreciated about this book was the historical perspective it provided. It answered questions about the Indian diaspora, especially as it exists in South Africa and Canada, and also connected some dots about the impact of the British Empire and colonialism on migration. The biggest takeaway, however, relates to the lessons Velshi learned from his family about the importance of civic engagement and pluralism in a healthy democracy.

Having grown up in South Africa under apartheid, Velshi’s parents knew the destructive power of racial segregation, as well as the impotence of having no political voice. So when they moved to Canada in the early 1970s, at a time the country was not only actively welcoming immigrants but had also adopted an official policy of multiculturalism, they were all in. They became politically active, served on boards and committees, and dedicated themselves to building and participating in a civil society. Velshi’s father even ran for political office in 1981, not because he had a chance to win, but because at that time virtually no immigrants did so; he felt someone needed to show the immigrant community they could: “There was a point to be made, that you could run for office here without landing in jail or being shot by somebody, and it had to be done if for no other reason than to prove that it could be done” (188-189).

Although Velshi writes about earlier generations of his family rubbing shoulders with Gandhi in South Africa—Velshi’s great-grandfather was Gandhi’s contemporary and friend and his grandfather was Gandhi’s youngest student at Tolstoy Farm ashram–this book isn’t about the impact big-name historical influencers have on society. It barely even touches on Velshi’s life as a jet-setting journalist. Instead, it’s a celebration of and an argument for the contributions of everyday people who serve society by serving others. People like his sister, a civil servant in Toronto who performs “the grueling, thankless grunt work of citizenship” (237). And his parents, whose Canadian citizenship “was something they created, something they built themselves out of the raw materials and opportunities [they had] access to” (266.) I’d say the main takeaway from Velshi’s book is that citizenship is “a muscle that atrophies if you don’t use it . . . “ (266). If this is a message that resonates with you, be sure to check out Small Acts of Courage.

Velshi, Ali. Small Acts of Courage: A Legacy of Endurance and the Fight for Democracy. St. Martin’s Press, 2024.